Broken Promise by M. James

Sofia

Ifeel as if all the breath has been sucked out of my body.

I’d suspected something like this when the nurse had said Rossi was in critical condition. But I hadn’t wanted to think about it. With Luca in charge—I don’t want to think about what will happen next. If he’ll become harder, crueler, and impatient with me, if he’ll expect me to fulfill the same kind of role that Giulia did, that of a good mafia don’s wife. I know he’d hoped, even expected for it to be years before anything like this happened.

“I thought I’d have more time to prepare you,” Luca says quietly, confirming my suspicions. “I will be don—at least acting, but most likely for good, even if Rossi recovers. It’s doubtful that he’ll be able to take up his duties again.”

Looking at his face, I can’t tell if he’s happy about it or not.

“You’ll have responsibilities too,” he says. “Although I don’t expect that you’ll willingly take up many of them,” he adds, a touch of bitterness in his voice. “But if you can at least try to be a good friend to Caterina during this time, it would help.”

“I’d already planned to talk to her,” I say defensively. “After all—”

“You know about dead parents. Yes, I’m well aware. As do I,” Luca reminds me. “I need you to think less about your issues with me in the coming days, Sofia, and more about all of our survival.”

“Who was it?” I manage to keep my voice from trembling. “Do you know?”

“Not for certain, yet. But I would put money on the Bratva,” Luca says tightly. “It’s them that we’re fighting with, after all. Boston has no reason to bother us. If it didn’t have something to do with Viktor and his men, I’d be shocked.”

I’ma little shocked, too, if only because that’s the most open he’s been with me since the day he brought me back to his penthouse. “So what now?”

“Now,” he says, standing up and smoothing his hands down the legs of his pants, “we go see Rossi. And then we go home.”

Something in my stomach clenches every time he says home. I do a decent job of hiding it, though, looking away as the nurse comes in to get me ready to leave. Luca brought my bag in with him, and I manage a mumbled “thank you” as I grab it and head into the bathroom. I feel overcome with nerves suddenly, facing going back to the penthouse with him and seeing Rossi before that. All of this has been some kind of awful, escalating nightmare ever since the Bratva kidnapped me, and I can’t take anymore.

But clearly, things are going to get worse before they get better.

I emerge a few minutes later, in jeans and a blue sleeveless top, my hair scraped up into a ponytail. I desperately need a shower and feel worse than I have in recent memory. I’m almost grateful to be going back to Luca’s place if it means I can wash my hair and get a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

Luca is waiting for me when I step out, and he takes my hand without bothering to ask, holding it tightly as we walk out into the hall. It’s not so much a romantic gesture as a possessive one, and even when I try to wriggle my hand free of his grasp, it’s clear that he has an iron grip on me. “I’m not going to run away,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m not that stupid.”

“You might,” he says coolly. “Rossi is in the hospital, and I’ll be the don shortly. You might decide that now is as good a time as any to make a run for it. But I’ll warn you, while I wouldn’t have you killed, I can certainly have you picked up and brought back to me. Just about every cop in this town is on our payroll. No one in this hospital will help you either,” he adds, seeing me look around. “Our grip on this city is strong, Sofia. You can’t escape me, just as you couldn’t escape Rossi. The difference is that he would have had you killed. I’ll simply make you regret trying to leave.”

The cool indifference in his voice chills me as much as his words do. I have to almost trot to keep up with his long strides as we make our way towards the elevator, and I feel like I might be sick. I’d thought that Rossi dying would mean I might be able to get out of this, but I can see that tiny loophole narrowing until I’m not sure if it even exists anymore. This really might be for the rest of my life—or at least until Luca dies.

I hadn’t known until death do us part was supposed to be something I wished for. Ten minutes ago, I’d been glad he survived. Now I’m not so sure anymore.

Luca doesn’t say a word to me as we ride up to the floor Don Rossi is staying on. He remains silent until we walk into the room, where Caterina and Franco are already waiting for us. Franco is uncharacteristically somber, giving Luca a quick but tight hug, and Caterina is visibly a mess. I’ve never seen her without makeup before, but she’s completely bare-faced, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her lips bitten, and her face deathly pale. I notice that she’s standing a little apart from Franco, who doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to his grieving wife at all. I can feel how lonely she is just from looking at her. It radiates off of her like an aura.

