Sacred Vow (The Vitale Heirs #1)

Prologue

Romeo

Painted fingernails gripped my sleeves from both sides, each woman determined to stake her claim.

Escape was impossible. Not from the attention.

Not from the expectations. Being heir to the Vitale empire had never been the problem.

Wading through an endless parade of future Mrs. Vitale candidates was enough to make me wish, if only for a moment, that I'd been born someone else.

None of them saw me. They saw the future Don.

The Vitale fortune. The alliances our marriage could forge.

I moved outside into the shadows of the potted fruit trees and glared at them as if they were the enemy.

Why were they so damn cheerful? Didn’t they know their entire existence was to provide for our kitchen?

Their ripe fruit waiting to be plucked and split wide open, just like the girls inside wanted me to do to them.

Take them, claim them, give them a crown. Make them my queen…

Not a single one of them interested me. Mafia princesses from far and wide had arrived, trying to dig in their claws… I sighed, plucked a lime from the tree and hurled it over the balcony. It exploded against the stone below, spraying juice across the pristine pavers.

At least something around here had the decency to break.

“What has that fruit ever done to cause such a hostile reaction?”

My head spun at the deep resonance of my father's voice. Luciano Vitale had a knack for appearing out of thin air, always materializing exactly where you least expected him. It was a talent that had served our family well for decades.

“Papa. What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question. Where else would he be, this was his house after all.

“I followed the path of broken hearts and here you are.” He moved to stand beside me, gazing out over the estate illuminated by the massive fountain in the circular driveway.

Our home was every inch a Tuscan palace, despite the fact that the Vitales were Sicilian.

Nonna, however, had been born in Tuscany, and Nonno had built her the home of her dreams.

I released a chuff as an explanation. He handed me a whiskey.

This was only the second time I remembered him offering me alcohol.

I was only seventeen, but the Vitale name had never allowed me to be just a boy.

He tapped my tumbler. “Salute.” He toasted, and took a deep drink.

I watched, and followed suit. Enjoying the burn in my throat and the flaming heat in my belly.

“So why are you giving our fruit trees a death glare?”

Pfft. “Those girls are annoying and I don’t like a single one of them.”

He nodded his head, processing my words. I was fortunate that honesty was more important than blind obedience to my father. I had many friends that were not so lucky.

“None?”

“They don’t want me, Papa, they want a crown.” The ice popping in his drink was setting my nerves on edge.

“What do you want, Romeo? Hmm, what do you imagine a mafia queen to be?”

I turned to face him. “I want what you and mama have. I want something real, lasting. A woman, not a spoiled princess.”

Laughter. My father was bent over laughing. I stood transfixed having rarely seen him smile, let alone laugh. Was he drunk?

“I’m sorry son. I was not laughing at you.” He wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

I wasn’t amused and waited for an explanation. He took his time, with a long pull from his drink. “Your mother hated me.”

The crystal tumbler fell from my hand, shattering on impact. I bent to gather the broken pieces, but my father shook his head. “Let the staff do their job Romeo. Yes. Your mother hated me. It was an arrangement, but when I saw the fire in her eyes, I knew.”

“Knew what papa?”

“That she would be my queen. She had spirit. I needed a woman who could sew me up when I was shot, understand I’d be out more than I was home, and have enough backbone to raise my sons in my absence.”

His eyes shone as he spoke, another rarity. “I knew when we met that she would be all of those things. She just needed a little convincing that I was the right man for her.”

I’d never heard this story before and it was like a punch to the head. Never in a million years would I suspect that my parents ever didn’t have a perfect marriage.

“She became the love of my life, once she chipped through my armor.” He turned from the view and held my gaze.

“You need a woman, Romeo, not a princess, not a doormat, but a woman who has fire in her spirit like your mother, and you will find her one day.

I dare say she may just land in your arms when you least expect it…