Page 163 of The Mafia's Broken Vows

I feel a spark of curiosity. I’ve heard so much about this enigmatic brother of Sophie’s, the man who indirectly propelled me toward my new career. My mind races with questions, but before I can ask any of them, the atmosphere shifts.

As if summoned by our gossip, a man appears at the large patio leading to the house. He scans the crowd for approximately half a second before making a beeline for us, moving through the sea of guests like Moses with a hangover. I watch, fascinated, as people instinctively step out of his way, their conversations faltering mid-sentence.

Holy shit. And I thought Nico looked dangerous. Cade Quinn is a fucking natural disaster in human form.

The first thing that strikes me is his raw, untamed beauty—and I use that term loosely, like calling a hurricane ‘breezy’. Dark blonde hair that’s just shy of ‘I’ve been electrocuted’ and more tattoos than skin. His simple T-shirt, leather jacket, and jeans ensemble screams ‘I could kill you with my pinky, but I’d rather not get blood on my boots’. He holds two large stuffed animals.

As he approaches, I can’t help but notice how his movements are both fluid and predatory. It’s like watching a panther stalk through a cocktail party.

He reaches us, and while his face remains stoic, something in his eyes softens imperceptibly when he looks at Sophie.

Sophie throws an arm around him in a bone-crushing hug. “Missed you, Cade!”

Cade simply drops a kiss on her head, endures the hug for a couple more seconds then gently disengages.

“Are you okay, Sparrow?” he asks Sophie, his voice like gravel being crushed by a steamroller. The concern in his tone contrasts sharply with his intimidating presence.

I notice one of the teddies is wearing a black eyepatch, a red bandanna, and what looks like a leather cut. The other looks to be in a police uniform.

“Of course I’m alright.” Sophie retorts, her chin jutting slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Cade’s lips twitch. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re surrounded by a bunch of overgrown tigers?”

Sophie smirks. “Says the bad-tempered T-Rex. Anyway, here’s Addy.” She turns to me. “Addy is Dante’s wife, and she runs that charity I told you about. Addy, my big brother, Cade.”

Cade’s gaze swings to me, and I beam at him. “Hello, Cade.”

His eyes, a shade of green I’ve never seen before, meet mine briefly before scanning the area, then comes back to rest on mine.

When he says nothing, I continue. “I feel like I know you already, but yeah, thanks again for . . . you know, your help with the Shadow gang situation. And getting the women out.”

At the mention of Shadow gang, the ghost of a smile flickers across Cade’s face, gone so fast I almost think I imagined it. He gives a short nod, his fingers tapping once against his leg.

Seconds tick by, stretching into what feels like minutes. I resist the urge to fidget under his gaze. His look isn’t lustful or hostile—it’s assessing, like he’s piecing together a puzzle.

Sophie eventually pokes him in the side, breaking the tension. “Use your words, Cade,” she mutters.

He grunts, “Right, Addy. You’re welcome.”

His tone is neutral but not cold. It’s direct and lacking in social niceties, but I find myself unbothered by it. There’s something refreshing about his straightforward manner.

And then to my surprise, Mezhen sidles up to us, her face redder than a fire truck at a chili cook-off. “Hi, it’s Special Agent Quinn, isn’t it?” she squeaks. Her English has improved a lot, but it still carries the lilt of her native accent.

Cade’s gaze flicks to her briefly before looking away. “At your service,” he says, his tone unchanged. If he recognizes her, he gives no indication. I realize with a start that this is just who he is—uninterested in, or perhaps incapable of, the social niceties most of us take for granted.

Sophie, ever the tactful hostess, smoothly cuts in. “Oh, Mezhen, exactly the person I wanted to catch. Can you help me tear the twins away from their toy war so they can meet their uncle?” I can see the disappointment on Mezhen’s face as Sophie leads her away.

Once we’re alone, I face Cade again, and I already know he’ll be perfectly comfortable standing there, silent until Sophie gets back. But if there’s something I’ve learned from Dante, it’s how effective poking the bear can be.

So I take a breath and say. “I hated Sean, you know—Sean Hall. My husband for, I don’t know, all of two hours. He was the head of the Shadow gang.”

Cade just continues to look at me.

“But of course, you know who Sean was. Anyway, in those few hours of marriage, I found out what pure hatred tasted like. And now, I love Dante more than I thought possible to love a person.”

Cade’s bored expression morphs into one of mild nausea. Gratified by his reaction, I press on. “But here’s the kicker,” I lean in slightly as if sharing a secret, “Hate feels so much better than love. Hate is a furnace that warms you from the inside while you plot your revenge. Love? Love’s a mindfuck that turns you into a drooling idiot.”

I notice a slight narrowing of the eyes, and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He’s listening, really listening.

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