I remember that feeling all too well after my own mother died and left me all alone. It breaks my heart to see her like that, especially when Franco should be the one who’s there for her through this. He’s not even injured, not a scratch on him, since he was still in his hotel room when the attack happened—too hungover to come down. Lucky him, I think bitterly. I wonder how Caterina feels about that—glad that her fiancé is unharmed, or bitter that out of all of us, her mother is the one who had to die?

“Luca.” Rossi’s voice is hoarse and cracked, but it still retains some of its old power nonetheless. “Come stand by me.”

Franco goes with him, standing at Luca’s side as they walk around to the other side of the hospital bed, leaving me next to Caterina. She glances over at me, and I reach out instinctively, taking her hand. I wonder if she’ll pull back—we’re not that close, after all, but her fingers lace through mine instead, squeezing back. Her face is still pale and somber, but when her eyes meet mine, I can see that she’s grateful for the support.

“If circumstances were different,” Rossi says, “there would be a formal ceremony to pass the title on to you. But since they’re not, and I’m not leaving here anytime soon, this is the best we can do.” He takes a deep, rattling breath, and I wince just hearing it. I can see from everything about him that Luca was right when he guessed that Rossi probably won’t ever be in any shape to lead again. Even if he survives, he won’t ever be strong again. He’s already an old man, and this was a massive blow.

“I, Vitto Rossi, in the presence of these witnesses—my daughter Caterina, your wife Sofia, and my consigliere Franco Bianchi—renounce my seat at the head of the family and my title as Don. I pass it on to you, Luca Romano, son of Marco, heir to my place. You will hold this title, preserve and defend it and the family you lead, until such a time as you pass on or see fit to step down. You will pass it on to the first son of my blood, born of the union between my daughter and Franco Bianchi.”

He tugs at the ring on his finger then, a thick band with a ruby embedded in the top of it, and I swallow hard. The energy in the room is tense. Everyone focused on the two men—one in the hospital bed, one standing beside it—and the transfer of power taking place there.

“I, Luca Romano, accept this title and the place that it gives me at the head of the table. I vow to uphold the alliances you have built, defend against all enemies, and give my blood and life if need be in defense of the family. I will hold, preserve, and defend all who serve with and under me, and when the time comes for the title to pass on, I vow to give it to the first son of your blood, the child of Caterina Rossi and Franco Bianchi.”

Those last words, repeated by Luca loud and clear, are a cold reminder of the contract I signed and my place in this family. A reminder that I won’t even have children to love, no family to console me while my husband is off killing and torturing and fucking other women. Mrs. Rossi had that, at least, a beautiful daughter to love and cherish even if she couldn’t have a husband who cared for anything other than his power and greed.

I’ll have nothing. No husband, no children, barely even my best friend. No real purpose other than sitting down and shutting up and holding onto Luca’s arm in public when need be. I’m a trophy wife, a decoration, a means to an end. A card taken out of play.

My happiness doesn’t matter at all.

I hear Caterina’s breathing, and I glance sideways to see her hand pressed over her mouth, tears gathering on her lower lashes. But neither Luca nor Don Rossi is paying attention to any of us. Franco stands at his elbow as Luca takes the ring, sliding it onto his first finger and gripping Don Rossi’s hand.

“You’ve been like a second father to me,” he says quietly, his voice low enough that I have to strain to hear it. “I’ll do my best to be worthy of the trust you’ve placed in me.”

“I have faith in you, son.” Rossi smiles weakly, gripping Luca’s hand until his knuckles turn white.

“He needs rest,” Caterina says suddenly, stepping forward. Her voice is shaky, and her face is very pale, but she looks firm. “Please, this is enough ceremony.”

“Quiet, woman,” Franco growls, and I look over sharply at him, surprised. I’ve spent very little time around him, but on the few occasions that we have met, he seemed the most lighthearted and boyish of them, not someone who takes life all that seriously. But now I see someone else underneath that, someone capable of snapping at his fiancée on one of the worst days of her life, someone who might have a side to him as brutal as any of these other men.

