Vow to Protect: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance

by J. L. Beck

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand. “You can’t fuck me, so you rape my cousin?”

  He glares tucking himself back into his pants before taking a menacing step forward. “She wanted it. And your father gave us permission, so go ahead and tell him you caught us together. He won’t give a shit.”

  He tests the skin on his cheek and takes another step toward me. I hold my ground and spread my arms to block his view of Rose. “You touch her again, and I’ll kill you.”

  This time, he laughs at me. A loud sniffling guffaw and then he spins around the room like it’s all a joke. “You, tiny little Valentine, think you can kill me?”

  His face becomes serious, and he pulls a black handgun from a holster under his arm. “How are you going to do that when you can’t even look at a gun?”

  He’s right. Even now, I can’t stand the sight of it. I almost throw up my toast when he pushes the barrel against my lips and forces it against my teeth. With no choice, I stand there and take it, but I look him in the eye the entire time. If he wants to shoot me, he’s going to watch the millions of dollars he would have gotten through our marriage bleed out my brain.

  Another heartbeat later, he turns away and goes back to his desk. I don’t have to say a word to Rose. We both flee from the room up to my bedroom. I lock the door and drag the heavy armoire in front of it.

  Rose is huddled on the other side of the bed, her knees against her chest and her face in the carpet.

  Tears are pouring down her cheeks, and mine, I realize as I gather her into my arms and rock her gently against my chest. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I was supposed to keep you safe, and he got to you anyway. I never thought he would touch you.”

  She doesn’t respond, and all I can do is hold her until she falls asleep. Then I grab my pillow and blanket off the bed to make her more comfortable.

  My brain is strangely empty when I go to my bedside table and pull out both the black card and my cell phone. I dial the number and hit send.

  It rings several times, and then a female voice says, “Hello?”

  I suck in a slow inhale and blow it out soft enough it’s not heard through the line. Then I say, “I’m calling to speak to Adrian, please.”

  6

  Valentina

  Rose pleads with me again, begging, and it breaks my heart. I slip the gold hoop in my earlobe and close the back, taking a moment to compose myself before we go another round.

  “All I’m saying is this is a bad idea,” she repeats for the tenth time.

  I face her and smooth my hands down the black silk bandage dress that hugs every inch of me a little too tightly. It was Rose’s, and she adjusted it for me, despite her reservations about my decision. The dress turns my lack of curves into something enticing for once. I wish I could appreciate it.

  My hands are shaking when I answer her. “I get it. But our choices are bad choice A that we’ve been living with, or bad choice B that is fresh and new and might...”

  “Be even worse?” she supplies.

  I step into the towering heels, and despite her still grumbling, she kneels at my feet and straps the buckles at my ankle. It is highly likely I’ll topple off them and make a fool of myself, but they complete the look. And tonight, I need to look like I mean business. Despite my father thinking I’m useless, I know his world, and I know how things operate. Looking the part is half the battle.

  “Do you want to spend another two weeks hiding in here, sneaking out for food when we can’t handle being hungry anymore? Because I don’t. If we can get rid of Sal, then I’m willing to take the risk. All you have to do is stay here and cover for me. Tell anyone who asks I have my period and there’s a mess all over the bathroom. It will gross anyone out enough that they won’t ask you for details.”

  She juts her chin up at me, her eyes glistening. “I just wish you didn’t have to make this choice in the first place.”

  I kneel and capture her chin in my hand. “This is not your fault. You are not to blame in any of this, so get that thought out of your head now.”

  With a sniff, she nods. “Fine. What else do you need from me?”

  I drag her to stand in a hug. “Help me out of the window and pray I don’t break my neck in these damn shoes before I can sneak off the grounds.”

  That earns me a little smile as she helps me steady myself on the way toward the window. The balcony leads out to a fire escape, so it's a matter of squeezing down a narrow flight of stairs to reach the grass below.

  It’s all too easy to reach the street, order a car, and make it to the casino address the voice on the phone had given me. I didn’t know if it had been Adrian himself, as I hadn’t spoken to him long enough to memorize his voice, but it is the only lifeline I have.

  The casino is packed. People laugh and drink as the sound of slots and bells and crowds press in on me. I squeeze through the throngs of people hunting for the side entrance. I’d heard this special side door was only for those in the society. And only society members can gain access. As I approach, I’m not quite sure if I’m a part of the society or not. I’ve never participated in any of my father’s business dealings, and the party I attended a couple of weeks ago was my first society event. I don’t have time to consider it further as a man steps in front of the door, blocking my way.

  I barely have time to slap a sultry smile on my red-painted lips before I reach him. “Hi,” I say. Smooth. Super smooth.

  The man is at least a foot taller than me, his black hair tied back into a ponytail. He narrows his eyes and jerks his thumb toward the gambling crowds. “This isn’t a place for little girls. Turn around.” His voice holds a hint of an accent that I can’t place.

  I try to give him something like a cross between sexy and serious. Even as I have to focus on not shivering under the hard edge of his stare. “I’m not a little girl, and I was invited to this party.”

  His eyes narrow, and he steps toward me. I refuse to back down, thinking of Rose and how much we need to be saved.

