Dark Mafia Vows (Mafia Vows #1)

1. Ginevra

1

GINEVRA

M y knuckles are white as I grip my steering wheel firmly, trying to navigate the congested streets at 8:30 in the evening. The roads are packed with cars, their honking horns drowning out the music blaring from my car’s Bluetooth speaker.

As I sing along to the lyrics of Pharrell Williams’ “Happy,” my stomach twists with nerves, trying to distract myself from the impending breakdown that’s bound to occur any minute from now.

I hate being late. I hate being stuck in traffic, and most importantly, I hate it when my brother is pissed at me.

As if on cue, my music pauses abruptly, overridden by the shrill sound of my ringtone.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath as Lorenzo’s name flashes on my phone screen.

I place a hand over my racing heart and clear my throat, forcing a strained smile as I answer the call. “Hey, big brother?—”

“You’re this close to getting a security detail and a nanny, Ginny,” Lorenzo’s impatient voice booms through the speakers. “Where are you? The event started already!”

My smile wavers, and I let out a sigh. It’s not the first time he’s made this threat. We both know assigning a security detail would be pointless. I’ve managed to evade every bodyguard and infuriate every nanny since day one, much to Lorenzo’s consternation.

“I know, I know! I’m on my way,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, but my frustration bubbles beneath the surface. “I’ve been stuck in traffic for almost thirty minutes now.”

His exasperated sigh fills the car’s interior. “You wouldn’t have been stuck if you’d left the house earlier. Or, hell, if you’d let your fiancé pick you up.”

I roll my eyes as he continues. “Rinaldo is already here, and he’s getting pissed. He wanted to introduce you to some important people.”

“I got held up discussing ideas for the bakery. You know how it is.”

“Discussing ideas?” he scoffs. “What the hell, Ginny?”

I steal a glance at the dashboard and huff. “Relax, I’m right on time. The party doesn’t really even start until eight.”

“Ginny, the event started thirty minutes ago,” he informs me. “I must’ve told you the time a hundred times, but then again, you’ve always had selective hearing.”

I groan. “It’s not my fault today.”

“Hmm,” Lorenzo hums sarcastically. “Where and when have I heard that before? Oh yeah— from you, every other day.”

His tone makes me bristle. Lorenzo has never fancied the idea of me starting a business of my own. He’s always taken pride in taking care of me, and now that the family business is facing challenges, he’s more determined than ever to keep me under his wing.

Rinaldo Sanchez, my fiancé, hails from a family of affluent politicians and is one of Lorenzo’s business associates. According to my brother’s grand plan, Rinaldo is supposed to ensure I’m well taken care of.

So, the idea of me starting my own bakery? It drives him up the wall.

“I’ve been out with the people who can help me.” I try to make my tone light. “Small business owners, locals, exactly the kind of people who know what works. You know that.”

“Is this really necessary, Ginny? You could just focus on socializing with Rinaldo, keeping up appearances for the company, and maybe your upcoming marriage,” he huffs, and I roll my eyes again. “Why do you even need this bakery?”

I can almost hear him pacing on the other end, his overprotectiveness almost suffocating. I don’t take offense, though. It comes from a good place. We’ve been on our own for so long, separated from the rest of our extended family, that we’re all we have for each other. I’m just as protective of Lorenzo as he is of me.

Okay, maybe not as much. My brother can be a bit overbearing, but I still love him.

Lorenzo loves me too, that much I know. He’s the best big brother anyone could ever ask for, and if there’s a next life, I’d definitely want him right back in his role as protector, pseudo parent, and sibling. He’s been my only family since our parents died, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything.

If only he didn’t still see me as that five-year-old with missing teeth, pigtails, and a jean romper. It’s frustrating how he treats me like I’m made of glass, something fragile that needs to be handled with care.

I can’t even tell the most important person in my life about my passion because he thinks I don’t need to make money, that I should be devoting my time to broadening my social circle and prepping to begin my role as a trophy wife.

“It’s a passion project, Enzo.” I feign a chuckle, trying to lighten up his mood. “And how many times do I have to tell you I’m doing this for myself?”

“Passion project or not, you’re late. You need to prioritize family over... whatever this is.”

“I promise I’ll be there in no time. Just give me a moment,” I tell him. “The traffic is clearing up.”

I hear his heavy exhale before the goes dead.

“Rude,” I scoff, pressing the gas pedal as my car inches forward.

The song resumes right where it left off, and I hum along, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a bit. I’m finally ready to launch my bakery, and I won’t let anyone—not Lorenzo, and certainly not Rinaldo—make me feel guilty about it.

I merge onto the main road, the city’s tall buildings rising against the night sky, their glass shining with the city lights. Each one feels alive, showing the energy of the city, and for the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m in sync with it.

As I drive farther, the street opens up with fancy shops and nice cafes, their glowing signs lighting up the evening. I glance at the time again, and...shit, I’m running late. I hope I can still make a grand entrance with Rinaldo if I hurry. Otherwise, he’ll be pissed, too. Not that I care all that much, but having a grumpy fiancée by my side all night will definitely be my thirteenth reason.

