Devious Vow: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

Holy fuck.

It’s close to midnight when the Uber drops me off outside our penthouse after yet another exhausting day at work. My feet are on fire. My legs hurt. I’m cross-eyed from staring at a screen, not to mention archived legal files in eleven-point font all day and well into the night.

I’m not an idiot. I know how things work, how the new person gets “hazed” or jerked around—how they get all the shitty work no one else wants dumped on them, like an initiation thing.

But that’s not what’s going on here. These are shots fired across the bow. These are power moves, done expressly to show me “my place” by Alistair, making sure I’m fully aware of his opinion when it comes to me working at Crown and Black. As if that was unclear before.

I finally got a chance to go fix all of my paperwork with HR, switching my name from Carveli to LeBlanc. When I got back to my desk, the files had literally doubled. It got to the point today where I couldn’t even swivel my chair left or right in my shitty, tiny cubicle because of all the boxes. I swear, if I sneezed, one of those towers was going to crash down on me and bury me alive in busywork.

But I stayed, working until the screen in front of me was blurry and the janitor asked if I was okay. It’s only then that I realized I was the very last person on the floor.

Trust me, if you’re there past the aides and junior associates, you’re working late.

But I’ll be damned if I’m going whine to King Asshole about anything. Fuck him. It’s not my fault that Massimo made him hire me in exchange for billable hours. And if he thinks he can overwork me into quitting, he’s dead wrong.

I mean, I’d rather be at Crown and Black bleeding from the eyeballs and fingertips than at home with Massimo, anyway.

…Especially after today.

My cheeks burn hotly as my memory flashes to the records room in the basement, and I pause outside the building, chewing on my lip as it all comes flooding back. The bitterness of our words. The anger in his eyes.

…The raw heat in his hands and his body when he caught me as I fell. The single second of being this close to kissing him that seemed to last an eternity before it scattered like dust in a breeze.

I quickly shake my head as I go into the lobby. Whatever the hell that was, it’s most certainly never, ever happening again. I won’t let it. Because it’s screwing with me, badly.

Two of my husband’s guards escort me up to Massimo’s gaudy penthouse, which looks like it could be used for photoshoots for Cocaine Life or Douchebag Weekly. The whole place is strip-club chrome, neon blue, and white marble, and looks like it was decorated by a martial arts instructor in the 80s.

I hate it.

One of the guards uses a keycard to open the front door, ushering me in before closing and locking it behind me. I drop my stuff in the entryway and head to the kitchen to get a very much-needed drink. I also make a mental note to stash another bottle in my bag for when Alistair inevitably has me working until midnight again tomorrow, since he confiscated the one he spotted today.

Yes, I understand it’s not exactly the greatest to be drinking vodka out of a coffee cup in the middle of the afternoon at work. But, point of order, your honor. There are more than a few “extenuating circumstances” going on in my life right now.

The sound of Massimo grunting, a woman fake moaning, and flesh slapping flesh does and doesn’t surprise me. But I ignore it, making a beeline for the fridge and pouring myself a gigantic glass of Chardonnay. I take a hefty sip, then another, before topping it up and heading into the living room to face the inevitable.

I mean, it’s not like Massimo is fucking some other girl in our living room so that I don’t catch him.

Sure enough, he’s railing some poor brunette from behind on our living room floor when I step in. He looks up and grins savagely, his fingers digging into her hips as he starts to fuck her even harder.

I suppose you could call Massimo a classically handsome man. He’s got dark eyes and hair and tanned skin thanks to his Sicilian background. He’s no Marvel superhero actor, but he still keeps in extremely good shape.

But there’s just something I find so disgustingly unattractive about him that watching him fuck like this is literally nauseating to me. On top of that, the girls he aggressively screws like this are almost always hired professionals. It always ends up feeling like I’m watching someone get assaulted.

Massimo grunts, his hips slapping against the girl’s ass. She glances up in surprise, seeing me standing there.

“Oh, I didn’t know this was a couples thing⁠—”

“It’s not. She’s just watching,” Massimo mutters, not missing a beat.

The girl looks confused. “Okay. Well, it’s still extra if she’s⁠—”

“Shut. The. Fuck…” he snarls, fucking her even harder, until she winces. “Up.” He looks up at me, accusatory. “You’re late.”

I shrug, refusing to show my exhaustion or pain from the long hours. “I texted Rocco.”

