Page 38 of Lethal Vows

I pretend to be confused. “No, I was able to walk in. Maybe the cleaners left it open?”Actually, I picked the lock.

A “harrumph” is his reply.

“Why are you here so early?” I ask, suddenly realizing that most of the firm’s employees don’t clock in for another hour. Mr. Luca has been around a lot more since Brian’s death, and I wonder if that’s because he’s worried one of his biggest investments has a lot of questions revolving around it. Or perhaps his father wants him on the ground doing his dirty work.

“I’ve just been assisting, you know, with damage control and all.”

“Ah.” I nod in understanding. “Well, now that I can’t find it, I’ll go off memory.” I walk around the desk and head for the door.

“Is this regarding the Torrisi case?” he asks.

I turn to face him. “No, a different case. Why’s that?”

“You’re close to closing it, is all. And it seems to be leaning in your favor.”

I offer an assured smile. “It always does.”

“I just want to make sure you’re not having too hard of an issue with them. I know Andreas can be very intimidating. Your meeting the other day looked intense.” It takes me a moment to understand what he is referring to. Then it dawns on me.My meeting with Andreas Torrisi, who asked about Crue.

“They can all be intimidating. But that’s why I’m the best,” I remind him. And it goes without saying as to why the board offered me Brian’s job. But before he can ask me any more questions, I’m out the door, saying, “Have a good day, Mr. Luca.”

Fuck.

And I’m no closer to validating Angel’s claims.

CHAPTER20

Crue

Aweek without seeing her, tasting her again, is slowly starting to kill me. But I have to put pieces in place, and I need to keep my distance so she thinks she has the upper hand.

She doesn’t.

But she’s a smart enough woman that she’ll figure that out incredibly soon. I never told her how long our agreement would last.

I watch the news, which I never do. But there’s a reason I tune in today. Rya’s on the channel, being interviewed as she comments on the Torrisi case. It looks like the case will be coming to a close in a few weeks and she’s been working on it for the last six months. Even though despite all evidence and the Torrisi’s son recently making a spectacle of himself, she has it under wraps.

She’s beautiful, powerful, and unwavering on the screen. She’s wearing a knee-length black dress that accentuates all her curves, and her hair is wrapped into a tight bun. I want to tug on that bun and let her caramel hair fall free. To kiss those fuckable lips. I wonder what others might think if they knew how fiery this little vixen is off-screen. My cock twitches. Not that I would ever share what she’s like outside of the courtroom. That’s for my eyes alone.

She is definitely the only one who can uphold the Monti name and take her place as my wife.

I hear light chatter outside my office. My mother and Angel fluttering about the baby. Since the news of Angel’s pregnancy, my mother reminds me daily of my responsibility that it’s time I provide an heir.

By my age, my parents had already had Dominic and me. Not that it mattered. They needed an heir out of obligation, but my father never wanted kids. It was obvious in the way he looked down on us and treated us. Dominic saw less of it because my father’s attention was mostly on me as the oldest son.

I knew what my father did for work. He’d taken me into many rooms with him where he shot people dead without so much as a warning. He’d even killed a waitress for bringing my mother the wrong type of soup once. No one in the restaurant so much as screamed, let alone went to the body. And we were forced to continue casually dining as blood pooled inches away from my dangling feet. I was five at the time.

How he could do the things he did to make me the best and at the same time try to justify his cruelty, I will never know. I was twelve when I made my first kill. He brought me into a spare room in the house. One I’d studied in multiple times as a child. A man was chained to a seat, hooded, gagged, and bloody.

But that time was different. I could feel the change in the air as my father slapped his sausage fingers on my shoulder and puffed on his cigar.

“It’sabout time you make something of yourself, boy,” he demands as he walks past me and whips the bag off the muscled man’s head.

Blood drains from my face.

Curtis.

He’s served my family for ten years and was Dominic’s and my personal bodyguard. And now here he sits, a half-broken mess. His eyes go wide as my father slips a gun into my hand.

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