Page 9 of Deceptive Vows
"Plan?" I asked, looking at Pasha.
A smile tugged at his lips. "How long have weknown each other?"
“Too long for me to lie to you.” I relented, exhaling. My fingers drummed against my knee as I admitted, "You'd need to talk to Lucas. Request a meeting. We could tell them about our meeting with Marco. Tell them about the auction…."
"And?"
"We give the illusion to Marco that you've offered an alliance through marriage to Thea. Assuming Marco doesn't want the church desecrated, we plan a hit for the reception. We tell him our men will surround the place, and we'll open fire. Done."
He chuckled. "I did say you should marry her…"
Despite myself, I laughed too, shaking my head at the joke from the night before. He always said I’d fall for the most lethal woman I could find.
It wasn’t about wanting to be with a killer. I needed someone who could take care of herself. This life, my life as a vor, was unforgiving.
My wife couldn’t be fragile, and she couldn’t be a liability. She needed to be my equal. A partner who could stand beside me, not behind me. Someone who could challenge me, strengthen me, and free my mind from theconstant worry of whether she could survive my world.
"Nyet.She’s not the one.” I shrugged off the thought, checking my phone for updates on our Chicago arrangements and avoiding Pasha’s knowing gaze. “We both know now isn’t the time for relationships. I need to focus on the Gray Wolves when we’re back in New York.”
Pasha sobered. "All right. I'll see if I can get a last-minute meeting. Maybe you can find a carrot that will give us a better chance?"
"Da."
Even as the word left my mouth, I wasn't thinking about strategy.
I was thinking about her.
The woman with the knife. Stunning and unflinching. The one who'd leveled a threat and followed through—all while knowing I was watching.
Now Marco wanted her dead.
And I'd just volunteered to walk into her life with a plan that included a show complete with a ring.
I should never have voiced the idea.
But I did… and now I had a feeling the victim would be me.
Chapter Three
NAZAR
The interiorof Lykos spoke of wealth without shouting it. Dark wood paneling, intricate carvings, tastefully placed decorations. Two grand chandeliers hung from the ceiling and cast a golden glow, while soft clinking of glassware and muted conversation provided an intimate backdrop.
The air carried faint scents of polished wood and something spiced—cinnamon or clove. Booths with high backs lined one wall, offering privacy, while small, square tables filled the open space. Each table seemed strategically placed, adaptable for larger gatherings. Not difficult toimagine power plays happening here—deals made, alliances formed, rivals outmaneuvered. I noted the absence of security cameras in the main space. Deliberate.
I should have been focused on Marco Moretti, on the Gray Wolves, on keeping our territory secure. Instead, I kept thinking about that woman from the bar, the precision of her throw, the way she'd known I was watching, the shadows playing across her face as she disappeared into the night.
And yet, I couldn't stop myself from wondering…almost hoping that there was a chance she’d be here. I told myself it didn’t matter. It was just another meeting. Just another job. My pulse told a different story.
But business came first, and this meeting was too important for distractions.
The meetingwith the Kalantzis family came with complications. I'd researched them thoroughly beforehand, as much as time had allowed, learning that Lucas Kalantzis, the eldest, and his siblings—Dimitris, Ari, Thea, and Alexander operated as a unit. Together, they ran Lykos and the family’s broader enterpriseswhile the extended family stayed at arm’s length, enjoying the spoils without the dirty work.
Pasha had contacted Lucas late the night before, and he’d returned the call just before dawn. We didn’t expect a face-to-face—only a chance to prove we weren’t another threat. Offering to scrub Lucas’s internet presence was the first show of good faith. But it was the intel—detailed and recent—that Marco had put out a kill order, complete with a wedding proposal, that earned us a seat at the table. Lucas already knew Marco wanted him dead. Now he had a chance to look inside the playbook.
The staff moved with quiet efficiency, black uniforms blending with the decor. Sharp eyes assessed us briefly before returning to their duties. Professionals, not just servers.
A tall man in a tailored suit approached. “Gentlemen, I’m Ari Kalantzis,” he said, voice smooth and measured.
