Vows and Vendettas

Chapter 2

Blair

The excited, shrill screams from a room full of women are almost sharp enough to drown out the music pouring out of the speakers that are placed on either side of the stage. The man who is currently on stage is dressed as a firefighter—or he was dressed that way when he first walked out. Now, he wears nothing but a sparkly red pair of underwear that definitely doesn’t leave much to the imagination for the crowd of thirsty middle-aged women.

My face heats up when he jumps down from the stage and begins to dance his way in our direction.

Oh no.

Turning my attention to the small group of women that I came with, they all wore matching looks of mischief. I should have seen this coming, I told myself as the naked man drew closer.

Mia, Gabby, and Isabella were my closest friends. Their fathers worked for mine, which meant we had grown up attending the same parties, dinners, and family events. We knew each other because we were expected to. As a Mafia Princess, having any real friends was challenging to say the least.

“Oh my God, Blair, he's coming this way,” Gabby squeals as she grabs her phone.

The little light on the back of her phone comes on a second later. Of course she's recording. Mia brushes her jet-black hair back behind her ear after setting her plastic cup down. “Don't you dare run,” she warns. “I paid good money to have that fine a** man come rub up on you.”

My mouth falls open at her admission. Isabella is the shyest one of this little group, and she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before hiding her face with her own cup. Her face is almost as red as mine is, and she isn't about to get a lap dance from an oiled-up wall of muscles.

The naked firefighter stops directly in front of me, bends at the waist, and hauls me over his shoulder in one smooth motion. I squeal in surprise, the flimsy veil that clipped to the back of my head falling over, making it far more difficult to brush my hair from my face at this angle. All of the women in the crowd cheer in excitement as I am deposited into a folding chair in the center of the stage. If my cheeks weren't flaming f*cking red before, they sure are now as the dancer begins to give me a very enthusiastic lap dance.

The crowd erupts around me, and I cover my face with both hands.

“Oh, my God!” Gabby screams from somewhere below the stage.

“Blair, look at him!” Mia shouts.

“I am trying very hard not to!” I yell back, which only makes everyone in the crowd laugh harder.

The dancer grins as he moves around the chair, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. When he comes back around to face me, he reaches for my hand and my eyes widen as I realize what he is doing.

“Oh, no,” I whisper.

The screams of the crowd get louder as the dancer takes my hand and places it against the hard plane of his stomach before slowly guiding it downward over the ridges of his abs. My face is burning so hot I am certain I could set off the fire alarm and summon the actual fire department. Despite my mortification, a laugh bursts out of me too. The dancer points at me as if he has just won some kind of victory before he launches back into his routine. This time, I didn't spend the entire thing hiding behind my hands. I still blush. I still have absolutely no idea where to look since almost every inch of his skin is oiled up and on display. But by the time the song ends, I am laughing so hard my stomach hurts. The dancer helps me back to my feet and gives me an exaggerated bow, and the crowd erupts into applause.

“I can not believe you did that,” I said to Mia when I rejoined our table.

She smirks at me as she lifts her cup to her lips, clearly quite pleased with herself. “It’s your bachelorette party, Blair. It was money well spent.”

Lifting my own cocktail to my lips, I take a sip as we watch the rest of the show. A few more ladies are brought on stage by different dancers throughout the night. They are all far more enticed to be up there than I had been. My phone buzzes in my clutch; after pulling it out, I see that I have a text message from my fiancé, Luca.

Luca: Having fun?

Pausing before I text him back, I look around at the venue. He knows I'm having my party tonight, but he doesn't know where I'm at. And I'm not sure if I should reveal that the girls brought me to watch male dancers in their underwear.

Me: Maybe.

Luca: Well, try not to have too much fun without me.

I smile at my phone. Luca was always so sweet. He wanted to be involved in everything that I did. In the six months that we've been together and engaged, we haven't spent more than a couple of hours apart.

Me: Wouldn’t dream of it. ;)

I click the side of my phone; the screen darkens, but I don't even have a chance to put it away before another message comes through. This one isn't from Luca. This one is from my Papa.

Papa: Blair, you need to return home. Now!

Well, that’s not good. Papa never summons me home like this. He also knows what's happening tonight, so the fact that he wants me home now causes a pit to open in my belly. I fidget with my engagement ring. Spinning the band and stone around my ring finger.

“Everything okay, Blair?” Mia asks, noticing my sudden silence. She is always the observant one of our group, noticing tiny details that all of us would rather she didn't.

Clicking the side of my phone for a second time, the screen goes dark and stays dark. I lift my head and see that all three of my friends are watching me with concern written across their faces. I do my best to give them a half smile. “Papa summoned me home. I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

Gabby sighs in disappointment but nods and retrieves her purse from the back of her chair. We all know that when the Don requires your presence, you go with all due haste. Even his own daughter. We leave the show before it has even finished. I hug each of them, thanking them for doing all of this for me even though it is getting cut short.

