Page 4 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

BIANCA

THE PRICE FOR PEACE

I pull up to my brother’s mansion. It’s more like a castle, with concrete, steel, and turrets.

I love the gargoyles perched on top. The structure is right out of a Scottish romance set on the Moors.

Of course, there are no cliffs here, but the numerous turrets stand out like punctuation marks against the low-lying clouds. It’s raining, which is fitting.

It’s been a busy year, with the new Borrelli Hotel opening and the take down of our nemesis, Stefano Moretti.

Who knows what the fuck my family is up to now. I would be more concerned about being summoned if we were still at war. But we’re not. So what gives?

I drive past the expensive vehicles in the driveway and park near the enormous front door. Thunder rolls overhead, and I know it will rain any minute. I get out, and lightning cracks ominously, causing me to jump. I run to the huge porch and quickly open the door.

Once I enter, my heels click on the Italian tiles. I confidently walk down the painted hallways with sconces on the walls. Alena has done an incredible job of decorating the place. She used warm colors on the walls and strategically placed Persian rugs to make the rooms inviting.

Matteo was adamant that I indulge his request for today’s meeting. He’s not offering dinner, which means it’s all business.

Inside, I burn. I’m pissed that they cut Vukan in on the Moretti takedown and they didn’t bother to tell me.

I enter Matteo’s office. My eight-hundred-dollar red-bottom shoes make a calculated echo as I walk.

My red satin blouse is sharp enough to bleed if anyone touches it. My hair is pinned up, and my makeup is precise. Every inch of me screams control.

They can’t force me to do anything, but I’m curious. I enter the large room, which smells of leather, expensive cologne, and arrogance.

Matteo, head of the family, stands over the massive desk, his fingers pressed onto the mahogany surface—his expression carved from marble.

Today, their faces tell me they want something from me because my brothers flank him with their silence and complicity.

And me?

I'm the storm they think they can leash. I remain standing, bracing myself for what? I have no clue.

Matteo meets my gaze. “There’s no easy way to say this,” he starts.

“Say what?” My eyes narrow.

Why the fuck is he being so dramatic?

“Just spit it out. What do you want?” I demand.

He meets my gaze and says, “You have to marry Vukan Petrovi?.”

There are no pleasantries or explanations. He just jumps right into the tactical aspect at the top of the day’s agenda.

“You want to say that again?” I cross my arms defiantly.

Matteo doesn’t flinch. “You heard me. Vukan Petrovi?.”

The name hits like a punch to the gut—the Serbian.

The man with steely gray eyes and salt and pepper hair. He’s older than me, much older— too old.

The man, who is brutal grace and quiet power. The man who surprised me when I was in the process of saving Amara’s grandmother.

His voice was like smoke. It engulfed me and made me weak in the knees. I saw something in his eyes when he looked at me through the night’s chaos.

We saw each other. And that scared the hell out of me.

“So I’m a bargaining chip now? A walking peace treaty with heels?”

“You’re a Borrelli,” Matteo says. “And this family needs peace. You know that.”

I do. But I’ve never bowed for it. And I sure as hell won’t start now.

Then, I eye my three brothers, each with a hesitant look. I let the silence stretch as I pace, thinking.

After a moment, I stop before Matteo’s massive desk and look him dead in the eye.

“Fine.”

His eyebrows relax, and he blinks. “Fine?” He straightens, thinking his work is done.

I nod once. “I’ll marry him,” I smirk.

The room is still. It’s a stillness I’ve never felt. It’s as if all the oxygen has been sucked out with a straw.

My brothers want to auction me off to the Serb who turned on his brother, so be it. Two can play this game.

This isn’t happening. They will think it is, but it’s not. I’m impervious to men—especially foreigners with an attitude.

“That’s great, Bianca,” Pietro says, giving me a side-eye, and he’s right to be leery.

I remember staring at Vukan after the gunpowder settled. The lust in his eyes was mind-numbing. He’s got it bad for me .

Well, we’re never happening. I’m a fortress, he’ll never bring me down.

“If—” I hold a finger up, sharp as glass and twice as deadly. “He can make me fall in love.”

Matteo narrows his eyes.

Niccoló groans. Pietro mutters something under his breath.

