Page 109 of Dangerous Vows

Because it’s always been her.

Baby or no baby.

It’s her that I want.

I scoop her into my arms and carry her to bed.

I’m fucking this silly notion out of her head. The thought that all I care about is the baby is absurd. And I’m going to pound her tight little pussy into submission.

The warehouse smellslike cold steel and old blood—neutral ground, but not by choice. It's far enough from our ports and his docks for both of us to be uncomfortable. Good, because no one gets too comfortable in a meeting like this.

Julia obtained Vukan’s information, and Matteo reached out. I’m sure that piqued his interest. We approach the building with our men behind us. Gio remains at the door, and we have sharpshooters placed on the perimeter for the ‘just in case’ scenario.

Perhaps this is why I had to have Amara this morning. I can’t leave this world with her thinking I don’t care about her when, in fact, I love her. The thought of us, happy with kids around us, is sublime. She’s given me purpose beyond my immediate family. She’s given me a glimpse of what the future can be if I reach out and take it. And so today, I’m doing just that. I’m carving out a deal that will set the tone for how that future will be lived.

I hope.

We’re patted down for weapons, and when the burly mercenary is satisfied, he grunts for us to enter. The overhead lights are dim, and the warehouse is filled with pallets of vodka.

When we reached the table, I saw that Vukan was already there. He’s seated at the metal table like he owns it with his legs crossed and a reserved look on his face. I can tell he’s smoking by the smoke ring that hangs above him, and as we step closer, I notice a silver ring glinting on his finger. He must be a tall man, as his legs stretch for miles and tattoos cover every inch of his body.

His expression is unreadable. Not that I would understand the Serb, even on a good day.

“Gentlemen,” he says smoothly, his Serbian accent brushing the edges of his words. “I was beginning to think you’d stand me up.” He puffs his cigarette, and when he exhales, he does so slowly, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“We’re not in the habit of wasting our time,” Matteo replies, his voice is commanding but cold.

Vukan smiles like this is all a game. “Good. We won’t waste any more—time.” And the way he pauses before the word ‘time’ has me on edge—like ours is running out.

Fuck me. I’d hate to live with him, he’s proficient in psychological warfare.

He gestures to the plastic chairs, and we sit, summing each other up to the best of our abilities. The man’s presence is enough to make men quake in their boots. He a large man—broad shoulders, chiseled chin, and steely gray eyes. He’s older than Matteo and judging only by his weathered face, I’d say he’s a man who’s seen more death than life, and he’s tempered it with booze and dangerous decisions.

He’s a transplant from Serbia, but his English is good, even if he has the accent of his homeland.

He gestures to the empty chairs across from him. We sit. My eyes remain locked on his face, watching every twitch and every flicker as if it will project the outcome of our meeting.

He’s cagey—to have skipped out to meet with us without his brother knowing is risky. Or does his brother know? I suppose I’ll have to wait and see how this unfolds. Will we strike a deal or not is the only thought running through my mind.

If I were in his shoes, I would be nervous, but Vukan takes his time, his dark brown eyes meet mine with a steadfast gaze.

“So, you fell for the woman,” he says, and for a second, I see a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re a fool, but I admire your bravery.”

“She’s someone I’d like to keep alive,” I deadpan.

“Of course. Leave it to a woman to unravel empires,” he chuckles. “You have so much at stake, a baby, a woman. You have so much to lose.”

I moved to the edge of my seat, ready to strangle him. How dare he talk about my woman?

“Relax, I mean no disrespect,” and he flicks his fingers out peacefully.

His brother is tearing down the city brick by brick, and Vukan’s standing in the fallout with blood on his hands, whether he earned it or not.

Still, there’s something else in him.

Ambition or vision?

No one would want to inherit his brother’s mess. Does he desire something better, cleaner, and more sustainable?

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