Finally, I arrive at the luxurious hotel, its bright entrance looking inviting. The valet area is busy, and I decide not to use it. I don’t want to hand over my keys in this casual outfit.

My faded blue jeans and a simple white top feel utterly inappropriate for the fancy party and the high-profile guests inside. I can already picture the glances I’ll receive from the socialites if I’m caught wearing this, or worse, if any photographers or paparazzi take pictures and they end up online.

Lorenzo would be livid for sure. Rinaldo, too. I can just imagine the scandalous headlines. I shudder slightly at the thought. The last thing I want is to attract any more negative publicity to me or my brother. The best plan is to drive inside myself and change into the clothes currently sitting in the backseat of my car.

The cool air greets me as I pull into the underground parking garage. White lights flick overhead, illuminating the sea of already parked flashy cars. The concrete walls are designed with sleek artwork, and the lighting is soft, creating an inviting atmosphere. I quickly scan the space, relief washing over me when I spot an empty space near the back.

The overhead lights cast a soft glow on the polished concrete floor as I maneuver my car. I signal and steer into the spot, my eyes again glancing at the time. I exhale in relief when I realize I may not be as late as I thought.

Just as I’m about to put the car in park, a sleek, tinted sedan suddenly swerves into my lane and cuts me off. My heart races as I slam on the brakes, the tires screeching loudly against the pavement. I grip the steering wheel tighter, irritation bubbling up inside me.

“What the hell?” I hiss as my car comes to a stop.

Seriously? Who does that?

I take a moment to steady my breath, frustration coursing through me like hot embers. After everything I’ve gone through today, this is the last thing I need.

I throw the car into park and fling open the door, my heels clicking sharply against the concrete as I step out. The air is sharp and cool, and adrenaline courses through my veins.

The driver of the tinted car remains inside, seemingly unfazed as he scrolls through his phone, my presence not appearing to matter. My annoyance is growing.

“Excuse me!” I call out, raising my voice to cut through the low hum in the garage. “Do you mind? You just stole my spot!”

Silence. The driver doesn’t even glance my way. My frustration intensifies, and I take a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest. “Hey! I’m talking to you,” I shout, my hands on my hips, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

When he doesn’t budge, I go red in anger. I raise my hand and bang the inside of my fist against his window.

That’s when the driver opens the door.

“How dare you?—”

My words are cut off when the culprit emerges from the car. A man steps out, tall and imposing. The familiar sharp features—high cheekbones and a strong jawline—are striking.

A deep scowl etches his handsome face, the same face gracing covers of various business magazines and news articles, giving him an air of arrogance. Dark hair frames his piercing green eyes, which seem to hold an intensity that commands attention. Dressed in a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, he exudes a stinking level of wealth.

Dario De Luca.

The name hits me like a punch to the gut, bringing back a flood of memories I’d rather forget. Me, a little girl with a silly crush, and he, my brother’s former best friend, who only saw me as that and nothing more. Over the years, he has turned into the man about whom I’ve only heard bad things. His reputation precedes him like a storm cloud.

What is he even doing at an event like this? Last time I checked, he never socializes or attends parties like this. Lorenzo claims he sees everyone as beneath him, and now, judging from the way he’s looking at me, my brother’s right.

“Yes?” His tone is dismissive, as if I’m nothing more than an annoyance.

And that’s when I realize that he doesn’t even recognize me. I can’t help but feel a mix of anger, embarrassment, and disbelief.

“Are you serious?” I reply, incredulous. “You just cut in front of me and act as if it’s no big deal? I could’ve hit your car if I hadn’t seen you in time.”

He shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “If you’d been paying attention, this wouldn’t have been a problem.”

I recall some of the things I’ve heard about him—cold, arrogant, condescending. And now, he stands before me with that smirk, proving the rumors were indeed true.

My blood boils at his words. “What?” I choke. “Are you seriously suggesting this is my fault? You’re the one who?—”

“It is your fault.” He cuts me off sharply. “I don’t insinuate.”

I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself down.

“I can see that acting like an arrogant jerk comes naturally to you,” I shoot back. Calm down, my ass. I’m fucking pissed.

His eyebrows raise slightly, and so does my voice. “You think you can just do whatever you want. Who the hell do you think you are?”

His green eyes harden, and I spot a hint of anger in them.

“Look,” he bites out, his eyes sweeping over me dismissively. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. Doesn’t the staff have a different entrance?”

His voice drips with condescension, and my eyes twitch at the insult. I stand there seething, my fists clenching at my sides.

“Staff?” I splutter, staring down at my body, wincing. “I’m not the staff, I’m?—”

“When I care, I’ll let you know.”

He turns away from me and heads to the elevator as if I’m not even worth his time. I can’t believe he has the audacity to treat me like this. “You’re not used to being called out, so you’re walking away like the coward you are,” I call after him, my voice louder and sharper than I intended.