“Ten dates,” I say. “That’s the deal. Ten chances to win me over. Five for him, five for me. If he fails, I walk. No second chances.”

I cross my arms defiantly and flick my green eyes in Matteo’s direction. He looks like a Celestial Goldfish as his mouth opens and shuts. He wants to argue. But he doesn’t.

Pietro breaks the silence. “She’s a part of the family’s leadership and deserves a voice. I mean, she acted on Amara’s behalf and fought with us.” He shrugs.

No one can question my loyalty to the family. Hell, I’m the equivalent of two men in battle.

I glance at Renalto. We all know his wedding would have never happened without me.

“I can’t complain. She saved my wife,” he says. “We’re indebted to her for saving our asses.” He walks casually to the glass doors that lead to a courtyard. He turns, as if he’s in the army, minus the heels tapping. “We’re at Bianca’s mercy because the Serb won’t take no for an answer.”

The room is stilled, because everyone here knows there’s no retreating once I draw a line.

“I think she has us over the barrel, and she knows it,” Niccoló smirks.

Everyone reverts their attention to Matteo.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns me, straightening his back.

Leave it to my oldest brother to tell me I’m likely to fail, like I didn’t have a father who said that to me daily. I will never tolerate that again.

And perhaps that’s why I’ve never fallen in love .

Because I can’t trust anyone.

“Then he’d better learn not to burn,” I snark.

Matteo is overly cautious, and today, he’s just a fucking killjoy. But his confidence works in my favor.

I’ll show them. I’ll show them all. I’m not giving Vukan my future.

I don’t think I’m capable of love. I’m broken and probably damaged beyond repair. Besides, love makes women weak and vulnerable.

Men can’t be trusted to show up, they say things they don’t mean, and more often than not, they are arrogant pricks, expecting me to drop my panties just because they paid for dinner.

But I’ll break Vukan. I know how powerful babies can be. No man wants to be stuck in a room with snotty noses and sticky fingers. I will take him on five dates that will repel him like bug spray.

After one or two dates, he’ll call off this absurd engagement.

“He’s a hard man. Do you really want to do this?” Matteo asks, for a second time, as our eyes lock.

If he thinks I’m changing my mind, he’d better be prepared to wait for hell to freeze over.

“Absolutely.” I smile. I will crush their silly notion of an arranged marriage. If they thought I’d concede because they mapped my future out for me, they can think again because Vukan Petrovi? can kiss my ass.

Let the games begin.

I swoop out of the mansion without looking back, leaving my brothers worrying about the outcome. Maybe they will think twice before they cut me out of the loop again.

It’s still raining when I hit the highway, and now, I’m driving on wet roads. Traffic is at a standstill when Amara calls.

“Bianca, I heard about the meeting. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

“I know what it’s like. I mean, you were bartered for me. You saved me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The last thing I want is for Amara to feel indebted to me. She adores my brother, and she’s pregnant. She survived years of her father’s abuse. She deserves to be happy.

I’m sure Matteo did what he had to do. But I’m still pissed.

Couldn’t he have offered Vukan a territory?

Probably.

We barter deals or territories to avoid wars. What makes this negotiation different? Why the hell did they barter me?

They owe a favor, they said. Did Vukan know all along he would order me to his bed, knowing he’s shackling me to his life?

If so, he gave up a ton to ensure my future was tied to his.

He’s not stupid, for Christ’s sake. He knows exactly what he wants—men like him do. I should know, I have four brothers just like him. And I know that when they think ahead, they plan and plot.

“Well, we women have to stick together, so what’s going on? How are you getting out of it?”

“I’m offering him ten dates. We both get five. I intend to scare the shit out of him.”

“He’s pretty scary. I was there that night, and he scared the bejesus out of me. But…”

“But what?”

“I saw his face soften when he looked at you.”

“I’m sure it was the dim lighting.” I mean, how could he possibly see me? Besides, I’m not important. I’m sure he had other things on his mind, like survival.

“Maybe,” she agrees slowly. “So what do you have planned? How are you going to scare a man who comes from a world we know nothing about? He’s Serbian, and their country is nothing like ours.”

“We have things in common,” I say, deadpan. I mean, he is from a civilized country. And we’re both in organized crime, so there’s that.

