Page 12 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

VUKAN

NOT ALL brOTHERS BLEED FOR YOU

I wake up wondering what Bianca is doing today. I’m sure she’s waiting for a text. I’m letting her sweat it out. It will keep her thinking of me. One way to win is to get in her head.

Just like she’s in mine.

But the happiness I’m experiencing on this bright morning sours as soon as I see Radovan, the shell of a man, waiting for me in the shadows.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

He leans against the back wall of the training compound with a cigarette burning low between two knuckles.

His eyes are sharp beneath the swirling hood of smoke.

He’s been here a while, waiting and scheming.

That’s how he likes to operate—just out of reach, close enough to be a threat, but not enough to draw blood.

Yet.

I don’t trust him. I never did.

My younger brother, David, falls in behind me without a word.

David is loyal, intelligent, and steadfast. He’s well, unshakable.

And hell, he’s family. Not the kind you tolerate, the kind you can’t wait to see again.

He’s not ruthless like me, and that endears him to me even more.

I’m relieved that one man in the family isn’t a soulless bastard.

He’s the type of man who rolls with the punches, and there have been many. He’s one of the few men I trust right now. He stays posted near the door—casual but watchful. But if needed, he’d draw the gun he always has in his clip.

I toss my towel over the chair and speak without looking at Radovan. Making him wait lessens his power, so I generally ignore him as long as possible.

“You could’ve called,” I say, annoyed that he’s my least favorite person and yet he’s here, in my face.

“You wouldn’t answer.”

He’s right. I wouldn’t.

I start unwrapping the tape from my fists. “You’re getting good at showing up when you're least wanted.”

“You’re getting good at disappointing the men who built you.”

That earns him a scathing look. What the fuck?

“I built it myself.” The nerve of this piece of shit. He’s young and has never experienced what it’s like to work his way up from nothing.

He takes a slow drag. “You aligned with the Italians. That’s dangerous. Are you marrying that Borrelli woman?”

I see his point. He’s predictable. Of course, he’d made an issue of my marrying the gorgeous Italian. I anticipated pushback from my men. And of all the men under me, Radovan and my uncle are two I knew would give me grief.

And the saddest part is that they’re not even loyal to their beliefs. They change their opinions with the wind, as if they don’t even know how hypocritical they are.

They’ll pull at any thread to unravel me. But they know it won’t be easy. And now, their goal is to unseat me, which is a polite way of signing my death warrant.

“I claimed her,” I growl .

He scoffs. “So this is what it’s about now? A crown jewel for your empire? Eye candy? I thought you would marry one of our own.”

He sucks on the cigarette hanging from his mouth. He reeks of liquor and smoke.

“No,” I say. “It’s about making sure we don’t choke on the memory of men who died trying to hold on to power they didn’t understand. And the rules they broke that rained hellfire on us.”

He blows a smoke ring in the warm air, and his jaw clenches. I know the name that sits just behind his teeth. The name he won’t speak, but one he applauds.

Milo?.

My brother. My blood. The former leader of our syndicate.

The man who got himself killed by touching a woman he shouldn’t have touched—a woman under the Borellis’ protection.

Milo? was a man who failed to follow the rules. Not that I’m surprised. He had a checkered past. Even as kids, I knew he’d be the death of us.

Radovan takes a step toward me. “You think marrying that Italian girl will keep your empire safe, clean?” His voice is low, meant only for me.

I smile slowly and darkly. His days are numbered. He’ll always be a part of the problem and never a part of the solution.

“She’s not a cleaning agent. She’s the fire. And I’m the man who gets to walk through it.”

His narrowed stare cuts to me. If this weren’t so serious, it would be laughable. But he doesn’t speak.

Because he knows I’m already too far gone and that soon, his blood will be on my hands.

He’d rather stand there and complain, making issues out of non-issues. He’s not a warrior like her.

Bianca Borrelli is not just an impressive woman.

She’s a hurricane with eyes that shoot daggers.

I still remember how she looked when she walked into that warehouse dressed for war.

I remember her scent—apples and something darker.

The way her mouth curves when she’s about to say something lethal.

She’s the type of woman who cuts without a knife.

And damn if I haven’t been obsessed for her ever since.