  “Who invited you then?” His tone says he doesn’t believe a word I’ve said.

  I dig into the small clutch I brought that holds my phone, lip gloss, and all the cash Rose and I could scrape together and produce the card. He doesn’t even look at it closely before he’s holding the door open for me. He presses a black stamp onto my hand and waves me through.

  I whisper, “Thank you,” as I pass and head down a long hallway. The rug under my feet is a rich crimson, and glittering sconces light the way. The floor tilts downward as I walk, like going down an incline before the carpet ends, and I reach a concrete floor and a barrage of shouting.

  In what looks like an open parking garage is a roped-off area. Seats are set up around it on three sides, and two men in the middle are beating on each other with their bare fists. I take a step backward, the light and comfort of the long tunnel looking a little more appealing than this…brawling.

  But then I spot him. Adrian. He’s on the far side of the ring with two other men flanking him. He’s dressed similarly to our previous meeting, except in place of the bow tie, the collar of his black shirt is open, revealing the long line of his throat.

  I focus on him now. It seems like the only safe place with blood flying from the beating in the ring. If I think about it, if I look, I’ll go to some dark places. Places I’ve visited courtesy of Sal and the video library he enjoys forcing me to watch.

  Like gravity, his gaze hits mine, and I feel it through my entire body, all the way to my sore toes. It’s like a balm. A soothing, cooling calm across my senses as we stare at each other. Yes. I felt something like this when we met. Like my entire being knows that in his presence, I’m utterly safe, and for as long as I’m with him, I can relax and let down my guard.

  He gestures at one of the men beside him, and that man skirts the ring, the mixed crowd watching the fight parting around him like they fear touching him. Then he’s beside me and gently leading me away from the ring t
oward another hallway. This one is identical to the first, and I let the man grip my elbow gently to tug me beside him. It should occur to me to ask who this man is and why he’s taking me away from Adrian, but I don’t. It’s not like I have a choice in my presence here. I signed away my choice the second I walked into the building.

  The man opens a door, tugs me into a room, and then closes the door again, leaving me alone. I stare around the space. It looks like an empty office, maybe. The furniture is deep polished wood, but nothing is on the desk or decorates the walls.

  I’m tempted to sink into the leather chair on the far side of the room but decide to stay upright, prepared for anything. Who knows what this man is going to ask for in exchange for his help. But to save Rose, I’m prepared to do anything.

  I don’t know how long I stand there waiting, but eventually, the doorknob turns, and two men enter, followed closely by Adrian. I meet his eyes until my fear gets the better of me, and I drop my gaze to the floor.

  “Well, look at you,” he says.

  His words make me glance up. The other two men have flanked me, but I don’t even care, not when his eyes are trained on me, his gaze raking me from head to toe. I can almost feel it but not in the same creepy way Sal’s beady eyes linger on my tits or ass. No, this is different. It feels like he’s inspecting me, looking beneath my layers to the parts I keep hidden. Adrian drinks me in, and when he stops, he focuses on my hair. It’s tied back into an elegant chignon—done by Rose, of course—but I wanted it restrained.

  “Everyone out,” he orders. His booming voice startles me, and I jump in my shoes, barely managing to remain standing. The men don’t question him. They simply walk around him and close the door once they leave.

  I’m alone with him for the first time since the party. Like really truly alone and I’m not sure what to do with myself. My courage is flaking away with every twiddling second we stand here, and I try to hold on to why I’ve come in the first place. Rose. I have to save Rose.

  “You came for a reason,” he states. It’s not a question, so I’m not sure how to answer. I’m not sure what answer will make him help me—help us.

  I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders, doing my best to appear strong. “I came to see you.”

  “For…?” he prompts. The iciness of his tone makes me shiver. “If you can’t say it out loud, then you aren’t ready to be here, Val.”

  When he steps forward, I catch the smoky ginger scent of him, and suddenly, I can’t focus. Not on anything but how very close he’s standing now. Or how his hand reaches behind my head and pulls the pins from the bottom of my hair to release it.

  The heft of it tumbles out of its restraints, and he catches it in his hand. I don’t know why the idea of his hand in my hair makes me feel so…warm. No, not warm, hot. I’ve never felt this way around a man. Warm and needy. All the experience I have with sex is visual and forced. I don’t know what to do with these developing feelings except lean into his touch and drag his scent deep into my lungs to keep it there, to memorize it.

  “Tell me why you’re here, Val.” His voice is just above a whisper, and I feel the heat of his breath on my ear.

  I swallow thickly as reality crashes back down around me. His hand is still sifting through my curls, and I don’t dare pull away as I speak. “I need help with a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?” he asks, his eyes focused on my hair.

  If all he wants is to rub my scalp and play with my curls, then I can handle this. I force another ragged breath into my lungs. I’m here, so I might as well commit now.

  “I want you to kill my fiancé.”

  His fingers freeze and snap into a fist, pulling my hair tight against my scalp. Not painfully, but I’m aware of him there, his touch lingering like an invisible noose around my neck. One wrong move, and I’m as good as dead.

  “Do you understand what you’re asking me for?”

