Page 91 of Deadly Vows

“Then stop being so stubborn. It will only end badly for you,” he says.

I laugh again, causing pain in my jaw as I look at him.

“When he…finds out…what you’ve done…it won’t end…well…for you,” I manage.

Alexander watches me silently, his eye twitching slightly as he raises his hand, ready to strike, when hurried footsteps interrupt.

“Sir, you have a visitor.” Alexander’s maid enters the room, her face pale as she looks at her boss.

Irritation crosses his features as he looks at her. “Who the fuck is at my door at this hour?” he growls.

She struggles to speak, her eyes shifting to me briefly before Alexander screams at her.

“Well? Spit it out!” he snaps.

“I-It’s Luca Pasquino, sir.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Elise

My screams are muffled as Alexander drags me through his home with his hand over my mouth. His grip is too strong for me to break free, no matter how much I thrash and scream. I’ve never felt so desperate, not even under Luca’s roof.

Alexander drags me into his office, his hold remaining around me as he reaches for a switch near his desk. And the moment he releases my mouth, I scream.

“Luca! Luca, I’m in here! Save me—agh!” The world blacks out for a split second as Alexander hits me across the face. My feet stumble, and I am unable to hold myself up, collapsing right next to his desk as the world spins. My limbs won’t listen to me. I can’t open my mouth, I can’t even stand as the large painting behind his desk lifts, revealing the door to what appears to be a safe room.

“Ngh,” I groan as I try to crawl away, but Alexander grips me roughly around the ankle, dragging me across the floor. He roughly lifts me up, throwing me into the panic room. Mystomach dips as I miss the first few steps of the stairs, and I crash to the cement floor below. I look up just as Alexander stands in the doorway, watching me with an evil glint in his eyes.

“This room is soundproof. It can only be opened from the outside if whoever is inside doesn’t know the code. Make enough noise and maybe he’ll hear you. Or maybe the six feet of concrete will make it difficult for him,” he chuckles.

“No!” I scramble up the steps, stumbling as he pulls the heavy door shut, locking me in.

“Fuck you!” I screech, banging my hands against the metal. Tears spill down my cheeks as I frantically scream for Luca, my hands burning in pain from the consistent hits. I slowly sink to the floor, sobbing at how close yet far I am from being rescued.

An electronic whirring pulls my attention.

At the bottom of the steps, deeper into the safe room, another painting slowly lifts, revealing a screen with Alexander’s study on it. Live.

My heart beats against my chest as I slowly approach to see Luca walking in the room. He isn’t alone. Romelo is with him. He looks apathetic as he glares at Alexander. And just as Alexander presses something on his desk does sound filter into the room.

“Luca Pasquino. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Luca

Alexander Volski is a miserable man. And as I step through his home, I realize I’ve never met someone who lacks so muchpersonality. It also makes me realize how much warmth and life Elise brought to our home.

Alexander and I grew up together. And we’ve always hated each other—that’s a fact. He doesn’t work in the same circles as me. He’s in a smaller, less powerful ring. But anytime a family falls, Alexander is in the midst of it, hoping to steal whatever power is left for himself. He and the Sokolov’s have always worked in close quarters, which is why it took me taking Ivan’s eye just to get a list of the bidders from Elise’s auction.

Alexander’s name was third on the list. But I wouldn’t put it past him to have taken Elise. He’s always coveted everything that I have. And I pray he doesn’t have Elise. He is known for his brutality. And not to people, to women specifically. He has an odd obsession with it, known in worst cases for sending them to the hospital.

As I step into his office, I note that there isn’t a hair out of place, nothing signifying if Elise is here or not—all the more reason to suspect him.

“Luca Pasquino. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asks.

I roll my eyes at his tone as I sit in the seat across from his desk to study him. His shirt is slightly wrinkled, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Even his breathing is even.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the news about my wife,” I say, studying his reaction.

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