The Promise: Mafia Vows Two

by SR Jones

  “Who’s Luka?” My interest is piqued now, enough for me to forget myself and sit at the table with my coffee as I look to Liam. He’s wearing a t-shirt cut high on his biceps and he has a dragon breathing flames out of its cruel mouth wrapped around his arm. Out of all the men it surprises me he’s the one to reach out this way. His face is hard, closed off, and he doesn’t say an awful lot usually, or so it seems from the limited interaction I’ve had with him.

  “He’s another of our guys, and he experienced some PTSD after one of our tours. One time, some kid let off a firework and he hit the ground. Me, my own issues were that I kind of checked out.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  I’m amazed he’s sharing all this so openly at a table full of hardened, battle-scarred men.

  He shrugs. “For years, before Abigail, I didn’t feel anything. I was hollow. Empty, I suppose. Going through the motions only. It made me dangerous because it made me careless about my own safety. Don’t get careless about yourself, Maya. Don’t let them win.”

  With those cryptic words he gets up, pours the dregs of his coffee down the sink, and heads out of the room.

  I watch him go, puzzled.

  “That man,” Andrius says, his heavy accent only adding to his intimidation factor. “He is very strange.”

  “He’s also one of the best,” Reece says, walking into the room. He looks at me. “How are you feeling, chicken?”

  “Peachy,” I snap. How does he think I’m feeling? And chicken? Ugh. Is that some British term of endearment? Or just a Reece term of endearment? He rubs me up the wrong way with his friendly face and lighthearted comments. Bizarrely, I think I prefer the hardness of Liam, or the menace of Andrius to Reece’s cheeriness.

  “What time is the therapist coming?” Damen says. Finally, he gives me his attention. Throughout the conversations going on around us, he’s been staring morosely into his coffee cup.

  “In about twenty minutes.”

  “Do you fancy getting out after?” he asks me.

  Outside. The thought scares me. Where? I don’t want to be anywhere with crowds, or where I can’t easily get away if I want to.

  “Where?”

  “A walk, a simple walk.”

  “Around here?”

  He nods and smiles. “It’s a beautiful day, and it’s a beautiful area. We can take a stroll, some of the guys can come too. It will be safe.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Me,” Andrius says, turning his ghostly eyes my way. “I need to get out of this house; it’s very … how do you say … stuffy.”

  “God, it is,” Reece says. “You need to rip all this shit out and start again, Damen. It could look great if you went with neutrals and some modern art in bright colors to break things up.”

  “Did I ask for fucking decorating tips, asshole?” Damen snaps.

  Reece chuckles and holds his hands up. “Wow, is it the time of the month or something?”

  I slam my coffee cup down and turn a glare his way. “Don’t use female bodily functions to make a joke. That’s sexist as shit.”

  “Holy hell, you’re both on the rag.” Reece laughs, but I’m livid.

  Everywhere I’m noticing how much men disrespect women. Not only the obviously horrible men like Yannis, but even supposed good guys like Reece. They laugh and banter, but it’s often sexist at the heart of it. Making jokes at our expense, by equating behavior they see as weak or somehow inferior with femaleness. Fuck them—fuck them all.

  “Screw you,” I tell him, and his face for once loses its cheery façade, and I see something darker underneath, something I think is probably closer to the real Reece than the act he puts on every day.

  Heavy footsteps follow me when I storm out. It’s Damen, of course. I reach the door to the outside, and step out taking a big breath of fresh air. He stands behind me and I turn, exasperated. “What?” I throw my arms up.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “They are.” I walk a few steps away from him and stare toward the bushes where a few days ago my whole world got turned upside down.

  “They are here to help. They’re keeping your ass safe, so how about you stop being such an ungrateful little princess?”

  The words ignite the anger and rage festering in me, and before I can stop myself, I’m rushing at him, hands raised as I slap at his face and chest. He takes a step back, but then he stands still. He doesn’t raise his arms, doesn’t do anything to defend himself as I hit him, over and over.