  I nod, my courage gone now that I’ve stated what I want.

  He continues moving his fingers again. “And why do you think I can help you with this little problem of yours?”

  Shit. Do I tell him he’s the society’s version of a boogeyman? Does a monster already know he’s a monster, or will he lash out at the person who informs him?

  “Um…well…”

  “Val. Just say it. You haven’t shied away from being honest with me so far.”

  His eyes lock on mine, and I let myself relax into his touch, his hand practically cradling my head now. “You have a reputation of being ruthless. My cousin says you’re dangerous and scary.”

  “Yet you are here.” Another statement so I don’t say anything.

  “Do you understand what you’re asking me for?” He asks the question once more while his fingers massage the base of my neck. His touch feels so good, I barely stifle a moan of pleasure. “Do you understand there is always a price for these types of things? Normally, it comes in the form of money, guns, drugs, or…” His voice trails off, and then he continues, “Are you willing to pay the price? Any price?”

  I nod without thinking. Because there’s really nothing to consider. I’ll do anything to keep Rose safe, even if it means sacrificing myself.

  I meet his eyes and nod again. “I understand.”

  He untangles his fingers gently and takes a large step away. I lean toward him, craving the touch he just revoked.

  “If you understand...then strip. Take everything off and put it on the desk.”

  7

  Adrian

  I don’t know if asking her to strip is a test for her or a test for myself. After only two minutes in this woman’s presence, I’m already butting up against the edge of my control. And that fucking dress should be outlawed. I want to pluck out every single man’s eyeballs who dared to look at her in it or dared to covet her because I watched many of the fight’s spectators note her passing.

  If I can do this. If I can watch her remove every single scrap of clothing and not take her right here on the desk, then I know I can handle helping her.

  My inability to maintain my control isn’t something I’m willing to consider yet.

  Her hands shake as she lifts them to the thick straps that cut into her shoulders. I notice now that the dress is maybe one size too small for her. No wonder it looks so fucking indecent.

  Then as if she forgot what she was doing, she drags her hands over to the curve of her waist. I spot the zipper under her arm and wait for her to ask for my help. Again.

  When people ask me for things, it usually pisses me off because I don’t work for anyone but myself. But it’s not the same with those big eyes staring at me so innocent and full of hope. It also happens that I’ve been dreaming about ripping Sal’s dick off since I met him. Killing him will be no hardship for me.

  “Val,” I whisper. “If you don’t ask for what you need, you’ll never get it.”

  Her eyes flash to mine, locking deep, shooting straight to my cock. I swallow and step into her, taking the top of her zipper between my fingers. “Do you want me to help you?”

  She nods once, her fingers shaking as they brush my knuckles to pull away.

  I carefully slide the zipper down, ensuring I don’t catch it on her skin or any underwear. Underwear she doesn’t seem to be wearing. A ridiculous concept since I’m sure by looking at her this woman has never even had an orgasm in her life. Sweet innocence rolls off her in waves. I almost feel like an asshole for wanting to turn her over the desk right now just to show her what she’s been missing. Almost.

  When I’ve finished lowering the zipper, I drop my hands. Any closer and I won’t be able to keep from touching her. Pushing her further than she can handle right now.

  “I don’t have all night, sweetie. If you’re serious about this, a little nudity isn’t a high price to pay. Especially for what you’re asking.”

  She doesn’t meet my eyes this time as she speaks. “It’s not about being naked. I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’v
e taken my clothes off. Maybe you’ll...”

  “Rape you?” I supply.

  I tuck my hands into the curls at the nape of her neck. “Sweetie, you’re already wet for me. I don’t need to rape you to have you. But if it makes you feel better, all I’m going to do is look at you. For now.”

  “Just look?” she whispers, finally bringing a tear-filled gaze to mine.

  I release my hold on her. “Look and maybe touch. Nowhere you’d find objectionable. I promise you.”

  She stutters out a breath and then quickly jerks the straps of her dress down, down, down to peel off her hips. The tight material has cut into her skin in places, leaving red lines on her creamy pink skin. Her motions are jerky, almost angry, and I smile as she finishes throwing her clothing and shoes on the table.

  “Earrings too?” she asked.

  I shake my head. “You can leave those. It’s fine. But let’s be reasonable here. Fold your clothing up and put it on the table like a civilized person.”

  Her hands shake again, but she does as directed, and my smile grows. Until I finally get a good look at her.

  More than just the faint red lines of her dress mar her. Bruises, both old and new, dot her body from her ankle to her neck. I can see the edges under whatever makeup she’s applied to cover them.

  Rage fires through me, and I must step away and take a moment so I don’t walk out of this room, go to her house, and shoot every motherfucker in sight.

  What’s worse is I hate the fucking way she tucks her delicate chin almost all the way into her chest. As if trying to protect her face without actually making the moves to do it. She can sense my anger but doesn’t realize it’s not directed toward her.

  I circle her another time, allowing my anger to cool slightly. It’s not her fault the men in her life don’t understand what a good thing they were given. But I can see it. I see her for what she really is. Some part of me rebels at taking her innocence and corrupting it.