Fucking hell, she bruised my ribs yesterday in the ring and I let her.

I iced them to reduce the swelling, and I was smiling the entire time.

Damn, she’s a helluva woman. And Radovan can go fuck himself. He’s not worthy of saying her name.

He doesn’t understand how the game is played. He’ll never accept the fact that alliances and backroom deals are where business deals are made. It’s a club of men who can change the world with the brush of a pen. He’ll never see what I’m building or understand my actions.

He’s too wrapped up in loyalty to dead men. He’s less of a person because he’s living in the past. I should know. I’ve lived in the past, and nothing good comes of it.

It’s a place I know well because I dwelt in it for too long. I know from personal experience what loss and regret do to a man. Those who can’t move forward are eventually lost to us. Perhaps that’s why I knew Bianca was the woman for me.

She knows this world, what it costs, and what’s at stake to keep it. She knows what it takes to protect her family, and she rushed into it head-on. She’s not afraid to bleed for it, and that’s admirable.

I’m not stupid. I saw something good walk into my life. And in that moment, I knew God had sent me a way to pull myself out of hell. Bianca makes me want to be a better man. When I looked at her, I saw light, not darkness, and that doesn’t happen to men like me.

But a wise man reaches out and takes the light. At times, it’s the only thing that keeps us in this world, for without it, we’d all have black souls and be entirely unredeemable.

But Radovan continues to talk, ruining my day, and generally sucking the life out of me.

“This isn’t an alliance. You love her,” he says finally. “You’re weak. And it’ll be the reason we will bury you beside the brother you murdered.”

I ignore the dig. He’s jealous. Jealous of my position, my power, and my woman. As for my brother? I don’t want to lie, but I can omit facts. He had to go, one way or another, before he took us all down with him.

I expected him to process the fact that I might have a hand in my brother’s death. Hell, history has been built on greed and betrayal.

I tell myself he’ll come around to the new alliance. And I reason to myself that he’s jealous and only wishes he could obtain a woman like Bianca.

Because no man in the city would pass up a chance to be near her, especially when men lined up for a glimpse of her, knowing that she would never notice them, yet they stopped to admire her just the same.

And they long for her.

I step closer to him. I’m close enough for him to smell the blood still drying on my skin.

“What do you expect to gain? You can’t scare me.”

He tosses his cigarette, grinds it on the floor between us, and walks out without another word.

And I let him.

Because I need him to hang himself on his words, because they’ll eventually lead to actions, and he’ll give me a justified reason to take him out. I can’t break any more rules with the men still reeling when I assumed control of the empire.

They need to respect me with the right amount of fear. He and my uncle need to fall in line .

I’m watching him go, wondering if the noose will tighten around me or Bianca first.

I return to finish my workout and make business calls. Later, while sipping rakija at my palatial estate, I receive a message from Dragan—my younger brother from the streets, not blood, but closer than most family.

Radovan’s talking. Saying you hung Milo? out to die. And you did it for a woman, the Italian girl.

This is interesting. I need eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing has changed. Every influential leader knows others are waiting for the opportunity to knock them off the throne.

I know Radovan is trying to plant doubt. I expected as much from the lowlife. He’s low-key and working on the rough fringes, but I know it will grow. How far that circle of rebellion will become is anyone’s guess.

Now Dragan can get away with more than the other men I command, because he’s a trusted advisor and I need him to give me the facts and his opinions. Most men tell me what they think I want to hear. And that’s a recipe for disaster.

I stare at my phone screen. I run my hand over my clenched jaw. My heart is pounding slowly like the calm before a bullet cuts the air.

I’ve got ten dates to make Bianca fall. Nine nights to make her submit to me. Nine nights to become engaged.

Radovan is an inconvenience—a dangerous one. I have to clean my house because he’s not just dangerous to me, he’s dangerous to her.

And I will protect her no matter what the cost. I don’t care if it starts a war?—

If he so much as breathes her name again… he dies.

Because I have bigger things to deal with, like the ten dates I’m about to turn into a lifetime. The only woman on my mind is Bianca. And one day soon, it will be my name, she screams when she comes undone.

Because she’s mine.

I fall asleep with salacious thoughts of making love to her. And when I pleasure myself, it’s her I see.