  “That’s it,” he says, mystifyingly. “Get it out. Let it all out, baby.”

  “Fuck you, fuck them—fuck you all. You’ve taken everything from me! My freedom all these years, my mother.” Tears are streaming down my face, and I must be hurting him because some of my blows land on his jaw and his upper cheek, but he lets me keep going until the anger seems to dissipate in a puff, and all that’s left is loss and regret.

  I sink to the floor and curl up, not caring that it’s on cold, hard tiles. Sobbing I wind myself into a tighter ball.

  Hands are under me, pulling me up, and suddenly I’m in Damen’s arms as he walks into the house with me. He takes me to the library, where I normally meet with my therapist, and puts me down in one of the comfy leather chairs. The other chairs in this room are all horrific to sit on. Only these two leather ones don’t kill your back within five minutes of perching on them.

  Without saying a word, he goes to the cabinet by the far wall and takes out a bottle of something golden. Brandy, or maybe Scotch? He pours two hefty measures into thick glass tumblers and hands one to me, while he takes a sip of the other.

  He sits in the chair opposite me and watches me with perceptive, dark eyes. “What’s going on with you?” he asks, voice low. “I mean, I get it, you’re traumatized, and you’ve been through hell, but what’s with the rage and the continued talk of getting revenge? Don’t you understand how dangerous that would be?”

  “I don’t care,” I tell him truthfully. “I don’t have anything left.”

  “You have me,” he says.

  “No, I don’t. You don’t love me.”

  “I care for you, deeply, Maya.”

  I snort. “Oh, you have feelings for me. How lucky I am.”

  “Yes, I do have feelings for you, and I tell you now—I will protect you, and care for you, and keep you safe. I’ll make you happy.”

  “Why?”

  He blinks at me twice. “What do you mean?”

  “Why will you do those things?”

  “Because I care for you. I want you to be happy, to be safe.”

  “And you want me, I mean physically? Still, despite what you saw?” I’m referring to my oral Bobbiting of my attacker.

  “Yes, of course I still want you.”

  “So, you want me.” He nods. “It didn’t sound like you did when you were talking to Alesso. I overheard you. It sounded like you didn’t want me.”

  He frowns and scratches his jaw. “What? When?”

  “Right before all the stuff went down. I was coming to get you and overheard you tell Alesso you didn’t love me.”

  “Maya…” His tone is dark, almost angry. “I never said those words. At all.”

  I think back carefully to what I heard, and no, he didn’t. Not as such. Could I have misunderstood? Once again acted out too soon? It scares me to push, to ask, but I need to. I am tentative when I say, “So, you do care for me. Want to protect me. Keep me safe. Keep me with you?” He nods again. I shake my head, so frustrated with the circles we go around and around in. “You know, there’s a single word to sum up all those things you’ve just told me you’re feeling. Love.”

  “Jesus, Maya, why are you pushing this? We’ve only known one another a short while. I’ve laid my life on the line for you. And, I might add, I had to do so because you can’t do one simple thing I ask of you. One fucking thing, Maya.”

  “I was upset.”

  “Upset? Up-set. Jesus, babe, you went over the
top for upset.”

  He’s seething again now, but so am I. “It might only be a short while we’ve known one another,” I say. “But in that short time, we’ve been through more than most people endure in a lifetime, and you say you still want me, and I still want you. Doesn’t that tell you something? I have spent my whole life wanting nothing more than to be loved. Now I want two things. To be loved, and to get my revenge on Costas.”

  He gets out of his chair, unfolding his impressive bulk as if he’s a sleek panther, agile as well as powerful. Walking to me, he hunkers down by my chair and takes my face in his hands. “Okay, on the whole feelings issue … I’ll try, but damn it, you need to give me some time. As far as the revenge goes, you need to drop it. You’ll get yourself killed, and you’ve already tried that once.”

  I stare at the deep brown eyes of the man I love, but also hate. “I can’t let it go; he deserves to suffer for what he did.”

  “I know,” Damen says. “And I’m going to make sure he does.”

