A Vow of Lust and Fury (Underworld Kings)

It felt like a trick question. One that had me swallowing any sharp retort I might have had. He stepped to the side as though gesturing for me to move past him. And suddenly, the room that had felt like a prison cell now felt like a haven.

“I’m not hungry.” My stomach growled out a betrayal, but I just grabbed the door, ready to slam it in his face.

His foot pressed against the wood before I could, fingers gripping the frame on both sides as though he were physically holding himself back. His biceps strained with the movement, and that sapphire gaze collided with mine, hard and filled with promises of violence.

“You have five minutes to get out here.” This guy really thought I’d just jump through his hoops.

“No.”

“You made a deal. I told you your brother’s alive. Of course, that could always change….”

I jabbed a finger into his very unforgiving chest. “Are you threatening Renzo’s life just because I won’t do what you say?”

He pressed into my touch, and I was caught somewhere between hate and the urge to push my entire palm to his warm skin. “Are you breaking your word?”

I yanked away my hand, eyes raking his body with feigned disgust. “No. I’ll eat. Just not now, and certainly not with you.”

I swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, but it was gone in an instant. He stepped back into the hall, straightening to his full height.

“Don’t be a brat, Emilia.”

A brat? I was a brat because I wanted my freedom? To be treated like a person and not cattle at market….

My temper rose like an angry viper, and I gripped the door. “Fuck you, Giovanni.” I slammed it in his face and stood there, pulse hammering in anticipation because I fully expected him to smash it down. To come in here and punish me, hurt me, bend me to his will. Instead, I heard his retreating footsteps and then silence. I didn’t know what to do with that. I’d only known the man for a day, but he was unpredictable, and I didn’t like unpredictable.

As much as the rebellious little voice in my head told me to dig in my heels, to fight him every step of the way to that damn altar, I was hungry. And I did really want out of this damn room. I glanced down at his T-shirt that barely covered me and wished I had some actual clothes, some armor against him. Everything I’d been wearing when he had caught me was covered in blood, my jeans cut up.

My stomach growled again, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since Renzo had stopped for fast food outside that shitty little town. On a deep breath, I pulled open the door and stepped out into the empty hallway. The wooden floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I made my way toward the living area, each careful footstep like a gunshot in the silence of the apartment.

When I reached the end of the hall, I lingered there like a stray cat, ensuring no one was around before coming out for scraps. The only illumination in the penthouse came from some strip lighting in the kitchen and the perpetual glow of the city below. Maybe Giovanni had left. Surely, he had better things to do than babysit me, mafia bad-guy shit to do. I glanced at the front door, the glossy black so inconspicuous. I knew it would be locked but couldn’t help myself.

I tried the handle. Locked and without any obvious keyhole, just the handle and what looked like a scanner for a key card. Okay, so it seemed like he was gone and I was alone. This was an opportunity. My stomach clenched again. Food first. Then escape. The contents of the refrigerator were meager, though it wasn’t like I actually had a clue how to make anything. In reality, cereal was about the extent of my skills. I decided to attempt a grilled cheese because how hard could it be? Even Renzo managed it. The thought of my brother had my chest tightening with guilt. I couldn’t even help myself right now, so how would I help him? Not like I could appeal to Giovanni’s heart. The man clearly didn’t have one.

I shoved my bread and cheese concoction into the oven under the burner, then uncorked a bottle of wine that was in the refrigerator and poured it into a mug because I couldn’t reach the glasses. My mother’s aghast face popped into my head. Come to think of it, drinking wine from a mug would be more horrifying to her than the fact I was being held prisoner and forced to marry against my will. She’d say I was lucky to be engaged to a man as handsome as him. Because you know, I had no say in who I married, so I should at least be grateful he was pretty. God, I hated my whole family. Except for Renzo and maybe Luca sometimes.