It’s a reminder to me all over again not to let my guard down. I can’t trust anyone—least of all, my new husband.

Caterina visibly flinches, shrinking back next to me, and it makes my heart ache to see it. Everything about her so far has shown me that she’s kind, that she at least wants to try to be my friend, even if it’s hard for me to let her in. Seeing Franco be so cruel to her makes me hate him. At least Luca speaks to me politely in public, even if we fight behind closed doors.

“I want Giulia avenged,” I hear Rossi say quietly, still gripping Luca’s hand. “Those bastard dogs killed my wife. That’s not something that can go unanswered.”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s the Bratva,” Luca replies quietly. “But rest assured, Vitto, we won’t allow her death to be ignored.”

“I won’t be able to be at the funeral. Make sure—”

“I’ll handle all of it, papa,” Caterina says, stepping forward again with her chin lifted. “Don’t worry about a thing.” She walks to his bedside without looking at Franco, taking her father’s other hand. “I’ll make sure mama is laid to rest properly.”

I realize then, with a little bit of a shock, that she really does love her father. It shouldn’t have surprised me, I suppose—I’m sure there were many things my own father did that were as violent as anything Rossi has done. He worked for him, after all—served him, really. And I loved my father deeply. But I wasn’t aware of the things he did, everything he was a part of. Caterina surely knows more—she was raised to be a part of this, marry the right man, and be a good mafia wife. But she still loves him.

And now he and Franco are all she has left.

“Come on,” Luca says tersely, letting go of Rossi’s hand and crossing to me. “It’s time to get you home and safe.”

The words should be reassuring, but they’re not. I know I don’t have any choice, though, so I follow Luca obediently out of the hospital room and to the elevator, staying silent the whole way.

The ring on his finger glimmers in the light, the red ruby gleaming. It sitting on his right hand represents every bit as much of a commitment as the gold band on his left does, and I can’t help but wonder if it comes down to it, which commitment will win out? He’s promised to keep me safe, made me his wife to accomplish exactly that, and yet—if the title he’s just vowed to uphold demands otherwise, what would he choose?

It makes me feel more uneasy than ever, and I can’t shake the feeling as we get into Luca’s car and ride the blocks back to the towering building that he—we—live in. It persists all the way up to the penthouse, and as we walk into the living room and he presses the button to pull the blinds back and flood the room with light, I turn to face him.

“So what now?” I swallow hard, looking up at my new husband. “When will the funeral be?”

“It’s tomorrow,” Luca says tightly. “But you won’t be going.”

“What? But surely, since we’re married, people will expect to see me there—”

“There will be plenty of times you’re expected to be seen, but I’m not particularly concerned with this one.” The words are cold and clipped, curt. “You’ll be staying here. It will reduce the likelihood that the Bratva will try to hit us at the funeral, although I hope Viktor might have enough respect to hold back from that.”

“And what about me, here?” Cold fear winds through my belly and up my spine—has Luca decided I’m too much trouble? Would he rather the Bratva come for me here than put everyone else in danger again? And if that’s the case, why not just go ahead and hand me over?

“You’re not to leave the penthouse for any reason. My security will be doubled, and I’ll assign you a personal bodyguard.”

“Until when?” I can feel the panic rising. “This wasn’t the deal, Luca. I’m supposed to be given my own apartment, so we don’t have to stay here together—”

“Until the Bratva are pushed out of the territory.” He strides towards me, that hard glint in his green eyes. He looks as handsome as ever—sometimes I think, traitorously, that he looks the most attractive when he’s like this, cold and angry and almost terrifying, but hard and chiseled as if made from granite. This hard and cold man only burns hot when it comes to me, only ever softens a little when we touch.

But I can’t think like that. I can’t think about him in any way that might make me want him more, let my guard down, feel things towards him that aren’t cautious, and even hate. I can’t allow myself to soften towards this man who has now become even more powerful than before, who might have to be and do even more awful things in order to keep it.

“How long will that take?” My voice trembles as much as I try to keep it from doing exactly that. I don’t want Luca to know how afraid I am—of him, of them, of all of this—but I can’t stop it.

