Page 12 of Brutal Vows

Before I reach the next dumpster, I’m hit by a semi from behind. I brace myself for an agonizing fall but find myselfpinned against the wall with my hands over my head and thick fingers tight around my throat instead. His hard, masculine body flattens my softer curves to the building.

I should hate it. I should fight.

I can’t. He’s too strong. Too big. Too perfect.

He overpowers me with ease and rips my need for human touch wide open, leaving me a trembling ball of desperation.

I close my eyes, blocking my view of his face, but it’s too late. His slate-grey eyes, thick lashes, kissable lips, and tempting jawline superimpose themselves in my mind’s eye so no matter what I imagine, his handsome features remain visible.

“You know you’ll only piss me off more if you cry, so don’t bother squeezing out a few tears.Capisci?” he snarls.

I curl my hands into fists and fight the emotions storming through me. My soul threatens to split in two from the turmoil.

“How long have you been in New York?” he asks.

I swallow but can’t think beyond my mixed feelings. He feels so good pressed against me, but the menace wafting off him scares the hell out of me.

He scoffs and tightens his hand around my throat.

“This isn’t your normal getup. Who are you conning this time, Julieta?”

Shock spears through me even as understanding dawns. He thinks I’m my stepsister. Horror grows within me.

Before she ruined the tattered remains of my life in San Jose, she came to New York City for a few weeks with one goal; catch the eye of the next up-and-coming consigliere to the most powerful mafia family in the big city. Knowing her, when she couldn’t gain his affection, she burned as many bridges as possible.

I know who this man is. His reaction proves it.

Ermanno Mancini, the man my stepsister wanted to use for her own gain but couldn’t. The most lethal man in the New YorkCity mafia scene pins me to the wall in a back alley with no escape in sight and fury emanating from him.

Despite my stilted breaths from his weight pressed against my body and his grip around my throat bordering on cruel, my soul warps his touch into pleasure and uses it to feed the black hole yearning for physical contact with another human being.

When hetsksand leans closer, I accept my fate and pull my resolve tight around me.

I’d rather he think I’m my stepsister than reveal my identity and put my twin in danger. I don’t know what my estranged stepsister did to make him hate her, but if pretending to be Julieta will stop this psycho from digging around and realizing Livia operated on the Russian mob boss eight months ago, then I’ll gladly accept whatever punishment he intends to dole out.

If that means ignoring how my body sparks to life despite the cruelty of his grip around my throat and the brutality shining from his eyes, then I’ll do it.

I’ll do anything to protect my twin, even if it means putting myself at the mercy of a monster.

I lift my lashes knowing I won’t find an ounce of compassion in his slate-grey eyes.

Chapter 4

Ermanno Mancini

Despite my hatredof the conniving bitch, lust floods my veins as she lifts her lashes and aims bright green orbs at me. I don’t remember her irises being so crystal clear, but maybe the nearly eighteen years since I’ve seen her altered my memory and the sunlight streaming down on us makes them seem brighter than before.

She swallows and studies my face.

Doubt dampens my hatred. From afar, she’s exactly as I remember, but up close, something feels off.

The Julieta I know would immediately switch tactics and rub her breasts against me and simper her way out of danger, but the woman before me calculates her options and lifts her chin in defiance.

She’s gorgeous. If she hadn’t turned out to be such a backstabbing whore, I might’ve married her all those years ago, but I’m no longer in my early twenties and desperate to prove myself.

“This has nothing to do with you, so back off,” she demands.

My cock stiffens at the challenge in her stare and the hardness in her tone.

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