  He leans in and presses his lips carefully, softly, to mine. The moment I taste him I’m lost, and I hate myself for this weakness. The addiction I feel for this man’s touch is going to be what brings me crashing down. I should walk away and hold my head high; instead, I sigh into the kiss and deepen it.

  Why can’t I have this? I argue with myself. For a while at least. If he can’t love me, I’ll walk away. I will. I won’t accept second best, but for now? In the immediate future, I can gain comfort from him, and he can help me enact revenge on Costas.

  I pull back. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I will give you space on this whole love thing, but I want something in return.”

  “What?”

  “I want in on whatever it is you have planned for Costas. It’s my revenge, not yours, Damen, and I deserve it. I need it.”

  He stares at me, and something in his gaze changes. I can’t place it or decipher it, but he’s looking at me in a way he never has before.

  “Okay,” he says, and then he grins, bold and blindingly gorgeous. “Okay, Bonnie, you got it.”

  “Bonnie?”

  “Yeah, you’re going to turn us into a latter-day Bonnie and Clyde.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, they targeted innocent people, I only want to make those who are guilty pay.”

  A sharp rap on the door tells me my therapist is here.

  Damen kisses me briefly once more, the mere brush of his lips igniting a deep want in me, and he goes to answer the door.

  Pulling it open, he smiles at Miss Ramos and lets her in. She’s stunningly beautiful. Long dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a smile that could power the city. She’s slim, classical in her style, and the sort of woman I expect my mother would have loved for me to turn out to be.

  Her heritage is an interesting mixture. She told me her mother is half Greek, half Irish, and her father is half Portuguese and half Greek. She speaks Greek, English, Portuguese, and Spanish, and she’s as kind and patient with me as she’s beautiful and smart.

  I can’t help but wonder if Damen thinks he’d prefer someone like her to be with long term. He says his issues about love are on him, but if he had the perfect woman in front of him, surely he’d say it? How much of his reluctance is down to the hot mess that is me?

  “Maya,” she says with a smile. “Damen.”

  “Miss Ramos.” He gives a slight incline of his head then turns and gives me a warm smile. “I’ll leave you in peace. Would you like a drink of water, or coffee perhaps?” he asks the therapist.

  She shakes her head. “I have a bottle of water, thank you.”

  “Okay.” He’s gone, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, and I turn to the woman I’ve talked to about my life more than anyone else.

  I don’t tell her everything, though. I don’t tell her how I want to find Costas and cut him open physically, the way he did to me emotionally and mentally. I don’t tell her that I want Damen more than ever, despite not trusting him. Instead, I answer her questions about how I am doing today, and I keep my deepest darkest secrets close to my chest.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Maya

  After an hour of therapy and a light snack for lunch, because food isn’t very appealing at the moment, I decide I want to take a swim. The pool outside is heated Damen said, and I haven’t tried it yet, but the idea of being in the warm water seems soothing.

  I head to the room I was given when I first got here, the one I don’t sleep in now as I spend every night tucked in Damen’s arms, and I rummage through my bag until I find a swimsuit.

  It’s the gold one, the one my mother hated because she said it was too flashy. Now I hold it to me, and for some reason cry as if it’s one of her precious items. I miss her so much. Our relationship wasn’t easy, but I miss her so bad it physically hurts.

  Miss Ramos says it is because I am suffering with something termed ‘complicated grief’. It can hurt more when you’ve had a difficult relationship with the deceased, particularly if it is someone very close like a parent, child, or sibling.

  My cell phone rings out, and I look at it to see it is Spiros. The bastard keeps calling, but I want nothing to do with him. He turned his back on me a long time ago, and he isn’t my real father. I don’t care if he knows it, either, so it’s probably not safe for me to speak to him as I am likely to blurt it out.

  I pull off my clothes and put on the swimsuit, wrapping a toweling robe around me to hide my body from all the men in this place. My days of playing the sorts of games I did with Alesso are long gone. Whenever I think of doing it, I get a jolt of shame. Not because I think it was so terrible in and of itself, but because it was naïve, stupid, and frankly, desperate. Damen was right to call it that all those weeks ago.

