Page 2 of Vow to Corrupt You (Gods of Corruption #1)

Serena

“The Romanos convoy has just arrived,” Papà says dryly, peeking out of the window.

A chilling frost creeps across my skin as I step closer to get a glimpse, too. So do my sisters, Gianna and Valeria. We glance from behind the curtains, all three of us. It must look hilarious, but nothing about it is. In fact, our lives depend on that meeting.

My gaze follows seven identical black G-Class SUVs, one by one, as they drive through the steely gate my father left open. I want to see him— Nikolaos Romano , the most ruthless Mafia Don I’ve ever heard of.

Capo di tutti capi.

The boss of all bosses.

I assume he’d be in one of the cars driving in the middle, but all the windows are tinted, so I cannot see.

My heart is pounding in my chest as the vehicles stop.

At least a dozen men, all dressed the same in black suits and with earpieces, surround one of the cars.

All assume the same position, their legs slightly spread and their hands folded neatly.

Undoubtedly, they must’ve trained that. Their movements are too smooth, too practiced.

They stand as if soldiers at attention, waiting for their general’s command.

Or more like a horde of the undead waiting for their dark king to lead them into battle.

Another identically looking man steps out of the front passenger door, surrounded by the others.

He circles to the other side and opens the back door.

A man in his fifties steps out of the vehicle, the ashen hue of his neatly combed hair reflected in the fine fabric of his tailored suit.

I look closer and recognize the man. It’s Dimitris—Nikos’s consigliere and the only man he respects.

I’ve encountered Dimitris a few times as he’s a friend of my father’s, though I don’t know him well because Papà keeps this part of his life separate from us.

For our safety, or so he claims. My father has been involved with the mafia since I was a child, but he’s always kept us out of it—well, as much as he could keep us sheltered from it.

I do know, however, who Dimitris is and his position.

Living in a town owned by the Romanos’ syndicate, it’s impossible not to know of them.

“Get away from the window!” Caterina, my stepmother, reprimands us in a semi-shout, waving her slim hand at us so we get in line before I can see Nikos leaving the car.

My sisters and I stand by the wall opposite the entrance of our living room.

It reminds me of the mafia men creating an array outside like the horde of the undead.

Today, I feel like that—like I’m a mere creature whose life means nothing in the face of the formidable Nikos Romano.

I hate that man before I even meet him. He’s the reason we’re here today, like horses on display.

Except he doesn’t have to bid to get one.

Apparently, he already owns one of us, but it’s just a matter of who.

I tense up as I hear the main door open.

Our maid, Ottavia, greets the men in the foyer, her voice trembling like that of a child lost in the crowd.

Then, their approaching footsteps echo through the hallway; with each one of them, my heart pounds faster.

Before he enters the living room, my gaze immediately falls to the ground.

I do not have the courage to look at him because I feel threatened by his mere presence.

My heart just won’t stop rumbling; it races with such force it could tear apart my rib cage.

“Mr. Romano, it’s an honor to meet you,” Caterina’s voice quakes.

“Mr. Romano,” my father adds in a tone of respect despite his resentment for this man.

I know how much he despises him because I loathe him just as much. He wanted to kill my twin brother. Now he keeps him hostage, and God knows what kind of torture he’s putting him through.

“Lucio. Caterina,” Nikos says darkly. His voice is low and husky, like the quiet warning growl of a wolf.

I dare to cast my eyes upward, though timidly, carefully, as if meeting his gaze would lead to a death sentence.

His glare is fixed on my father now, and I feel relieved he’s not looking at me.

I was scared he would. But now that I know he doesn’t, I cannot help but stare at him, take him all in.

He’s tall, much taller than the four men standing behind him, two on each side.

Two of them, two steps behind, then another two, four steps behind.

The ones who stand right behind Nikos look different—in tailored suits and older than the rest, probably in their fifties.

One of them, on his right, is his uncle, Dimitris.

Two of the men must be Nikos’s bodyguards.

They look the same, in identical black suits, with earpieces, and holding guns in their hands.

Their gazes fixed on a distant point before them, straight postures like statues.

My gaze shifts back to Nikos. He stands out among the men.

His hands clasped behind his back accentuate his V-shaped figure.

The contours of his muscles seem to strain against the fabric of his sleek black suit as if eager to burst free.

His black stubble enhances his perfectly sharp jawline.

A few unruly strands of his raven black hair cascade over the left side of his sun-kissed skin.

What they say is true. He does look like a Greek god.

Except he looks like Hades, God of the Dead.

“Mr. Romano, please meet my daughters,” Papà says with a gloomy tone.

Nikos’s gaze sweeps across the room and lands on me.

The moment it does, it feels like I’ve looked into the pitch-black eyes of death.

Like my whole life is flashing before me—just as people say it does when you’re about to die.

