Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

16

Lucca

The taste of her is still in my mouth, and the memory sealed to my mind.

Good. I don’t want to forget the way her sweet nectar flowed into my mouth or how her pussy tasted like heaven.

Aria and her alluring taste is the last thing that should be on my mind right now.

Not when I’m in a Brotherhood meeting with curious glances being cast my way.

The Pakhan is talking, and when Grigori speaks, he expects everyone’s undivided attention.

He’s been talking about the profits made by the bank over the last month and the new clients we’ve taken on. The discussion is based on my reports I emailed over to him yesterday.

Grigori is standing before us like the proud man he is, and it’s clear he’s happy. Anyone would be with a billion-dollar profit for the month and a level up on the shares he invested in the stock market.

Life for him is good, and when that’s the case, it’s good for the rest of us. It’s good for me because it means I can get the chance to work on what I need to focus on.

A.K.A. Raphael De Marchi. The motherfucker who’s sitting opposite me at the table.

Every time he’s here, I feel like he shouldn’t be. Every time he’s near, I feel the same. Like he should be six feet under, a rotting corpse or bones you can grind into powder.

Motherfucker.

He’ll get his soon enough.

We’re all sitting in order of rank. So I’m next to Pasha, the Pakhan’s son, and Sovientrik, whose role it is to advise him. Next to him are the three Brigadiers, including Damien. I’m the youngest member here, and the youngest member who has ever been part of the elite group. The second youngest person here is actually Raphael.

The other members of our group surround the long table like knights to King Arthur. Each one is pledging their allegiance and their lives.

“The money flows in like the waters of the sea,” Grigori states in a thick Russian accent. He runs his hand over his beard and nods with approval. “Good job, men. Very good job. I imagine us growing from strength to strength. And that wraps up items of business. I do, however, hear congratulations are in order for Lucca.”

Damien made the announcement two days ago.

Grigori lifts his arms and looks at me the same way he does his son.

Pasha nods too.

“Thank you,” I reply. “I appreciate that.”

Grigori looks at Raphael, who tenses in his chair. “It’s a real pleasure to have such a fine union. Raphael, I have no doubt Lucca will make your daughter a fine husband.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit, Pakhan,” Raphael answers.

I look at him and savor the tick in his jaw as he plasters a smile on his stony face. That tick is his tell he’s off his game, like a poker player who’s dealt his last ace and lost everything.

Hearing about the charity is just the tip of the shit. I’ll dig deeper and find out something on this motherfucker that will stick.

When I kill his ass, he’ll die that death a hundred times over.

“Lucca, I do hope you’ll be bringing your bride-to-be to my eighty-seventh birthday celebration,” Grigori states.

“Yes, Pakhan, we look forward to it.” I nod respectfully.

“Wonderful. In the week I need to see you about a private matter. Either Pasha or I will call you with the details once we have them.”

That means he needs someone killed. Again I nod, but something inside me asks the question for the first time of who I’ve become. I’ve always been Merciless to them. That’s what they grew me up to be—an assassin of enemies.

A murderer.

They used me because I was exactly what they wanted me to be, and I used them because every kill was like getting retribution for those who took my family from me. With every enemy I took down, I hoped that maybe I’d gotten the fuckers who killed my family. I hoped that maybe because they were enemies to the Pakhan, they would have been obvious enemies to my father because he was so close to the Pakhan.

But all that death was never satisfying because I never knew for sure.

For all I know, the people responsible are probably walking free to this day.

I’m like a lost soul stuck in limbo trying to find the truth.

I’m not normally like this. I don’t normally think like this. Maybe these thoughts are from my confirmation of what I am to the woman in my home who confuses me.

Or, perhaps the taste of her did something to me.

Something to confuse me even more than I am when it comes to her.

“That’s it, men. I’ll see you next week,” Grigori states, and in unison, we all nod then stand, closing off the meeting.

Damien looks across at me, and I nod. We meet up outside, away from everyone else.

“Everything all good?” he asks.