“Is Rocco your fucking husband?”

I sigh, looking away and gulping my wine as Massimo plows into the woman on the floor.

“How was your day?”

“Peachy,” I mutter.

“Tomorrow,” Massimo grunts, “I need you to do something for me at Crown and Black.”

I frown, still looking away. “Do what?”

“There’s a file. I want it.”

I bark out a cold laugh. “There are about a million files at that office.”

Trust me. They’re all sitting in my cubicle.

“I don’t want…ugh, yeah, bitch,” he snarls at the escort. “I don’t want a million files, you dumb cow,” he grunts. “I want one specific file—goddammit, Eloise, look at me!”

I flinch at his brutal tone, finally dragging my eyes back to his. Massimo’s upper lip curls.

“My father did some business with Crown and Black, and they’re currently in possession of a copy of his will.”

My brows furrow. “You have your father’s will.”

I’ve seen it, several times. It’s the one giving Massimo complete control over the Carveli empire, as well as the entirety of his father’s fortune, even though the two of them had been at odds for years.

“Well, I want that copy,” he snarls, fucking into the girl as she winces. “And it’s somewhere secure in that office.”

I wrinkle my nose. “And you want me to take it?”

He glares at me. “Did I stutter, bitch?”

“You’re asking me to steal confidential legal documents from a law firm, for whom I work.”

Massimo sneers at me. “Why the fuck do you think I got you a job there in the first place?” he snaps, thrusting hard. “You think I was doing you a fucking favor?”

Anger surges inside of me. I mean I knew there had to be a catch, some sort of motive. But this is bullshit.

“You’re asking me to steal a personal legal document.”

“And?”

I shake my head, looking away as I swallow another large mouthful of wine. “No.”

“The fuck do you mean, no?”

“I mean no,” I snap testily. “As in, I’m not doing it.”

Massimo doesn’t reply. But I can hear the mewling cries of the girl he’s fucking getting louder and more desperate.

“Massimo,” I hiss quietly, still looking away. “Stop it.”

He starts to fuck her even harder.

“You’re hurting her. Stop⁠—”

“Have you spoken to Camille recently?”

Slowly, my gaze drags back to him. Massimo is looking at me with an unhinged, sadistic look in his eyes.

“Alistair Black fucked her once, didn’t he?”

My pulse turns to ice in my veins.

“I don’t exactly blame him,” he grins. “She’s a pretty girl.”

“Fuck you.”

“Such a pretty mouth, too.” He’s not smiling anymore as his gaze lasers in on mine. “I bet she sucks dick really well. Maybe I’ll ask Alistair next time⁠—”

“Keep my fucking sister out of this,” I snap, my jaw clenched.

Massimo grins. “I’d like nothing more, dear wife. And as long as you do as I ask, I will.”

The brunette looks like she’s barely holding back tears as he savagely slams into her.

“Stop it!” I choke.

“Will you get what I asked for?”

“Yes!”

“You’re sure?”

A tear beads in my eye as I look at the way he’s brutalizing the poor girl. “For fuck’s sake, Massimo!” I shriek. “Yes, okay?!”

His eyes roll back and he groans deeply. “Oh fuuuck yesss…”

I look away as he goes still, enjoying his release.

“Fuckkkk, that was good.”

I’m wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, still looking away as I shake my head furiously.

“Eloise.”

“What.” Fuck, I hate him so much.

“Eloise.”

I grit my teeth as I whirl on him. “What?!”

In one motion, he reaches for his jacket on the couch behind him, grabs the gun from underneath it, and aims it at the back of the brunette’s head.

My eyes widen as my mouth falls open. “NO⁠—!”

The gun goes off with a thunderous bang, spraying blood and gore across the floor between us. Whirling, I drop the glass, letting it shatter on the ground as I bend down and start to vomit and cry at the same time.

I can hear Massimo behind me, walking over to the bar cart. “The next time,” he murmurs quietly, “they’ll send me the fucking blonde I asked for.”

I convulse and puke onto the floor again, tears burning my face and stomach acid on my chin.

“Look at me, Eloise.”

I can’t.

“LOOK. AT. ME.”

Shuddering, I turn to him.

“Do as I say and get that fucking will,” he growls quietly, standing there, naked, blood on his chest and a drink in his hand. He waves the gun in the other one. “Or the next time you witness that, it’ll be your dear sister with my cum in her cunt and her brains on the floor.”