“Like what?” She asks.

“Our families are in the same business, for starters. I mean, we all know what that’s like.”

“There is that,” she chuckles. She knows all too well what our families do and what they are capable of doing. I’m sure Amara counts her lucky stars that Pietro saved her from having to marry the Serbian, but now, I’m in the hot seat.

Fuck.

I can’t hate her for following her heart. I admire her for it.

She’s a sweetheart, and I love her. And soon, she’ll officially be a part of our family.

“I’ll figure it out as I go. I’m not worried. He might look scary, but I can hold my own.”

“Well, I’m here for you if you need anything. You had my back, and my Grandmother is doing great.”

Her grandmother is one lucky woman to have Amara. Amara put her life in danger to protect her. Neither of us thought we’d leave the warehouse alive that night. There’s nothing like a shootout to drive home the fact that our world has a very dark underbelly.

“I’m so happy to hear that. Have you told her about the baby yet? I’m sure she’s tickled.”

“I’m waiting until after our wedding, she’s old school.”

“Gotcha. I can’t wait for you two to tie the knot. What kind of wedding do you want?”

“I’m not sure, after you told me about Abigail’s, I think we should elope. It might be safer. I mean, the Borrelli curse is alive and well.”

“Well, I’d love to be your bridesmaid.” The fucking curse. Thank god I saved Abigail when Vivian held a dagger at her throat. Talk about a dark wedding.

It’s funny that she mentioned the Borrelli curse. I wasn’t a believer of it, but it just so happens that my brother’s women have all been attacked after they fell in love with them. I’ve always dismissed the curse because it applies to them, not me.

Right?

Actually, I’ve never even considered the possibility that it could apply to me.

“Well, I’ll figure it out soon enough. We need to get together soon. I miss you!” she says, interrupting my black thoughts.

“I miss you, too.” Then, changing the subject, “You must come see my new condo.”

As much as I love my new home, I’m stumped on what to put in it. It has the bare necessities. Alena has offered to help me decorate it, but I wanted to get a feel for the space before deciding what to do.

Maybe I have difficulty with commitments. The thought of a colored wall and permanency makes me nervous.

“I will. Let me know when! I gotta go, but we’ll talk soon. You need to check in, y’know,” she says, “we’re strict about that!”

I chuckle. She’s throwing my line back at me. Amara is the sister I never knew I needed.

“You got it.” I ring off.

She’s happy, which means the world to me. And I know I will be too… eventually.

My life has always revolved around my family—except for the two years I spent studying the ‘other arts’ in Switzerland.

My training was meant to help the family. I excel at languages, weapons, and martial arts. I translate foreign contracts for Matteo and help with negotiations as needed, but it’s not a full-time job .

I had friends, but they all ended abruptly when training ended, leaving me isolated.

So I returned to my family but still haven’t figured out what to do with myself.

Currently, I’m learning about New York. Life has its challenges. I suppose what doesn’t break us makes us stronger. I hate it when my elders say that, but perhaps it’s true.

We might have had a dysfunctional family, but somehow, it brought us closer. Over the years, we continued to choose each other and formed a tight-knit family. We prioritized each other above everything else.

I’m a perfectionist, and I always strive to accomplish the next goal on my bucket list. I’m a decisive person in nature. I always knew what I wanted in the past, but I’m unsure now.

I’m starting over in a new city, and the showdown with our enemies didn’t help, but personally? In a day-to-day situation? I’ve been fucked up since I had a first hand view of the violence our world brings.

I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life. But I’m floundering, unsure of what I have to offer the world.

Joanne, my bestie, has found her calling in life. I’m envious of that. She has found what she loves to do, and she helps others in the process. Me? I’m just lost.

I might not know much, but I want a life with purpose—a life that impacts the world.

I don’t want to live off my family’s money that I didn’t earn. And I don’t want to live off a husband’s money, either. I mean, who knows whom I’ll marry?

Law school is the logical step, but I’m restless and undecided.

Now I’ve been informed that I’m supposed to marry the leader of the Serbian criminal organization, my life is up in the air again.

I seriously doubt Vukan would allow his wife to work.

Why am I even considering him in my future ?

I’m going to squash this engagement in record time.

I’m Bianca Borrelli, and I don’t lose.