Page 6 of Hateful Vows

FOUR

DANTE

I haven’t made any progress with finding my father’s killer in the past week, and it’s all I can think about as I look at the expansive old stone mansion overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

I never visited Kalliste Island before, but one could get used to these types of views, hills atop an azure sea and mountains with the summits tipped in snow even in the middle of May.

Fairy-lights dance in the trees of the luscious garden, which is crawling with every fucking representative of the most prominent European crime families.

“Signore Ventura, my condolences for your father,” Alana Moretti, the mafia heir of the island and host of the evening, says after she greets Tino and I.

Her sumptuous forest green dress matches the three-piece suit of her fiancé, Lisandru Pierce, whose hand is clasped on her waist like he can’t stand the idea of letting her go.

They both look like royals surrounded by the plebs, planting seeds of agreements and new alliances like matchmakers.

Their engagement party on Kalliste Island is the event of the decade, and probably the biggest marriage grounds for the European crime syndicates.

“Thank you for saying it, bella ,” I kiss the back of her hand, relishing the dark look Lisandru sends me. What can I say? I like to live dangerously.

We converse politely about their drug trade, and I offer expansion in my territory in London.

They move on to other guests, leaving me at the bar to savour fresh oysters and French creations I can barely pronounce.

The crisp rosé I chose hits my tongue like the most delicious ambrosia, warming me up from the inside out.

The people of this island truly know their wines.

I take the opportunity of a moment alone to peruse the crowd, while Tino scans the crowd for danger like a guard dog.

Everyone is dressed to the nines in delicate designer clothing that would look better on my bedroom floor. I’m not picky with my partners as long as they let me use them, cherish them for a few hours and forget I even exist when we’re done.

“Someone’s coming,” my best friend says under his breath when he approaches me again, but his tone betrays the unwelcome nature of the visitor. After all, a few people here tonight are some I have personal feuds with, or decades of rivalry.

I look to my left and a wide grin spreads across my face.

“Aleksei Dobrev,” I greet. “Came here to find yourself a wife? You’re a little old but I’m sure some unwitting virgin girl will make do with her eyes closed.

” My tone is jovial but I throw a glance at Tino, who signals with his hands that Dobrev’s carrying knives at his ankles.

Guns were prohibited by our gracious hosts.

I file the knowledge for later that Dobrev doesn’t mind bending the rules.

He ignores my man and I look around, searching for his little shadow, not seeing her anywhere.

“I’m the same age as you, Ventura.”

What a boring retort. I was hoping to spar. Then I remember that rumour has it Aleksei Dobrev doesn’t even have a tongue. Which he just proved wrong. I could win a few bets with that knowledge. Petty ones but I never pretended to be noble.

I take him in. I might have an inch or two on the bastard but he’s athletic enough under his tailored anthracite suit.

His spider throat tattoo—said to be the last thing his enemies see before he slashes their throat and lets them die in a pool of their own blood—is enough to evoke violence and retribution.

The brutal scars at the corner of his mouth and eye tell the stories of this life, one where it’s killed or be killed.

I wonder how he got them. He doesn’t even try to hide anything he is with how cropped his brown hair is.

He could totally be my type if I didn’t want to throttle him with my bare hands.

“Came here to fuck your way into new deals, then?”

“I have no interest in wasting time or energy to do such an untoward thing, Ventura. I’m not like you.”

“So proper,” I snort. “You’re missing out.”

Silence descends in between us. Soft jazz music from the live band drifts from the front of the mansion, the slowly setting sun throwing shadows on his face until he could be mistaken for a demon from hell. The look works for him.

Dobrev makes no movement. No discomfort shows on his angular features.

I roll my eyes. “Let’s get this over with, cazzo . What do you want?”

He glances at Tino and I nod for him to leave us alone. He doesn’t go far but the distance allows us privacy. I’d be lying if I said I’m not hanging on to Dobrev’s mouth. Curiosity is a sin, my father used to say, but I’ve been a sinner all my life.

“I need your help,” Dobrev says.

My eyes round, shock spreading through my system, before I narrow them at him.

“I’d never fucking help the likes of you. Or do you forget that your father killed my aunt and uncle and would have continued to murder my entire family if it wasn’t for the peace the Cosa Nostra agreed to with him.”

“A peace that benefitted both parties.”

“A peace you didn’t fucking deserve,” I seethe. “Get the fuck out of my face before you lose a limb.”

My threat doesn’t register and Dobrev takes a few steps forward.

In my periphery, Tino’s muscles lock up, ready to strike.

It wouldn’t be very polite while this event is supposed to be about peace.