He shrugs nonchalantly as if it doesn’t matter. “Who knows? Weeks? Months? Years? I can’t possibly know the answer to that, Sofia. They will be beaten back when they realize they can’t win, and no sooner than that. Viktor won’t give up easily.”

Panic floods me. I can feel my rational, logical thought slipping away in the face of being kept a virtual prisoner in this penthouse—however luxurious—for an undetermined amount of time. “No!” I exclaim, shaking my head and stepping back, trying to put some distance between us. “You promised, you told me if I married you that I’d be safe, that—”

“You will be,” Luca says patiently, but I can hear it eroding from his tone. “In time.”

“But you can’t tell me how much time!” I swallow hard, feeling the lump in my throat swell and choke me. “Rossi couldn’t even protect his wife, and now you want me to feel safe when you’re saying I can’t even leave this apartment?”

“Rossi is not the don now!” Luca thunders, taking two strides towards me. Before I can so much as try to dart around him, he scoops me up into his arms as if I weigh nothing at all, bridal-style. The irony of it isn’t lost on me, and I wriggle in his grasp, trying to squirm free as he carries me up the stairs. Halfway up, I almost manage to get loose, and Luca growls with frustration, a sound that sends a shiver down my spine that isn’t entirely unpleasant.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do these fights turn me on? I’m not winding him up on purpose—or am I? Luca’s anger both scares and arouses me, and I don’t understand it. It’s almost as if a part of me wants him to take control the way he did the night before our wedding, to make me feel the things I can’t allow myself to feel with him.

“It would serve you right if I pitched you over the side of this staircase,” Luca snarls, setting me down briefly. I think for a moment that he’s going to let me walk the rest of the way up. Instead, he just scoops me off of my feet once more, tossing me over his shoulder so that I’m draped over his back, staring at the gleaming hardwood stairs as he starts his ascent once more.

“Put me down!” I shriek, slamming one fist somewhere in the range of where I think his kidney might be. My legs flail, and I hope vaguely that one might connect with his balls, but Luca wraps an arm around my knees, holding them firmly to his chest. Something about that sends another shock of pleasure up my spine. I can feel to my horror that I’m starting to get more than a little turned on, the thin fabric of my panties clinging damply to my skin as my body flushes with heat.

“Not a chance,” Luca says flatly, carrying me straight towards the double doors that lead into his bedroom.

He deposits me unceremoniously onto the bed, and I spring up immediately, strands of my hair coming loose from my ponytail and floating around my pink face.

“I’m not fucking you again.” I lift my chin, hoping I look more sure about it than I am. I’m painfully aware of the huge bed behind me, the empty penthouse, and the fact that Luca could do anything he wanted to me—has the right, in his own mind, to do anything he wants to me. And watching him shrug casually out of his suit jacket isn’t helping. His muscular forearms flex as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, and I feel my mouth go dry as he undoes the top button of his shirt, revealing a sliver of chest that makes my knees feel a little weak.

I’m suddenly reminded vividly of our wedding night, of him circling around behind me as he started to undo my dress, of how different it could have been if I hadn’t told him to get it over with. What would he have done if I’d let it be something else? Would he have used his hands on me, like he did when he bent me over the couch? His mouth?

Oh god.Just the thought of that sends a wave of something I don’t totally understand through me, a tight feeling in my stomach that makes my skin prickle and flush.

Luca probably wouldn’t even do that. He likes having you under his power, not giving pleasure without getting some back.

“I’m not asking you to,” Luca says, raising an eyebrow, and I feel a flush of sudden embarrassment.

“You didn’t ask the first time, either,” I snap.

“Well, I’m not telling you to. Is that good enough for your virginal sensibilities? I thought I fucked those out of you last night.” He smirks. “Sofia, like I said in the hospital, I’m not interested in a poor lay. If I want to get my dick wet, I’ll do it with someone who actually knows what to do.”

And just like that, my humiliation feels complete. I don’t even bother trying to work out why his rejection feels worse than his demands. All I know is that my husband is, for some reason, pretending that he doesn’t even want me now that he’s had a taste, that one night with me turned him off completely.

“Then why did you drag me in here?” I cross my arms, glaring up at him in an effort to conceal the riot of feelings tangling up inside my chest. “What was the point?”

