Forbidden Dark Vows (Ruthless Billionaire Mafia Kings)

1. Ruby

1

RUBY

RUBY those poor fish in the river never knew that the tasty maggot might be their final meal. They never knew that the meal came with a lethal hook, one that would sink inside their gullet and reel them in before they even knew what hit them.

This feels the same.

There’s Alessandro Russo gliding around the ice without a care in the world in his black leather coat and shiny gold scarf. And here’s me: the maggot.

The guy can skate, I’ll give him that. He turns around so that he’s skating backwards, legs crossed, body all sleek angles and swarthy good looks, grinning at his friends before he executes a simple toe loop and whizzes off, a trail of teenaged girls in his wake.

Ugh!

Of course, he’s lapping up the attention like the cat that got the cream. He glides towards a couple of teenaged girls who are watching him from the edge of the rink, heads almost touching so that they can whisper about how hot he is, and hisses to a halt in the middle of them. I watch their cheeks turn pink as he offers them a hand each and leads them towards the middle of the ice where everyone will be able to watch the performance.

I don’t even know how I’m supposed to get close to him.

A glance at my mom, and she raises her perfectly groomed eyebrows with a nod in the actor’s direction.

Deep breath. I do a few laps of the rink, practicing my spins and salchows in time to the music and lose myself to the Friday-night atmosphere and the chill on my face. When I’m skating, I can forget everything else and pretend that I’m an ice princess, the way I used to do when I was younger.

The crowd around Alessandro Russo grows. I can still see his head above the girls trying to smother him with their autograph requests and their eager smiles, but he’s obviously basking in their adoration like a lizard in the sunshine.

I skate away from my mom and stop at the edge of the rink, bending to fasten the lace of my left boot which has come undone. As I do, someone knees me in the side and performs a somersault over the top of me, landing on their back on the ice like an upturned beetle. I hear the whump of air whooshing from their lungs and flinch.

It sounded like it hurt. A lot.

“Are you alright?” I move closer and offer the guy a hand, and he takes it with an embarrassed smile. At least he isn’t trying to fool me that he did it on purpose.

His hand is warm through his woolen glove, and his grip is firm, although he hauls himself upright and puts no pressure on me to help him.

He has a kind face, that’s my first thought. My second thought is that his eyes are the color of the sea on a clear day in fall. Pumpkins pop into my head. Fiery orange leaves, steaming coffee, and log fires.

“Sore,” he says, “but I guess that’ll teach me to watch where I’m going next time.” His gaze drifts towards the actor in the middle of the rink like a candy store owner handing out free sweeties.

“It’s what happens when you choose to come skating on the same evening as someone famous.” I shrug. “You should come midweek. You can practice falling elegantly as much as you like.”

He smiles, and his whole face lights up. “Is that what you do?” Heat floods his cheeks. “I mean, not that I’m suggesting you can’t skate. I’ve been watching you. Not like that, not in a pervy kind of way, just, well… You’re good.”

I can’t help laughing. “My mom made sure I could skate. She said no one wants to be seen flat on their back with their legs up in the air, at least, not when they’re wearing skates. She said if I didn’t learn, there was always the possibility that someone else’s blades would slice my fingers clean off.”

He blinks, those cool blue eyes growing even wider. This man doesn’t need an extra coat of mascara, that’s for sure. “She said that?”

“My mom’s full of life’s important lessons.”

He smiles again, his expression fading rapidly as his skates slide out from under him… While he’s standing still.

I offer him another hand, only this time, when he grabs it, I can’t help laughing. “On second thought, maybe you should stick to walking, or swimming. Although there’s always drowning…”

He’s laughing though. Which is a bonus. My mom always says I should try reining in the sarcastic humor when I’m in company because not everyone understands or appreciates it.

“Harry Weiss.” He shakes my hand.

“Ruby Jackson.”

“Do you want to?—”

He doesn’t finish because my mom has walked around the outside of the rink and is waving something at me. Harry follows my gaze, and I inhale deeply.

“Gotta go, sorry. Nice meeting you, Harry Weiss.”

He nods. “You too, Ruby Jackson.”

I feel mean abandoning him, but at least he can hold onto the side and pretend that he’s taking a break. My spot beside him is immediately filled by another guy in a smart tweed coat, and I recognize him as one of the men who arrived with Alessandro Russo. Maybe Harry knows him too.

“Ruby!” My mom grabs my attention, and I shove Harry Weiss to the back of my thoughts. Wrong surname. Probably wrong background, too for what my mom has in mind. “What are you doing?”

“Being friendly to the paying customers?” I’ve spotted my car keys in her hand and try to grab them, but she snatches them away from me.

“Nu-huh. Not until you get out there and get yourself noticed.”

“Have you seen how many people have had the same idea?”

She pockets my keys and sets her features into a this-is-me-you’re-talking-to expression. “Other people are not you, Ruby. Other people can’t skate right over there, grab his goddamn hand, and show him what you can do.”

“What makes you think he’ll be interested in what I can do?”

“He’s a good-looking, hot-blooded young man, and you’re a beautiful young woman.”

That’s it. That’s her reasoning, and she doesn’t even see anything wrong in the way she presented it like being a female is enough.

I don’t tell her that I’m done being a maggot. He’ll either notice me or he won’t. And even if I reel him in, there’s no guarantee that he won’t flip straight back into the water to chase the fish already wagging their tails in his face.

“You’re not getting your keys back until you do,” she says, “so I suggest you start performing now.” My mom walks away, her eyes on the prize who is currently autographing the back of someone’s hand, a well-practiced smile on his face.

I skate around the group of fans, giving my best impression of someone who doesn’t know that she’s in the presence of movie royalty. I don’t even look in Alessandro Russo’s direction. I focus on the blades cutting the surface of the ice, and everything I ever learned when my mom dragged me to the rink as a child.

I sense, rather than see, the shift in the atmosphere. The music grows livelier, cashing in on the Friday night experience, and the crowd starts moving away from the celebrity, giving him space to strut his stuff. Two tunes later, and he’s skating alongside me, hands behind his back like this was what he was born to do.

“Do you come here often?” He flashes me his most dazzling smile like that will seal the deal with minor effort on his part.

“Seriously? That’s your chat-up line?” Sometimes, I can’t help myself.

He laughs out loud. I bet it’s won him a few dates before now with that laughter. “Shit. You got me there. You’re good.” He gestures to the ice.

Here’s the point where I should tell him that he’s not so bad himself. You know, flirt a bit, bat my eyelashes at him. But then I spot Harry Weiss in my peripheral vision, clinging for dear life to the side of the rink as my mom approaches him, says something, and then waits for him to make his way off the ice.

Whatever she said, it worked. He glances my way, once, but he doesn’t smile or wave or even acknowledge that he almost took my fingers off. Nothing.

Then a new track comes through the speakers. ‘Love is in the Air’. It’s my dad’s favorite tune, and it hits me like a jolt straight through my heart that I’m doing this for my dad. For us. To give us all a better life. And I smile at the hot actor.