He doesn’t respond. The nerve of him!

The last time I saw Dario, he was with my brother, his aloofness and cold demeanor always getting under my skin. Memories of his dismissive remarks flood back, and I realize just how much I loathe him, especially since he doesn’t even remember me.

Before I can even think it through, I find myself walking toward him, determined to catch up before he reaches the elevator.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” I call out, grabbing him by the arm to halt his movement.

He freezes, his gaze dropping to my fingers wrapped around his arm, his face twisting in disgust, as though I’ve just hurled a pile of excrement at him.

“Get your hands off me.” His voice is cold and forbidding. If I had any brain cells in my head, I’d pretend this was an accident, laugh it off, and hurry away. But I didn’t get where I am by running.

“So you’re not going to apologize?” I snarl.

My heart pounds against my chest, each beat resonating like a warning bell, urging me to stop. But I ignore it.

“Apologize for what, exactly?” His tone is casual, almost bored.

I raise an eyebrow, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm, let’s see. For starters, how about what I just told you? You clearly saw me going for that spot, and now you’re playing dumb as if it never happened.”

What are you doing? My inner voice screams at me, but it’s too late to back down now.

On a list of stupid things to do, confronting Dario De Luca—the man who was once my childhood hero but is now a name synonymous with danger—tops them all.

Dario’s eyes narrow and if possible, they get colder. I can’t help the shiver that courses down my body, and I resist the urge to take a step backward. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of showing him I’m scared of him or that he intimidates me.

“You have no idea who I am, do you, or you wouldn’t make the idiotic mistake of laying your hands on me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with disdain.

“I’m not by any means a professor of English, but I don’t think that combination of words meant I’m sorry , so let’s try again, shall we?” I retort with a bright, mocking smile. His jaw ticks in response.

I’ve seen countless photos of Dario online and in the newspapers our butler likes to read, but seeing him in person, tight-jawed, eyes narrowed, makes me pity the poor cameras that struggle to capture his true essence.

Dario is a stunning man. Even as a teenager roaming the halls of our house, he was an angel to my too-young eyes. How wrong I was. From what I’ve heard, beneath that perfectly sculpted face and full, red mouth, Dario is nothing but pure evil.

“You can’t just treat people anyhow you want and think you can get away with it.” I throw my hands into the air, releasing him. “That’s an asshole move.”

“And you assume I have a problem with being the asshole?” His brow arches in a way that’s far too sexy for my liking. Everything about him is sexy, from the way his navy three-piece suit molds to his impressive physique to the way his dark hair falls over his forehead in messy waves.

His face remains impassive, and I wonder for the millionth time what happened to Dario that changed him so much. I don’t remember a lot about him, but what I can remember is the dimple that used to peek out when he occasionally smiled. Now, he looks as if he hasn’t smiled in years.

Suddenly, he reaches inside his suit jacket. I let out a startled sound and jump back, half-expecting him to pull out a gun and shoot me for bothering him. Instead, he withdraws a wad of cash and holds it up.

“You can have all of it if you get out of my way and forget this conversation ever happened.”

I glance down at the money and then force a stiff smile. “You couldn’t buy me if you tried.”

“I’m not trying to buy you,” he replies coolly. “I’m trying to get you out of my face.”

I grit my teeth. “I wouldn’t even be here, if you’d just say you’re sorry, which, by the way, is the right thing to do. No. It’s the least thing you can do, and?—”

“You seem to enjoy the sound of your own voice far too much,” he says, cocking his head. “But I don’t. You’re clearly a child, and I’ve had enough of you wasting my time,” he bites out, tossing the wad of cash at me.

I flinch as it flies toward my face, and by the time I remember to catch it, it’s too late. The money scatters across the floor between us.

I look up from the notes strewn about the floor, a scathing comment on the tip of my tongue, only to see that Dario is already across the garage. I watch helplessly, seething with indignation, as the elevator doors slide closed, sealing him out of view.

I stand there, fists clenched, staring at his car. For a fleeting moment, I consider doing something crazy like denting it, but I decide against it. I’m not that suicidal, and besides, I refuse to prove Dario right by acting immature.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“What a jerk,” I mutter, heading back to my car. I feel like such a fool, and I’m grateful no one was around to witness that.

I slip back into my car and find a new parking spot, and as I start maneuvering into my dress, one thought dominates my mind. Is Dario headed to the same event as I am? Will I run into him again?

I shake my head to clear the thought.

I may not know what caused the rift between Dario and my brother, but I do know that the teenage boy who used to lift me up so I could reach the Lucky Charms from the top shelf is long gone. In his place is the most gorgeous but infuriating man I’ve ever met.

Well, as far as I’m concerned, this entire encounter never happened. We don’t run in the same circles. I’m sure I’ll never see him again.

I won’t let him ruin my night; I remind myself. Not at this event. Not ever.

Good riddance.