The Killer’s Vow by Aria R. Blue
Simon
The sound of crisp paper being turned wakes me up.
Sunlight pours in through the windows.
Vera is the first thing I see, her skin made radiant by the morning light.
She’s lying on her stomach with her ankles crossed in the air.
There’s a thick book in front of her.
With a cream bedsheet wrapped around her body and her curly hair in a low ponytail, she looks every bit as ethereal as she did last night in that black dress.
“I could get used to this,” I say, tugging on her bedsheet.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she says, lifting her gaze from the book she’d been reading. “How’d you sleep?”
My fingers trace the soft skin of her arms. I’m already distracted.
“You won’t believe what I learned about Signora Ranallo,” she says.
Of course she’s already strategizing on how to get her hands on those video recordings.
I turn to my side and find that the Black Book she’s reading is the one Ivy gave her.
“What’s the big deal about that book, anyway?” I ask.
She blinks at my question. “You’re joking, right?”
I shrug. “It just has information.”
“It’s not just information. It’s a weapon. It has everything on everybody. Do you have any idea how much power something like this holds?”
“It’s basically like Wikipedia.”
“Yeah, but nobody knows anybody’s secrets when it comes to crime organizations. But this book has them all.”
I still don’t see why it’s so special in their circles.
The Black Book is the pride and joy of the Blackwood crime family of Chicago, one of the wealthiest crime families to exist.
I’ve heard it being whispered in conversations. Several attempts have been made to steal it, but it’s only been with the American gangsters until now.
But Ivy Blackwood handed it to Vera.
It says a lot about a person’s character.
In a world where money comes before people, it shows that Ivy isn’t like the rest. She might be great at our kind of business, but she also has a heart.
“So what did you find about the woman we’ll be meeting today?” I ask Vera.
Signora Ranallo had agreed to meet us at one of our resort’s restaurants for dinner tonight.
And Vera isn’t one to go unprepared.
She licks her lips and turns her attention back to the book. “I learned that she likes designer shoes and cats. She dislikes narcissistic men and the concept of deep-dish pizza.”
“What did Chicago-style pizza ever do to her?”
“She thinks it’s unnatural. Also, she’s Italian.”
“And what do her food preferences have to do with our meeting tonight?”
“Um, duh. How else are we going to make a good impression?”
“I don’t know much about Signora Ranallo, but I don’t think ass-kissing is the way to go.”
“This isn’t…I’m just learning everything there is to know about her,” Vera says defensively. “What’s wrong with being prepared?”
“Vera, you’re overthinking this.”
“What else should I do, then?”
“Just be yourself.”
She snorts. “That’s funny.”
I drag my thumb over her lips.
The smile fades from her face. As if she’s exploring something for the first time, her lips part, and she sucks my thumb into her warm little mouth.
Fuck.
“There’s something I want to try,” she says, looking up at me through her long lashes
Fuck.
My thumb is still inside her mouth.
Before I can respond, she rises, letting the bedsheet fall away. Her breasts swing as she shimmies down my body, placing kisses at the base of my stomach.
I fist her hair, stopping her in the process.
“If you’re going to suck my cock, you’re going to have to do it the right way.”
“There’s a right way?” she asks, her hand reaching for my cock.
It lurches at her touch.
I direct her to how I want her.
On her knees with me sitting on the foot of the bed.
“I know you’ve never had a cock before, so I’ll guide you through it,” I say, fisting her hair and tugging her head back.
She gasps at the roughness and looks up at me with heavy eyelids.
“Eyes on me the entire time,” I say, reaching down to pry her arms away from her lap. “Show me those pretty tits. I want to watch them while you suck me off.”
She shifts her weight and licks her lips submissively.
I guide my cock to her mouth, making her pouty lips part. She looks up at me trustingly.
“That’s it, princess. Now open up.”
She moans as my flavor coats her little tongue. I hold the back of her head and push myself into her all the way.
One. Two. Three seconds.
She taps my thigh as her eyes start to water up.
I release her, letting her take a deep breath before I do the same over and over again.
We find a tempo that works for both of us.
Eventually, she’s touching herself as she sucks my cock like a good little princess. Her breasts flatten against my legs as she moves up and down my shaft.
The sight of it all becomes too much.
I throw her back on the bed and bury myself inside her.
“No matter how we start, I always have to finish inside this tight little fuck hole,” I say, letting her know just how addicted I am to her.
She doesn’t push me away or call me a psycho for the things I say.
If anything, she gets off on it.
And just like last night, she comes seconds before I do.