I give him a shake of my head, curious about Dobrev’s issue.

I’m not gonna let the opportunity to own him go.

This close, Aleksei’s mismatched eyes shimmer with specks of gold.

But what’s really striking is how pale he looks and how sunken his eyes truly are.

Like he hasn’t slept in days. Even his white crisp shirt is a little dishevelled, which I know for a fact is not like him.

He’s always put together at the gala and fundraisers we frequent.

Unfortunately for us, the London underworld is small and we’re always gravitating towards the same deals, though his family prefers weapons and drugs, and mine deals in real estate, fame and power.

“War is coming,” he says.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t be so cryptic. Speak plain English, motherfucker, or I swear the next word out of your mouth will be begging for me to stop punching you.”

His nose wrinkles, but he obeys. And fuck if that doesn’t send warmth all over my insides.

“Our Pakhan has a new… venture .” He says the word like it’s an insult. “One I want no part of.”

“What could be worse than the drugs you almost inject yourself into the arms of thousands of people?”

“Skin.”

My skin breaks out in hives. “Fuck. This is bad for business. If people disappear, the cops are gonna be all up in our asses.”

“There’s more.”

I wait with bated breath, ants crawling up my neck at the perspective of another disgusting revelation. Skin trade is not only bad for business, it’s the one thing even the darkest souls of this wretched life barely dare venture into.

“Out with it, cazzo .”

The collected Russian in front of me pulls at the lapels of his jacket before touching the scar at the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

His armour breaks ever so slightly and dread sinks underneath my skin like a disease.

If even that man, who I believe doesn’t even know what emotions are, is rattled, we’re all fucked.

“Petrov wants Irina. And he won’t stop there. He’ll come for all young women in the main families. A way to own us all. I’m pretty sure he has his eyes set on Lucie, too,” he says and my blood turns cold.

“Are you threatening my family?” I explode, grabbing his suit until our faces are so close our breaths mingle.

My cousin has lived in France with extended relatives since my aunt and uncle died. We’ve done everything we could to protect her and I’ll keep doing it even if that’s the last thing I fucking do. Fuck avenging my father, she’s my priority.

“The agreement with the Cosa Nostra kept us all safe, but I guarantee you, Misha Petrov doesn’t care about agreements and noble sentiment,” Dobrev continues.

“She’s young, untouched, and sheltered. Misha’s favourite type.

Previous deals made decades ago are about to be null and void if we don’t stop him. ”

My voice drops low and menacing. “If you touch a single hair on her head…”

“I will have to when I marry her,” he simply declares.

That’s fucking it. I pull my fist and punch the bastard. People around us gasp, but they don’t intervene. Even on this neutral ground, people know not to get involved in each other’s private business.

To his credit, Dobrev simply grunts, his tongue darting out to lick the small bead of blood on his lip. I track the movement, knuckles clenching at my sides.

“I want you to marry Irina,” he says.

“The viper? Over my fucking dead body.”

“You just became kingpin. You need an heir. And Irina needs protection. Just like Lucie does. Fuck, I’ll vow to never touch her, give you half of our fucking territory and our income, but I can’t protect her by myself, Dante.”

His words come out fast, desperate. My name is both a plea and a wound on his lips.

His eyes are hard; he’s not gonna let that go.

I might be his first option but if I don’t take the deal he offers, I’m sure he’ll go to someone else.

I don’t know what it is about seeing Aleksei Dobrev weak and pliant before me, but it has nothing to do with power and revenge.

I take a step back and he straightens up, the image of power and honour back in front of me. I’m taken aback by my reaction to him, and immediately mask it with a mocking smirk.

“You’d give me your sister on a silver platter, as well as half your business just to protect her?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No other questions asked. I regard him from head to toe. Under the harsh exterior, Aleksei Dobrev has a heart, after all. One I’m going to possess and add to my little oddities collection.

Out of nowhere, a laugh bubbles up my throat. And then it grows until I throw my head back, drawing the concerned gaze of onlookers.

“You’re not sound of mind,” Aleksei comments.

“You aren’t either, Dobrev. Our families have been at odds or at war for decades, yet you propose that I marry your sister and you marry my cousin, linking us forever. And in the process, give me half your income? That’s just crazy. I doubt it’s gonna go well with your father.”

“I’m gonna kill my father.”

My laughter dies in my throat before blood lust takes over, spreading into my blood stream like a delicious hit of the smoothest whiskey. The smile that pulls at my lips is unhinged this time, reflected into Aleksei’s umber and green eyes.

“Now, we’re talking. Tell me all about it, pretty boy.”