"Call us tomorrow?" Gabby asks as she steps into her car.

"I will," I reassure her.

Depending on what is happening, it will determine on how much I can actually reveal to them. Just because their family is under mine doesn't mean that they automatically get information that is privy to how things are run. Hell, I don't even have that much knowledge of the seedy side of things that my father is involved in.

Thirty minutes later, my car pulls into the driveway. There is another car parked right in front of the house. Sleek and expensive with blacked-out windows. My gaze lifts to my home, and instead of finding darkened windows, they are all lit up. My heart hammers in my chest as I exit my car and make my way up the front steps. The door opens as soon as I am close enough. Rosa steps aside to let me enter the house. She is silent, which is abnormal for her. She has that warm grandmother feel to her, and right now, she isn't fussing over me like she would if I came home late.

She looks flustered. Like she is scared to death of something. “Rosa, what's the matter?” I ask as she helps to take my purse from me.

“Your Papa is waiting for you in his office. He asked for you to join him as soon as you arrived,” Rosa murmurs. Her voice is low, and I swear I can detect a slight tremble in it.

Well, this doesn't bode well. That I am sure of. I hurried down the hall, stopping at the large stained wooden door. Rapping my knuckles against it, I listened for Papa’s muffled ‘come in’. He sounds fine. Not angry. Not sick or anything, so why would he order me to come on tonight?

Pushing the door open, I took a couple of steps inside only to come to a stop. My hand still grasped around the handle, staring at what, or rather who, was on the other side. The scent hits me first, leather and clove. That spicy mixture is masculine and, in my slightly buzzed state, has my body warming up on its own. A familiar tall figure is lounging against the windowsill on the other side of the room as if he belongs there. Dark hair combed to perfection. A pair of intense eyes that seem to bore right down to the marrow of my bones. I would recognize the scowl on his face anywhere.

Dante Lazzari, the Mafia king of all of Langston.

That pit in my stomach that had formed when Papa messaged me grew tenfold. Dante Lazzari doesn't just make house calls in the middle of the night.

“Come in, Blair, and close the door behind you,” Papa says, his voice muffled through the sudden ringing in my ears.

The intimidating mafia king doesn’t straighten or step forward when he sees me. He just watches from where he’s leaning against the window frame, one ankle crossed over the other, arms loose at his sides. Like he’s been waiting for me to arrive. Like he already knew exactly when I’d walk through that door.

Heat flickers low in my belly, unwelcome and immediate, drowning out the panic. Damn it. I didn’t drink that much tonight, but clearly my body doesn't give a damn when there is a Mafia God standing just a few feet away eyeing me up and down. I shouldn’t feel anything for a man simply looking at me—especially not this intensely.

Especially not when I’m supposed to be marrying someone else in a month.

I do as Papa asks; I close it softly behind me. Though, to my ears, it sounded much more like a metal cell door closing and locking me in here with a man who is far too dangerous. I’ve seen him before at galas, charity events, and political dinners over the years. Always from a distance. Always surrounded by men who looked like they’d kill for him if he said so. But never like this. Never close enough to see the dimple in his cheek or the way his chest rises and falls in slow, controlled breaths.

“Sit,” Lazzari growls.

The command makes my spine stiffen as the heat in my belly transforms into irritation at the fact that this man thought that he could order me around. In my father’s house, at that. I step forward like I am going to obey him, only to stop just behind the chair. I cross my arms, lift my chin, and glare at the King of Langston.

Thank goodness I wasn't completely wasted. This would be far more challenging if there were two of him swimming in a drunken daze.

“What is this about, Papa? Why did you want to see me so late?” I asked without taking my eyes off the man at the window.

The corner of Lazzari’s mouth twitches in amusement, making that dimple pop out of its hiding spot a bit more. I rolled my eyes. I already know that whatever reason that has brought him here…to my father's office can't be good.

Papa clears his throat. “Blair… there have been some… changes… regarding the wedding.”

Now that gains my full attention. Dropping my hands, I grip the back of the leather chair in front of me; the material groans beneath my hands. “Changes? Like what? Did something happen? Luca didn’t mention anything when I talked to him earlier.”

Papa’s gaze flicks over to Lazzari, who is still standing near the window. The look on Papa’s face makes my stomach drop even farther. He looked almost elated now. And that look on the Mafia boss is not a good sign. Papa hadn’t exactly been pleased when I came home excited to share the news of my engagement. He had no idea I was seeing someone for the past six months. Let alone that it was another boss to a much smaller family.

