Tainted Vows | Book 1 'Til Death Do Us Part Duet | Mafia Romance | 18+

Prologue

*So, here it goes.*

Dominic

The tie is suffocating me.

This place is choking me.

I want to yank the material and let go of the collar button.

Fuck.

I could hear her laughter floating in the air.
Her soul was here.
Alive.
Breathing.

I shouldn't have come here. Shouldn't have listened to my old man. He is getting persistent in his old age.

The round mahogany table separates us at a one-meter distance. I am sitting opposite to them. We are currently in their private villa on the balcony in Sicily overlooking the sea. The view is breathtaking.
Spectacular.
Top-notch.

The air smells of summer salt.
But the saltiness in the air doesn't soothe me, rather it makes me burn in anticipation.

Why did He send us an invitation?
There was nothing here, everything was gone. What intrigues me more is, why did he request Dad? Old bastard could have directly sent it to me. Why involve Dad in this shit. He had retired from the business. Had stepped down to pass the legacy to me now sitting next to me. His demeanor calm.

I look at the two men in front of me.

Italians.

Again, why are we here? Certainly, it wasn't for the tea and biscuits. I scoff at my assumption.

I drill my eyes on the man before me. He isn't that old but something is uncanny.

So, the rumours are true.

Capo is getting old.

The once-powerful and ruthless man the world had witnessed is ageing. His hair is turning grey. Wrinkles crawling on his once stoic face. Yet, the eyes are cold stone.

A single glance and he could freeze the pacific.

My eyes shift to the younger version of the old bastard.

Giovanni De Luca.
He had grown up more since the last time I saw him. The ruthless tycoon they say. Tycoon? I scoff. The outside world doesn't have a glimpse of what he does for the living.

What we do for a living.

Like father, like son. Dark eyes pierce me. He is scanning me like I'm the worm on their property he needs to squash under those polished Italian leather shoes.

Fuck. He knows better.

I am sitting in this chair for the last twenty minutes, my tolerance racing on the thin wire and the old bastard is staring at me. With no compassion whatsoever. If this silence prolongs any longer I am sure I'm going to load the goddamm bullet in their skull.

But then, it would mean war.
It would mean breaking the treaty between the families.

Treaty. Fucking word makes me want to pull the trigger.

For the blood.
The primal instincts roar.
Kill. Smash. Slaughter. Destroy.
It would mean bloodshed. Mayhem.
I withstand my thoughts of killing them at arm's length.

I know he is testing me. Fucking old bastard. I am tempted to bark at him. To explain to me what the fuck I was doing here. I stay calm, nevertheless.

'Don't show any emotions.' The first lesson in bratva. You are a weakling if you exhibit any.

"Respect the time, son." Dad's words blare into my ears.

I'm not like him. Nothing like him.

I'm worse. Much worse.