Page 91 of Dangerous Vows

But Amara tripped me up. She is the perfect Trojan Horse. If her father knew he could dismantle us so easily, the Morettis would have sent her to us on a golden platter years ago.

Her father won’t let her walk away from this mess. He needs her to stop the Serbs from dismantling his empire.

I sleep in my room at the opposite end of the house. It’s still not easy. I long to rest beside her, but I can’t risk it. I have to be on point.We have a mission because our future and that of our children depend on our success.

My bed is too firm, too cold, and the nights are far too quiet. But I can’t risk being close to hers. Every night, I lie awake envisioning us together. Every night, I wake up with a raging hard-on. It’s torture to know I can walk to her at any hour, and she would fill my needs.

But I have to be strong.

The temptation is torture.

But my stubbornness is paying off.

She’s down the hall, hurt, and alone—and I’m the asshole who put her there.

I should be beside her.

But it’s the one luxury I can’t afford.

Every day, I hear her footsteps, soft and uneven, I feel my fucking chest splitting in two. She’s broken because of what that bastard did to her whenIwasn’t there to stop. I think of the bruises, the way she winced when I touched her ribs, the blood on her lip.

And all I can see is the Borrelli curse.

It’s not some myth. It’s a fucking Grimm Fairy Tale that’s hangs over me. And it’s been passed down with whispers and warnings.

It’s real.

Matteo nearly lost Alena to a gunshot. Renalto has been haunted by his past. Hell, his wife could have died on his wedding day. And then there’s Niccoló, who had his scare with the relentless rapist. It’s not a pretty picture.

We’re men who are too dangerous to love.

And now it’smyturn.

I fell for Amara.

And look what happened.

She was taken, beaten, and used like a pawn in a war I was born into.

I tell myself every night that if I keep my distance, she’ll be safer. I’m pushing her away to protect her because I can’t protect her if I’m wrapped around her finger.

I can’t think straight when I’m near her. I lose my mind when shesmiles, her voice is my favorite music, and the way she banters with me is second to none.

But it all leads to one fact. She’s a distraction.

And distractions get people killed.

If I hadn’t been so fucking consumed with touching her, and claiming her, I would’ve seen it coming.

Now?

I’m laser-focused. I know every detail as we hunt for Miloš. I’ve read every report Julia sends. I’ve reviewed footage, mapped what we’ve learned of him, and we’ve studied Elio’s routines. I don’t miss a thing—because I’ve cut her out.

And yet…

When I see her walking through the kitchen—ghostlike, hair pulled back in a ponytail—it feels like I’ve already buried her.

She’s a smaller version of herself. Faded. Diminished.

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