Page 38 of Ruined Vows
“She doesn’t know anything yet. And she won’t—until I’ve wiped every last whisper of threat off the map.”
“She’s already a target,” he says pensively.
“I know.”
David stares at me. “You really are not going to tell her?”
“No,” I reply solemnly.
He studies me for a long second, then tosses the filled mag back into the gun case.
“You always were a quiet bastard.”
“And you always did talk too much.” I chuckle.
I love my brother. He has my back, always did, always will. I didn’t tell him about my deal with the Borrellis that paved the way for me to take over. I didn’t need to because he already knew. He’s highly competent and intuitive. I’m sure he read between the lines.
Besides, we both knew Miloš was headed to a bad end. He never played fair, and he was never good at losing. He was always erratic, impulsive, but also deadly. He lacked integrity and honor, which ultimately cost him his life.
We knew he would take over when Dad died. He was the oldest. Neither of us wanted him in power, but our hands were tied. We couldn’t say a word.
But now, I’m in charge. And my eyes are wide open to the fact that there will be defectors.
We need to root them out. It will take time, but I’m a patient man, especially when waiting benefits me.
David walks off, leaving me alone with the targets and the truth that the woman I’m falling for is walking blind into a house I’m still trying to purge of its rot.
And the men I have to kill?
They might try to take her from me first.
But I’ll bury them.
Even if it means burning what’s left of my soul to keep her safe.
I’m not Miloš.
My men need to get in line and fucking bow.
11
BIANCA
SMOKE SIGNALS AND TEXT MESSAGES
I’ve been so busy, I haven’t filled Joanne in on what’s going on in my life. So, I made it a point to confer with her face-to-face.
“I’m going to ruin him. Gut him and destroy him!” I huff as I sink into the chair inside our favorite coffee shop.
The coffee shop is small and understated, nestled between a yoga studio and a boutique that sells vintage perfume bottles and overpriced incense. The wood is dark, the lighting is soft, and the espresso? The kind that makes you believe in redemption.
Joanne doesn’t even look up from her iced matcha. “You say that like it’s a chore.”
“It is,” I say, stabbing my straw through the lid of my double espresso Frappuccino like it's his chest. “And I have to whine. Because if I don’t, I’ll end up married. I refuse to marry a man I don’t love. And, I’m too young to get married!” My voice is edgy, damn that man. He’s the bane of my existence.
She blinks and slowly lowers her lips to her drink. “Wait. Back up. What the hell are you talking about?”
She glares at me with confusion written all over her face.
