Page 48 of Brutal Vows

As I sink into the most restful sleep I’ve had in years, I plan the next steps to our forever future in my dreams.

Loretta Giordano will be my bride. I’ll make her the newest member of both the Mancini and Russo families. Pops will love her. Nico will protect her if anything happens to me. Serenity, Natalie, and Bella will be the sisters she always wished she had.

I wake in a rush as sound blares from the other room. Loretta pops awake and sits up as I stumble from the bed.

“Don’t get up,” I grumble.

She flops back onto the bed. I smile as I stalk down the hall. She must have been one sassy little girl growing up. If she showed this amount of spunk and attitude as a child, then I don’t blame her parents for letting her undergo surgery for her twin.

Part of me aches just knowing her love for her sister is part of the reason she stifled her natural expressions.

I stalk to the foyer, dig my phone out of my duffel, and answer my father’s call. In his typical no-nonsense way, he tells me his palliative care team had an unexpected opening this afternoon.

“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes, Pops,” I say.

He grunts his affirmation and hangs up. I turn to find Loretta standing, fully nude, in the living room.

“You’re not staying?”

My heart stops at the vulnerable expression on her face. With her hair mussed and sleep hazed eyes, she’s too stunning and precious to seem so sad and scared.

I close the distance between us and wrap her in my arms.

“Neither are you,gattina. Get dressed. You’re coming with me,” I rumble.

She drops her forehead to my chest and returns my hug.

“Oh, right. Yeah,” she mumbles.

After a dejected sigh, she lifts her head and pins me in place with a stern look.

“I haven’t treated your wounds yet.”

With bold determination, she takes my hand and pulls me to the kitchen. Stark naked with my phone in my hand, I ignore my hard cock as she directs me this way and that, willing to play as her puppet as she smears ointment over my bruises and plants closed-mouth kisses over my scars.

Loretta Giordano will be the death of me.

I can’t wait to share the rest of my life with her.

Chapter 13

Loretta Giordano

I run my palm down my thighagain and steal a glance at Ermanno from the corner of my eye as he flicks on his blinker and checks his side-view mirror.

With every turn he makes, he drives deeper into New York City. My nerves jangle harder with every passing moment.

I never visit the city center and rarely venture closer than the clinic because it’s too risky. I never wanted to run into people my stepsister stiffed, and after Ermanno revealed her nasty scheme of pitting so many ruthless men against each other, I’m even more hesitant.

Plus, I’m wearing sweats. No panties. No bra. Ermanno dressed me, even brushed and braided my hair in some elaborate, chunky design before ushering me out the door.

I’ll never admit the pressure on my scalp feels good. It’s as though I can still feel his hands on me. I’m also silently grateful for the no panties thing. The soreness between my legs rivals the pain of a thousand direct punches to the cooch.

Probably because that’s what I survived this morning. A feral battering from a massive cock.

This time yesterday, I saw Ermanno for the first time.

How can twenty-four hours change a person’s life so much?

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