Page 47 of Brutal Vows

“Matteo runs our traditional businesses, imports, exports, with some occasional help from the rest of us. He pushed early on for Bitcoin, and well, that’s been a fun ride. Us younger lot, we got into tech, and run one of the biggest porn sites in the States. The backend of things. The platform. IT support and so on. We get our camgirl cut and make money selling advertising space. Sometimes when we learn someone got doxxed or is being stalked, whatever it is, we deal with the problem on the side. Like in…we make it go away.” I sigh. People have always paid the Mafia for ‘protection.’ Things have changed, but they also stay exactly the same. “The Don—my dad—saw the way things were going when he came to America with the rise of the internet, and one thing he knew for sure is that sex sells. Still waiting for him to be proven wrong. Not holding my breath though.”

She leans back, digesting this information. “Okay. But you’ve…you’ve seen—” A simple wave of her hand down her body.

“Yes, princess.”

And I’m fucking obsessed. All I want is to touch you. And hold you. And kiss you. Love you when you’re ready.

She drops her face to her knees again, hiding.

“Hey,” I murmur, hesitating before shifting closer so I can touch her, softly stroke her hair. “Don’t be embarrassed, Milana. You’re not the first person that’s happened to.”

“It was the biggest betrayal,” she whispers, her voice muffled with her mouth pressed to her knees, not looking up.

“I know. I’m sorry he did that to you.” I wait, give her a moment to collect herself.

“Did you know? On our wedding day?”

I chuckle. “No, it was one hell of a surprise. I thought the photos were of your brother’s mistress… Never thought for a second it could be his sister.”

She nods, and the silence stretches between us. Eventually, she looks up. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Who took those photos of you and spread them online?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kill him.” For you. For your peace of mind. For this new beginning you need.

She sucks her lip. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’d actually do it?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.” The need to kill this man burns in me like the rage that fueled Stephano to kill Franco Fiore. It’s in our blood, and at last, I’m starting to get my twin, to understand why he can get so violent, especially when it comes to women and protecting them. “Tell me.”

“You don’t have to kill anybody,” she says with a shrug, but a fresh tear slides down her cheek, speaking volumes. “He’s already dead.”

Fuck. The fucker hurt her, and disappointment rips through my innards. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. Ivan wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

23

MILANA

Of all the weird arranged-marriage conversations I thought I’d have with Luca, this was the last thing I’d expected. The awkward we’ll never-have-sex conversation. Tick. I’m not going to cook and be your darling trad wife, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Tick…okay, only sort of, it still needs some work. But ‘tell me who he is and I’ll kill him’? Nope. Not on my bingo card as a newlywed.

But to think he offered…God, it feels like I have someone in my court for the first time since landing back in the States. Someone who knows nothing, and yet knows how it all started going pear-shaped. Plus he is helping Masha, which takes the edge off—I’m one problem down, only a million to go. The relief is so intense, I’m ready to open the floodgates again, but instead bite my lip. When is he going to stop being a curve ball?

“I’m glad he’s been dealt with,” he says, breaking into my thoughts. “Good to know the Bratva doesn’t mess around with this type of thing.”

If only he knew how the Bratva has nothing to do with this aspect of things. I shoot him a small smile. “Thanks for offering.”

“Any time, princess. Knight in shining armor, at your service,” he says with a crooked smile, then stands. “You need to get some sleep.”

I nod, but suddenly, I don’t want him to leave. I want him to probe more, ask me questions, force me to talk about everything I’ve vowed to never talk about. Brutal vows I made, not realizing in the moment what I was signing up for, but I didn’t have a choice. Or did I? I made the rules; I get to change them, break them.

Imagine telling him everything⁠—

He leans in and presses an unexpected and very soft kiss to my hairline. “G’night.”

This man. All his tender gestures. They’re little sand grains piling up… One day, I’m going to cave under the weight of them all. But this one, this sweet, innocent kiss, cracks my defenses because who is immune to this level of unscripted compassion? Not me. And definitely not me in the long run.