Cruel Vows

He growls softly. “It’s the truth.” A crease forms between his brows as he thinks. “You wanted to be a nurse, right?”

The fact he remembers surprises me as I nod.

“Then, I will enroll you in the best training in the city. You will need a bodyguard, but you’ll get your qualifications.”

“And I can apply for a job?” I ask, skeptical about how that will work.

“Not exactly. You’ll already have one at the private clinic our family owns.”

My heart skips a beat as I search his eyes, wondering if all along I misjudged the man before me.

“I want to make things right, princess. When I first saw you...” He trails off as if unable to find the words. “The possessiveness I felt. The sheer desperate need to make you mine was overwhelming. I can’t explain why or how I knew. I just knew we were meant for each other. Does that make sense?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

He chuckles, but it’s laced with sadness. “I love you so fucking much. Of course I want you to be happy.”

There he goes again, telling me he loves me. A flutter ignites deep in my belly and my heart pounds a little erratically.

Love means nothing.

My mom told us everyday she loved us, and she still left us alone in the world, passed through a system so corrupt and abusive it would have been better to live on the streets at times.

I feel pain claw at my throat as I care for him, but saying those three words to anyone freaks me the hell out.

He kisses me, filling the silence thankfully.

I melt into the kiss, returning it with the same aching passion. Deep down, I think I am falling for the man who took me hostage. A man who does care for me in his own twisted way.

Allowing me to pick back up training as a nurse is a step in the right direction. It would allow me a freedom and my own sense of identity, something I’ve been lacking for the past year since Rick got involved with Axel’s club.

When we break apart, he nods toward the stairs. “Come on, we need to get ready for tonight.”

I nod in reply. “Okay.” As I follow him up the stairs, I can’t deny that I haven’t felt so light in a long time. Maybe the man who took me captive was only setting me on a path toward freedom rather than captivity.

* * *

The clubwhere the meeting is being held at is an exclusive place where only rich people come. It’s a far cry from the bar Axel owns.

A bouncer stands outside in front of the red carpet entrance. “Name?” He glares at my husband.

Massimo flexes his muscles. “Don’t be a fucking idiot and let me in before I knock you out.”

The man’s eyes narrow, but he steps aside, allowing us in. Luca and Massimo’s cousin, Rico, follow us inside.

Leo refused to come after his altercation with Massimo.

There’s not many people inside, since it’s still early, but we’re ushered toward a room at the back.

A man with dark brown hair and piercing gray-blue eyes greets us at the doorway. “Massimo, glad you could come.” There’s something off about the look in his eyes as his attention moves to me. “This must be the beautiful Mrs. Morrone?”

Massimo turns rigid by my side.

“Lovely to meet you,” the man says, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. “I’m Spartak.”

A throaty, beast like growl comes from my husband, forcing this man to smirk.

“Calm down.” He claps Massimo on the shoulder. “I’m well and truly taken by your cousin, if you forgot.”

As if on cue, a beautiful young woman walks up to us, smiling widely. “Massimo, it’s so good to see you.” She hugs him and some of the tension eases from his shoulders as he hugs her back.

“Hey, Imalia,” he says, glancing over at me. “I want you to meet my wife.”

Her eyes light up as they move to me. “You must be Paisley.”

I smile. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out, but she waves it away and pulls me into a hug.

“It’s lovely to meet you, too.” She beams at Massimo. “I’m so glad you could come to an agreement to work together.”

Spartak and Massimo look less than thrilled as Spartak clears his throat. “Yes, well, it’s that or allow my nephew to wipe us all off the map.”

My brow furrows as I glance at Massimo questioningly, wondering what he’s talking about. One thing I’ve noticed is he doesn’t like to talk with me about his work. Anytime I ask him about his day, he just grunts at me.

His jaw clenches and he breaks our eye contact. “Indeed, there wasn’t a choice.” He glances at his watch. “What time is Hernandez expected?”

“Fifteen minutes. Rourke isn’t here yet.” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “If I find out Adrik killed his father, I’ll—”

“You can’t do anything, not until we have the Cartel on our side.”

Spartak’s eyes flash with a dangerous rage at my husband telling him he can’t do something. “Watch your tongue, boy.”

A younger man with dark hair approaches and similar eyes, although they’re a more striking blue than gray. “Rourke has just arrived,” he says.

Spartak nods. “Paisley, this is my son, Maxim.”