Page 29 of Vow to Corrupt You
We leave the garage; the Lamborghini purrs to life. We continue down the long driveway from his residence to the gate. The vehicle’s lights illuminate the path ahead of us, casting a glow at the gate that swings open. Cocooned in this luxurious interior, everything feels surreal. What am I doing here? In this car that costs more than my childhood house, sitting next to Italy’s most dangerous Mafia King? The most surreal part? I now call him my husband.
As soon as we hit the main road, Nikos floors the gas pedal, the engine roaring as we speed away. The Mercedes SUVs carrying his men follow in our wake, but we’re rapidly leaving them behind.
“Hop on my lap,” Nikos says, his voice cutting through the potent roar of the engine.
A rush of adrenaline surges through me. “What?” He must be joking. The speed he’s driving makes the idea seem not only reckless, but deadly.
The corner of his mouth lifts slightly while he stays locked on the road. “I want you on my lap. Now.”
“But you’re driving the car,” I stammer, “at full speed. It’s… dangerous.”
“That’s the fun in it.”
His grin sends my pulse racing.
I undo my seatbelt and move over, carefully sliding onto his lap. My back presses against the driver’s door from the inside while my hands instinctively wrap around his neck. His gaze remains fixed on the road, his focus unwavering.
Being this close to him, I can’t help but notice how gorgeous this man is. His chiseled features highlighted by the dashboard’s dim glow. His intensity, his control, his scent—it’s inebriating. My heart has never rumbled stronger as I cling to him, the rush of the drive and the closeness to him combining into a heady, exhilarating experience.
You know that feeling when you look at someone and instantly feel a strong physical attraction? The most intense pull? I do feel that way when I look at him. Why did it have to happen with the most ruthless man I’ve known, who held my brother captive? Whom I hated before I even met him. But I do not want to feel like this. I hate him for making me so… weak.
“Now kiss me,” he commands, and my heart skips a beat.
“Kiss you?” I stutter. “Now, while you’re driving at full throttle?” I’m not sure if it’s the real reason for the heat coursing through my body, or if it’s the idea of actually kissing him that has me on edge.
I look at him, gently planting my hand on his cheek, and lean closer. My gaze on his tempting lips, his on the road ahead. Ignoring my racing pulse, I close my eyes and capture his lips in a kiss. A low, throaty drawl rumbles in my ear, matching the thunder of the engine. The car’s speed melds with the intensity of the moment. The heat. The rush. It makes my head spin. It’s electrifying. He kisses me deeper, his focus never wavering from the road. The softness of his lips, combined with the roughness of his stubble, frees a cage of butterflies in my belly. I lose myself in the kiss, the indescribable sensation of adrenaline and arousal it gives me. One wrong move, and we might end up rolling over, and the thought makes me feel so… alive.
I pull away, breathless, and he smirks, his eyes flicking between mine for a brief moment before focusing on the road again.
“Wasn’t that the best feeling ever?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of titillation. “The adrenaline rush, the exhilaration.” He casts a fleeting glance at me. “Feeling alive yet?”
I nod, still catching my breath. It was. I never thought something so dangerous could seem so alluring to me. It’s like what I imagine a shot of pure heroine feels like, and it is… addictive.
Nikos’s daring smile widens as he accelerates even more, inadvertently forcing my head to nestle into his neck.
The rest of the way, I nuzzle into him, inhaling his woodsy, musky, beguiling scent. I watch his chest rise and fall, and I swear I can hear his heartbeat. At least I know he’s human and alive.
We arrive at what I assume is the secret society gathering, and from afar, I see its emblem—a triangle with the shape of an eye inside of it, resembling the All-Seeing Eye.
“Olympus,” I read the name below the emblem. “Is this what the society is called?” In awe, I hop back into my own seat as Nikos drives to the gate. The building itself is enormous, with white Greek columns reminiscent of the Pantheon.
“Yes, here in Italy. Each club has its own unique name, for security reasons. The society itself is referred to as The Gods.” He tells me this as he lowers the car’s window.
“The Gods?” My brow arches.
“We are Gods in the crime world. Gods of Corruption.”
Olympus. The Gods. Of course. The ego of these men is higher than Mount Olympus itself.
Nikos pushes his left hand through his lowered window and scans a tattoo identical to the club’s emblem.
I stare at him, both puzzled and shocked in equal measure.
“It’s UV-reactive ink, visible only under UV light,” he clarifies before I even ask. “Each member of the society has one like it.”
My lips part in astonishment. I guess the little things I knew about the Romano syndicate are nothing compared to who they really are. And he… my husband, is far more powerful and dangerous than I thought.
“Are women allowed in the society?”