But Luca had come into my life and literally swooped me off my feet. Saved me from being attacked that night when I slipped my guard to have a little fun for a change. He saved me and kept that night just between us. A sharp crack splits the air. I whip my head toward Lazzari. His jaw is clenched so tightly, I swear the sound I heard had to be one of his molars cracking in half. Dante Lazzari’s hatred for my fiancé is also well known in Langston. And now he is standing here, in my father's office, at the same time that Papa mentions that changes are being made to my wedding.

Fury slowly burns its way through my veins as my legs carry me in his direction. “I swear if you did anything to him…” My finger is pointing in his face, but all he does is give a half-smirk. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. Just tilts his head to the side slightly, like he is studying me. “Careful now, who you go accusing of misdeeds right now.” His voice is low, dark, and threaded with something dangerous, and it causes my body to shiver.

“Blair,” Papa says, sounding apathetic. “You need to understand that what has happened is for the best. But you won’t be marrying Luca Voss anymore.”

“Says who?” I snap at my father.

Papa’s face deepens to a dark shade of red that should be worrisome. “Your engagement to Voss is finished.”

Whatever this is, it has Dante’s meddling presence written all over it. I want to strangle the King of Langston with my bare hands for whatever his role in all of this is. I have spent my entire life doing what was expected of me. Being the perfect mafia princess. I kept my relationship with Luca private until the very end for a reason. Papa sighs like he is exasperated with the entire situation. Well, that makes two of us.

“I've changed my mind, and I won't allow it.”

“Excuse me?” My voice rises as I stare at my father. Then I laugh. Not a ha ha, that's a funny kind of laugh. No, this one sounds more manic, probably even delusional-sounding. “You aren't making any sense, Papa. The wedding is in a few weeks, you already agreed. You can’t just change your mind now."

I shake my head; my hands are shaking now, and his office is starting to feel smaller with every heartbeat. It is like the walls are slowly inching closer in. Papa stands so fast his chair scrapes the floor. His fists slam down on the desk, causing everything on top to rattle. His face is red, his ears even redder.

“I am your father. I am the head of this family, and I said you won't be marrying him. That’s final!”

I flinch at the sharpness in his tone. Papa has never raised his voice to me like that. Not once in twenty-four years has he ever yelled at me, even when I gave him plenty of reasons to do so.

“Moretti,” Lazzari hisses.

The single word drips with malice, and I don't understand why. I don't understand anything right now.

“She—” Papa starts, but stops suddenly. “Whatever è un problema tuo.” It's your funeral.

Lazzari moves quickly so that he is now standing directly behind me. So close that I can feel the slow, controlled rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his body heat seeping into me. My breath catches in my throat.

“It could be yours,” Lazzari says coldly, “if you speak to her like that ever again. Daughter or not.”

Papa’s eyes widened slightly, but he smartly chose not to speak. That's a first. I don't think I have ever seen someone tell my father to stop talking, and it didn't end with a bullet in the other person's head. But I guess being the King of Langston has its advantages. My pulse thrums in my ears when I turn to look at the man behind me. Lazzari is a good six inches taller than me, if not more. His almost black hair is gelled back away from his face. His sharp jaw was covered in a thin layer of dark scruff. But it was his eyes that stirred something inside me. A dark honey with flecks of gold that looked like they would slice my father in half.

My father huffs. “Va bene, ti occupi del resto di questo,” he snaps in Italian. Fine, you handle the rest of this.

Papa stormed out of his office, then, while I just stood there, shocked. Silence fills the space between Lazzari and me for several seconds after the door closes again. Suddenly, the air in the room thins, and my lungs struggle to keep up as a shiver dances across my skin.

“You’ll still be getting married,” Lazzari whispers, leaning in so close that his breath brushes the shell of my ear. “Just not to Voss.”

My breath hitches in my chest as I turn to face the King of Langston. I still can't believe Papa left me in here alone…with him. “If that's true, who am I marrying?”

Lazzari’s grin is lethal as it slowly spreads across his face. Those honey brown eyes hold mine, the flecks of gold catching the lamplight. My pulse pounds so violently in my chest that I'm convinced he can hear it. God, I hope he can't. Leather and clove drift between us, eclipsing the lingering scent of Papa's favorite cigar until all I can breathe is him.

Those eyes search mine for another half a second before he finally breaks the silence.

“Me,” he says simply. “You will be my wife.”

No.

No, no, no, no.

This can't be happening. It can't be real. Somewhere down the hall, the grandfather clock chimed like it was solidifying my fate. Within the span of thirty minutes, my entire future had changed with no regard for my wishes. The life I envisioned for myself was slowly disappearing into smoke right before my very eyes.

I am not marrying Dante Lazzari.

Ever.