Watching her come undone is the best aphrodisiac. Even a man like me doesn’t stand a chance.
I fill her up with my seed and keep my cock inside her as I kiss her.
“How is it still hard?” she asks.
“I haven’t gotten enough of you,” I say, nibbling on her bottom lip.
She rolls her hips, still pinned under my weight. “Simon.”
When she moans my name like that, I have no choice but to give it to her all over again.
I could spend an entire lifetime fucking and worshiping this girl. Even that won’t be enough.
Somehow, she snuck her way into the deepest parts of me.
There’s no letting go of her now.
And every person who wants to hurt her—they will rue the day they decide that she belongs in a gilded cage.
* * *
Vera turnsinto a little kid when we get on the boat to Magic Kingdom, the first Disney theme park we’re visiting.
She won’t stop grinning.
“Simon, look at how dreamy that castle is,” she gushes.
I can’t get enough of the brightness in her eyes. It should’ve always been this way.
Though neither of our childhoods was ideal, there’s a sense of lightness that blossoms when we’re together.
Something playful and pure.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand as we step off the boat and into the theme park.
Everyone in the crowd has their eyes on the shimmering castle in the distance.
But I can’t stop looking at Vera.
She’s wearing a kimono cardigan over jean shorts and a white tank top. On the way, she stops to buy a sequinned pink Minnie Mouse headband.
“Do I look cute?” she asks.
“Da, tigritsa moya,” I reply, my throat hoarse.
I don’t know if it’s because of the location or the sex, but she’s more lively than I’ve ever seen her.
There’s a spring to her step as she walks.
Usually, only her dog inspires this kind of buoyancy in her. But Lion is at the resort’s doggy daycare center, being exercised and pampered to his heart’s content.
We’ll be meeting him again in the evening after dinner with Signora Ranallo.
A place like Disney World is the perfect place to hide.
The security is outstanding, and it’s easy to blend in. As a result, it’s also easy to stay hidden.
We spend the morning walking around from one Disney experience to another.
“It’s my first,” Vera says as the park staff checks our lap bars for a roller-coaster ride.
“Mine too,” I say, looking over at her.
Two minutes later, both of us agree to go on as many roller coasters as we can this week.
Even if her face is caught on a camera, she’s unrecognizable. She selected a new nose today, along with drastically different hair.
But to my eyes, she’s still Vera—no matter what she looks like.
I want it to be a normal day.
But of course a day without any trouble is too much to ask for.
The sun is high in the sky when I find the dead body.
He’s cooking under the Florida sun, slumped on a park bench with a Panama hat covering his face. Sunglasses hide his dead eyes. I know he’s dead from the rigor mortis setting in and the pallor of his skin.
It’ll be a while before anyone else finds him.
It’s his tattoos that give away his identity.
Prison tattoos snake up his unnaturally extended neck, telling me everything I need to know about him.
He’s one of the bounty hunters.
He must have tracked us all the way down to Florida, hoping to snag the prize money the Pakhan put out for his eldest daughter.
But he’s dead.
Which means someone killed him.
I discreetly scan the area to see if the person who left him here is still around.
Vera returns with a large yellow drink in hand—pineapple juice with soft serve floating on top.
“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately, her thumb pressing down on the crease between my eyebrows.
I relax my face for her.
“You were away for too long,” I say, taking her arm and moving her away from the dead man on the bench.
I want this to be a fond memory for her—not another one marred by death and destruction.
“You have to try this,” she says, passing me the drink before opening her map again.
She’s more carefree here, but she’s still Vera. So of course she has a map and a pen with her.
“Big Thunder Mountain Railroad,” she announces.
“Another roller coaster?” I ask, smiling at her excitement.
“I don’t think I can ever get enough,” she says.
I absorb her in her sequinned Minnie Mouse ears over her fake hair.
Me neither, I think.
After we cover another portion of the park, Vera sticks her nose back in the map.
“How does a trek to Beast’s castle sound?” she asks, gazing up at me from over the map.
“Are those shoes comfortable for a trek?” I ask, looking down at her white trainers.
They look comfortable, but I know that they’re also brand new.
She shifts from one foot to another. “I’ll survive.”
I lift her into my arms anyway.
She starts to protest, but I splay my hand over her waist, silencing her. It’s an erotic spot for her. She feels both comforted and turned on whenever I touch the skin over her stomach or back.
We walk to the smaller castle of the park.
The crowd thins out over here, and eventually, Vera rests her head against my chest.