“The point, Sofia, is that you won’t have your own room any longer. You’ll sleep in here, with me, like a good wife should and where I can keep an eye on you. I can’t make certain that you’re safe if you’re down the hall. So you can move whatever things you like in here today, and leave the rest in your old room. They can stay there. The room won’t be used by anyone else.” He clears his throat, looking at me sternly. “If you sleep, it’s in here. If you take a shower, it’s in the master bathroom there. If you—”

“I get the idea,” I say quickly. “So what? I’m supposed to just stay locked up here, never leave, sleep next to you and be fine with it?”

Luca’s eyes glitter dangerously. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do, Sofia,” he says, his voice low and dark as he walks towards me. “Because I’m keeping you safe. I’m the don now. This family is under my control. I will do everything I can to ensure that nothing like what happened at the hotel ever happens again. But I can’t focus on that if I’m too busy making sure my little hellion of a wife obeys my fucking orders.” He grinds the last words out, punctuating each one, and I can see his anger rising.

It terrifies and excites me all at once, and I don’t understand it at all.

“I’m not one of your little soldiers,” I hiss, unable to resist the urge to fight back. “I don’t take your orders.”

Luca takes one more step forward, bringing his body very close to mine, and he looks down at me with that chiseled face, his green eyes dark and furious. His hand flies out, grasping my chin to tilt it up so that I can’t look away, and even though his touch isn’t painful, there’s no questioning the meaning behind it. “You will take my orders, Sofia. Or maybe you’d rather take something else?” He smiles coldly. “If fucking you into compliance is what I have to do, then perhaps it’s a duty I’ll have to take on. Just like protecting you. Unpleasant, but necessary. Maybe we should find out if your mouth is any better at pleasing me.”

He’s lying.I know he is. I’d felt him inside of me, felt the way he’d lost control at the end, his mouth devouring mine as his hands roved over my body, his cock hard and throbbing as he came. I know he enjoyed it. But for some reason, he’s bent on insisting that he doesn’t want me, that sex with me is distasteful to him.

“No.” I swallow hard, wrenching my chin out of his grasp and backing away. If there’s one thing I know I don’t want, it’s Luca fucking me while acting as if he doesn’t want it. That would make it so much worse. It’s confusing enough the way he makes me feel without complicating it even more. “Fine. I’ll stay here until the Bratva is no longer a threat.”

“Good.” Luca straightens, his expression pleased. “Now that you’re my wife, Sofia, and I’ve taken on my new responsibilities, it’s important that you know the high-ranking members of the family, their wives, and their positions. I’ll leave an iPad for you that Carmen can upload all of those details to—study it the way you would for an exam,” he adds, “because I’ll expect you to know every word. It’s important that you not embarrass me at any events we might have to attend together. Charity galas and the like.” He frowns. “I hope you aren’t going to argue with me about that?”

His voice is cold again, reserved and formal, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. My husband has so many different sides to him, and I don’t understand any of them—what makes him switch from one to another.

“No,” I say quietly.

“That’s good to hear,” Luca says, looking sideways at me as he strides to the closet. “I have a great deal of responsibility now, Sofia. I need a woman who can be at least a decent wife to this family and me.”

His cutting tone tells me everything that I need to know about how much faith he has that I can do that. And the truth is that he has every reason to feel that way—I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be his wife at all, let alone a good mafia wife. But for some reason, the way he said it made me feel even worse than before.

I sink onto the edge of the bed, sitting there speechlessly as Luca gathers up his suit and goes into the bathroom to change. When he emerges, he barely even looks at me. “I’ll have Carmen send that information for you to study. I’ll ask you about it when I return.” He glances over at me then, his expression flat and emotionless. “Don’t try anything stupid, Sofia.”

And then he strides out, leaving me there without another word, a goodbye, or anything else. It underscores more than ever what a sham this marriage is, how behind closed doors it’s nothing but a lie, one constructed to protect me that might not even be able to do that now.

When I hear the front door shut and I know I’m truly alone, I can’t help myself. The weight of everything that’s happened in the past days comes crashing down, and I roll over onto my side on the bed, burying my face in my arms.

And just like that, I burst into tears.