As if everything is ending right now, in this very moment, in the depths of his dangerous gaze.

Did I say he looks like a Greek god? I take it back. He looks like darkness with unsettling madness in his eyes. The kind that would make Hades himself bow down to him.

“This is my oldest, Valeria, my middle Gianna,” Papà says, though Valeria and Gianna aren’t really his daughters.

Both are the daughters of his wife from her previous marriage, but my Papà treats them as his own.

Can’t say the same about my stepmother when it comes to my twin brother and me; she’s never treated us as her own.

My father married Caterina when Valeria was ten, Gianna eight, and Salvatore and I were six at the time.

It had been just a year after my parents divorced and my mother abandoned us.

She left us with our father without even asking whether we wanted to stay with him or go with her.

From what I know, she went back to her home country and started a new family there with her first love—the main reason she abandoned us for.

“Welcome, Mr. Romano,” my oldest stepsister speaks with a sultry voice that would turn any man’s head, but Nikos’s gaze never leaves mine.

“It’s a pleasure. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person.

” Valeria reaches her hand toward Nikos as she steps forward, swaying her hips as she does.

She puts forth her most seductive moves, and a flirtatious smile never leaves her face, but Nikos ignores her hand.

Heck, he completely ignores her —his gaze lingers on me—and even though I want to look away, I find myself unable to. As if invisible chains have wrapped around me, holding me in place.

Valeria’s smile slowly fades as she realizes his eyes are stuck on me. As a matter of fact, everyone in the room seems to realize that because, as if in sync, they all follow his stare and look at me .

Yesterday, after the meeting Papà had with Nikos, he told us about the deal they made—one of us in exchange for Salvatore’s life.

While Gianna and I were shattered by that revelation, Valeria was not.

On the contrary, she was elated. My oldest stepsister has always dreamed of the opulent lifestyle, the sway over others, and the influence that being married to a wealthy man can bring.

Her desires were never for love, but for luxury.

So when our father informed us about the deal he’d made with someone as powerful as Nikos Romano, she couldn’t miss the chance to snag a golden ticket to the world she never thought would be within reach.

She didn’t want to marry Nikos out of the kindness of her heart (which she lacks, I might add), and she didn’t think of saving Salvatore, who meant as little to her as I did.

Despite the fact that we grew up together, Valeria never regarded us as her family.

Her agreeing to be the sacrificial lamb was solely for her to secure her position in society.

Though as long as her ‘sacrifice’ saves my brother, I will be grateful until the end of my days.

So before the Romanos arrived today, Caterina informed Gianna and me to dress modestly and not speak a word unless completely necessary so that we wouldn’t outshine Valeria.

Valeria, in contrast, is wearing a low-cut, burgundy silk dress with thin straps, and a pearl necklace completes the look.

Not that she needs any of that. Valeria is the most beautiful of us all.

The dress and the jewelry merely enhance her natural beauty.

She’s as gorgeous as her mother. Her breathtaking, big blue eyes contrast with her tanned skin and sleek black hair that reaches her waist. Coupled with her enviable hourglass figure, I look like a wisp next to her.

Then why do Nikos’s eyes not leave mine?

I feel his piercing gaze on me the entire time. It’s intimidating. Actually, terrifying.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, and I can’t breathe again. I feel like I’m suffocating. He is suffocating. The danger he emanates, the intensity of his stare, everything about him is overwhelming.

Suddenly, our spacious living room seems so small—too small to accommodate his commanding presence. The wooden table in the middle of the room doesn’t seem to be enough of a barrier between us. I want to run away, but at the same time, I cannot move, as if his gaze alone is holding me captive.

“Mr. Romano,” the sound of my father clearing his throat makes me twitch. He speaks hesitantly, knowing he’s treading on the thinnest of ice. “My wife and I agreed that our oldest daughter, Valeria, would be the best match for you. Valeria agrees, too. She’s eager to—”

“I want her.”

Nikos’ stern tone slices through mid-sentence like a sharp blade through soft flesh. His deadly brown eyes still on me, making me tremble.

Caterina gasps, Papà’s breath seems to halt, and Nikos…

he doesn’t even flinch. He’s as still as stone, not even a flicker of movement crossing his body.

I’m not even sure he’s breathing. Perhaps the rumors are true.

He’s dead, and the Dark Lord himself possesses his corpse.

Oh, the things people whisper about him.

But experiencing his presence firsthand.

.. that’s not even funny. I’m inclined to believe every word of it.

A sense of panic surges through me. I finally break out of the invisible chains of his stony, piercing gaze and glance at my father, whose face drains of color.

“Mr. Romano, Serena is my youngest.” Papà’s nostrils move heavily with each of his ragged breaths. “She only turned twenty-one this year, and Valeria—”

“That’s the thing, I make the rules everywhere. I want her, or you can forget about the deal—and say goodbye to Salvatore.”