She points at a statue of a frowning gargoyle. “That’s what my soul looks like.”
I roll my eyes at her dramatic nature.
She sighs. “Inessa would really love this place.”
Even though she’s thinking about her lost sister, she’s still in a good mood.
“We can have lunch inside the castle,” I say.
She nods. “Sounds good. Also, you can put me back down now, Simon. People are starting to stare.”
She’s right.
But the real reason I end up letting her walk again is to avoid unnecessary attention.
We step into the castle together.
Vera stops at a stained glass mural of Belle and the Beast. There’s a giant red rose above them.
“You know what this reminds me of?” she asks, cocking her head at it.
“The almost wedding at the church?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says, looking at me. “I had so many of those. A marriage should be something sacred, you know? But I keep being sold like I’m an antique piece of jewelry.”
She’s not saying this to entice pity from me.
She’s saying it because there’s nobody else she can share this kind of stuff with.
There’s nobody else who would listen to her without judgment.
“I’m sorry your family’s so corrupt,” I offer.
“It wasn’t always that way,” she says, sucking in a deep breath. “Papa and I were so close back in Russia. Inessa doesn’t remember our time there, but I do. He used to spend time with us, play with us at the dacha, and tell us bedtime stories every night. Our life there was so different.”
“Is that why you miss Russia?”
“It’s one of the reasons, yeah,” she says. “Life was just so much simpler back then. So peaceful.”
“Come on,” I say, guiding her into the restaurant.
The thing about Disney World is that everybody greets you like you’re their long-lost best friend.
This restaurant’s vibe is no different.
I sense our energies shifting to match our surroundings.
The heavy cloak that had been over our shoulders until now slips off.
We fall into easy chatter about our day.
Over lunch, she talks about all the rides we’ve ridden and what her favorite is (Seven Dwarfs Mine Train). And then, she tells me the rest of the information she found on Signora Ranallo.
I try my best to listen to her, but my thoughts keep drifting back to the body I found on the bench.
“You seem distracted,” she says, pointing her fork at me accusingly.
“Do I?” I ask, glancing back at my plate.
I’m saved from having to come up with an explanation by the server.
“How is your lunch going?” he asks, beaming at Vera.
“It’s great, thank you,” she says, smiling back at him.
Okay, that’s it.
No tip for this guy.
“Would you like any dessert?” he asks, his attention still trained on her.
For the first time in my life, I wish my occupation came with a badge.
Killer.
Will kill you if you overstep boundaries.
And smiling at my girl oversteps all the boundaries.
“We’re fine,” I say, clearing my throat when Vera doesn’t reply.
“You should try the gray stuff.” He winks at her, signing his death certificate. “It’s delicious.”
“Bring it to us then,” I grit out.
He beams at me and then leaves. I clench my fists on the table, quelling the urge to beat all of that cheerfulness out of his face.
Vera reaches for my hand. “I thought you were a cool guy.”
“I am.” And I usually am, but everything inside me is rattled right now.
And it has as much to do with the overly friendly server as it does with the body on the bench.
Who killed him?
Is that killer still watching us?
I’m doubting everything now—the decision to bring Vera to such a public location, involving Chicago’s other families in this, not staying until Rebekah woke up.
It’s possible that Rebekah’s trying to mess with me.
But she’s usually not so subtle with her ways. Her techniques involve grandeur and detonators.
The dessert—the gray stuff, is placed on the table. This time, the server catches my warning glare and leaves before I beat his face to a pulp.
Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, the gray stuff is a chocolate cupcake served in a teacup with gray frosting and candy pearls on top.
Vera loves it.
We end up staying at the restaurant for another hour.
I tell her some wild stories about my time at the Institute back in Russia. She tells me more about her greenhouse plants.
In the evening, we watch the parade on Main Street.
Everybody joins in and dances on the street. Even Vera. I keep a watch on anyone who gets too close to her.
I thought Florida would be a safe place.
But not only did a bounty hunter follow us here, he even got killed by someone else who probably wanted to get to us first.
This not knowing is the worst.
If I at least knew who to be on the lookout for, it would’ve put my mind at ease.
But it could really be anyone.
My mind stops racing at the speed of light when I see something—Vera throwing her head back in pure joy.
Her Minnie Mouse ears catch the evening light, sparkling brighter than the castle in the distance.
She gets me to focus.
Prioritize.
As long as she’s happy, that’s all that matters.
As for the things I don’t have control over, I’ll have to have some faith that it will be all right.
I’ve survived the streets.
I can get through Disney World just fine.