“Yes. I haven’t found out anything else. I’m on it, though. Everything for the wedding is underway. I just need to show up and get married.”

A spark of interest lights up his eyes. “You haven’t said what you’re doing in regards to the wedding.”

“I just want something small.”

“How small?”

“A few people.” As in the bare minimum. I don’t particularly want Raphael there, but I have to bear in mind that Aria will. She doesn’t know who her father really is and what he’s like.

I might not have been overly surprised to hear he’s dabbling in the flesh trade, but she would. I think it would break her heart to hear it.

“Just the necessary people.” It’s not exactly the conventional kind of wedding where you’d have a host of gatherers there to celebrate the union.

“Okay. That sounds fine. Call me if you hear anything.”

“I will. See you later.”

I leave him, and when I walk out of the building, I see Raphael waiting by the parking lot entrance.

From the look on his face, it looks like he’s waiting for me.

The asshole has the audacity to approach me and square off with me as if we’re equals. He really has some balls, but it's because his head is filled with the value he has to the Pakhan is why he even thinks he should talk to me.

If I were him, I’d avoid me, but I’ll play.

“What?” I demand as he stops in front of me.

“Well played. I’ve been thinking about what’s going on. You know, trying to figure certain things out.”

“Like what? There is nothing for you to figure out.”

“Aria told me she recognized you from before she lost her memories, and it didn’t sound like she was talking about when you were kids.”

“What the fuck is your point?”

“I keep my family out of the business. So she wouldn’t have simply seen you anywhere unless it was planned. I just wonder how long you and Damien have been scheming against me. Scheming to bring me down, no doubt, or maybe it was always about the business. It would certainly make sense.”

I give him a narrowed look. I don’t need to explain myself to him, and I won’t.

When I had my little encounter with Aria before she lost her memories, I told her not to tell her father it was me who saved her. I knew she would keep her promise the same way she did when we were kids.

“I do not answer to you, Raphael.”

“You have my daughter and are nigh on getting my business. I’m sure you can understand why I’m pissed as fuck.”

“You put the Brotherhood at risk with your actions and expect me to turn a blind eye without doling out some punishments of my own? I don’t think so. You are only alive because you’re useful to us.”

I can tell from the squint in his eyes that he doesn’t believe me, but since he can’t figure me out, or what I’m up to, he just has to accept what I’m saying. He knows I could have ended him in every way possible with the evidence I got on the State Attorney’s murder. The fact I didn't is what’s throwing him off.

He steps closer. “You are still scum, and you are like an idiot following Damien. A pawn he can use to his own advantage. You need to watch yourself, Lucca. Watch yourself and who you ally with.”

That’s rich coming from him. “And you need to remember I have secrets and shit on you. Do not make the mistake of questioning me again.”

He gives me a stiff smile. “As you wish.”

I start to walk off, but he stops me, and I glance over my shoulder.

“You saw my daughter before and did nothing to her. I wonder why.”

He doesn’t need to know why. Nobody does. “She is no longer your concern. She’s mine.”

I don’t know what it is or what I said or did to make him smile. It’s something, though. The asshole smiles and looks at me like he’s in on some secret I’m not privy to.

“Yours. Soon she’ll come to see you for the scum you are; the murdering bastard who steals people’s lives. She’s too good for you. Always remember that. It won’t matter what you do. That will never change.”

I turn and walk away from him. His words, though, don’t leave me. They stay, and I can’t shake them.

I ride home, and still, they ring through my mind.

I’ve spent years mastering my emotions and controlling my impulses. But that motherfucker just managed to push my buttons in mere minutes.

I reach home half an hour later with the plan to work through the night on the new contracts Violet left for me.

I haven’t had a full night’s sleep since I was thirteen and encountered the nightmare scene of my family’s massacre. When I do sleep, it’s light, and it’s with my gun within reach.

When I get to the living room, I catch sight of a little red silky scarf resting on the couch. The sight makes me stop.

I walk in and find a poetry book sitting next to it. It’s one from the library, from my mother’s personal collection.