  Grabbing my cell and a towel, I walk out of the room and see I have a voicemail. I put the phone to my ear and listen.

  “Maya, call me back please. I need to speak to you. I am your father, and you can’t keep avoiding me forever. I’ve spoken with Stamatis, and he says you’re still with Damen as it’s important to keep you safe, but how can he keep you safe when he’s such an integral part of the family and organization that have done us so much harm? There are things you don’t know, things I didn’t know until recently. Your uncle is not a trustworthy man and your mother…” His voice actually cracks as if he’s trying not to cry. “Your mother was not the woman I thought she was. You and me, we’re the only family either of us has now. I think we should get away from here.”

  He pauses and coughs. He sounds like crap to be fair, as if all this really has affected him. So far, his message is kind almost, and I’m genuinely surprised he seems to want me by his side. Not that I would go to him for anything. He’s broken both my trust and my love irreparably, but I am still somewhere deep down that little girl who craves her daddy’s love because my heart gives a little skip at the fact he cares in his own way.

  “If you would like to come see me, I would appreciate it very much. I have to sort through your mother’s things, and I don’t want to do that without you, as I imagine there’s quite a bit of her stuff you would like. Then perhaps we can get away somewhere, the two of us. Try to fix things. Perhaps Corfu … or Crete. We can decide nearer the time. Call me, Maya, please.”

  My blood freezes. Crete. The casual way he threw it out there, after he mentioned the red herring of Corfu. I bet he has no idea that I know of his plan to marry me off to those drug growing scumbags out there. God, how much of a cold bastard is he? He’d take me out there, pretend he wanted us to be close, and all along he’d be planning to marry me off when we got there to those people Mom told me about.

  This shit is why I need to get my revenge and make my own way. I have two choices: I either stay and fight, or I run. Run and hide for the rest of my life, which might be an option, but Costas is a lunatic, and who knows what he might or might not do when it comes to me. He may be happy to let me go, but now that his father has disowned him he’ll be looking for someone t
o blame, and that someone will most likely be me.

  Yannis is still out there. Maybe Damen will help set me up with new ID and a new place to live? I will ask him. See how much of an option it truly is. For now, though, I want to clear my head, and the tempting water beckons. I am not supposed to be out here alone, and I poke my head around the door of the room the guys use as a den. Markos is in there, thankfully. He’s the one I want.

  “Markos. Can you come with me while I go outside?” I ask him.

  He stands and walks out of the room. “Of course. What are you doing?”

  “Swimming,” I say, thinking the robe should have made it obvious.

  I picked Markos because he’s not Alesso, who might think I’m coming onto him again. Not Damen, who I want to throttle, and not the other men, who I barely know.

  He sits on a chair by the pool, takes his phone out, and starts to swipe through some app or other. He looks relaxed, as if he has no cares in the world, but the swiping never stops, and I know if it does, the worry beads will come out instead. He also has a holster around his shoulders, and when he stretches his legs out, another peeks out at his ankle.

  I swim, despite the danger and my armed guard. I let go for a while and just slice through the water, and it’s glorious. After, I head to my room for a shower, except out of habit, I go to Damen’s not really thinking. I strip and turn on the shower, then meander back into the main room to grab my phone and put some music on while I’m washing. I stop dead as the door opens, and Damen walks in. I hadn’t even processed fully that I was in his room. Now, I’m standing in front of him totally naked.

  He stares at me, and I swear his gaze licks hot, fiery burns on my skin everywhere it lands. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants with a soft gray Henley, and both of them only highlight his gorgeous body.

  His eyes darken as he walks toward me. “I came in here to find a book to read, but this is much more interesting.”

  He gestures to me, and I smile at the hunger etched on his face. We haven’t been together since I got taken. What with my crying jags every night, and Damen’s conviction I’m suffering from trauma due to sexual assault, it hasn’t been on the table, but it is now.