The scarf is Arias. It has her scent. That fragrance of roses. The smell of temptation.

It looks like she was down here reading, though, reading and relaxing in my home

That’s neither good nor bad. I want her to get used to the place, but I don’t want her to feel too comfortable.

I pick up the book and look at it. It’s the Robert Browning collection. One of my mother’s favorites.

Although I don’t like anything out of place, I set the book back down where it was. Marylin will put it back where it belongs in the morning.

Things are tense enough already I’m not going to start being petty about keeping the place tidy. Definitely not when the scent of the scarf reconjures the memory of that delicious taste of want, need, and desire from her arousal.

Aria told me she’d never want me. What a big lie she’s telling herself. She’s been wet for me on two occasions that I know of. Last night Aria wanted me well enough. She didn’t think I was the scum her father called me then.

She liked the way I touched her, and I know she wanted more. I wanted more too.

I wanted to take her right there on the table and sink my cock into her delicious cunt. I wanted to hear her scream my name all night, just like I promised.

For the last few nights, I kept the suspense going and left her wondering when I was going to make good on my word to fuck her. The fear keeps her in line and looks pretty on her. But this is night five in my house, and I haven’t done anything but touch and taste. Neither is enough.

All fucking night the echo of her moans rang through my ears, and the effect of the soft touch of her fingers on my skin lingered like she was still with me.

I told myself I hadn’t fucked her yet because I wanted to focus on the goal.

Obviously, I’d only have to affirm such a thing if she had any effect on me in the first place. I’m man enough to admit there hasn’t been a time when we rotated in each other’s spheres that she didn’t affect me.

And now she’s mine. Mine to do with as I please. Mine to touch in whatever ways I want. Mine to fuck when I want.

But I want her to want me too. The same way I want her.

That’s the real truth of why I haven't done anything yet.

I want to break down that iron-clad resilience that makes her think she doesn’t want me and make her beg me to take her.

I want to wear away her last resolve, so when I take her, she gives herself to me, willingly.

Outside of everything, I still want the girl from the past; the one I gave my first kiss to. That has nothing to do with the goal or business.

Wanting her again hardens my cock, and it takes seconds for me to give up on the idea of working through the night.

I’m not some pussy who won’t stake his claim on a woman he owns.

I think it’s time I start indulging.

I divert and go up the stairs leading to my room. When I open the door, she jumps. She’s over by the window, gazing out at the courtyard.

Her hair is damp, like she just got out of the shower and down in loose graceful waves, just the way I like it.

The slinky nightshirt she’s wearing and those loose shorts show off those long legs and those curves perfectly.

“Hi, I didn’t know you were home,” she states, bringing her hands together. A flush of color races down her long elegant neck when I look her up and down.

“It’s nearly eleven.”

“Of course. It’s late.” She keeps those beautiful eyes trained on me as I walk closer.

“It’s late, so I’ve decided to come to bed.”

“Are you, um… sleeping in here tonight?” she asks nervously. The look in her eyes now isn’t worry. There’s arousal, and I know in that pretty little mind of hers she’s thinking about how she came all over my hands last night and how I ate her out.

The clear arousal brimming in her eyes refutes anything Raphael could say about his princess, and I’m going to enjoy making every part of her mine.

“Yes, I think it’s time to start playing with you.” I brush over her cheek. “Now, take off your clothes.”

Her lips part in sheer surprise, and her skin pales. She swallows hard, and her hands ball at her sides into tight little fists.

She doesn’t protest, though. As much as she wants to, she doesn’t. Instead,

she reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head,

revealing her perfect-sized breasts. Perfectly ripe, full, and round breasts with diamond-hard, rose-dipped nipples that darken and tighten the longer I stare at them.

“Take the shorts off. I’m going to start the way we ended last night. By eating out your pussy.”

Her fair skin turns crimson, and more satisfaction rummages through me

when she follows my command, breasts bobbling as she bends down to push the shorts down her legs.

She’s learning fast to do as she’s told.

Good girl.