Page 8 of Cruel Vows

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MASSIMO

The next morning, I head straight for my father’s study with one aim in mind. Convince the hardheaded son of a bitch to consider reopening negotiations with Axel King. After what happened last time, he swore we wouldn’t touch them with a barge pole. Despite my dislike of the Devil’s Alpha MC, and Axel in particular, I will renegotiate with this waste of space if it means we secure more capital for the famiglia. The war is depleting our funds and another revenue stream would be ideal.

I knock on the study door, which is left ajar.

“Who is it?” he calls.

“Massimo,” I reply.

There’s a few rustling sounds of paper before he says, “Come in.”

I enter and notice the study is messier than usual. Papers are everywhere. “Are you okay, Father?”

“Yes, just drowning under paperwork.” The darkness under his eyes suggests he’s not sleeping well.

“Perhaps I can help with it?”

His throat bobs. “Perhaps.” He shakes his head. “That’s not why you came here, though. How can I help you?” He gestures to the armchair opposite him.

I sit, leaning forward with my hands clasped in front of me. “I think it would be wise to reopen negotiations with the motorcycle club.”

He straightens, arching a brow. “You can’t be serious after Axel disrespected you and our family?”

“We’re at war and a much needed revenue stream would be helpful.”

Father runs a hand across the back of his neck, gazing down at his desk. “They’re scum and we don’t deal with scum.”

I nod. “In normal times, I wouldn’t even contemplate it, but we’re hemorrhaging cash on this war. Axel is desperate. He needs supply because the Irish keep letting him down.”

The Russians have hit the Callaghan Clan hard, stealing their product and putting them in the shit. They haven’t been able to honor Axel’s contract. We may as well profit from it, especially since tensions have flared with the Russians. We need all the capital we can get.

Silence falls between us for a few moments as he thinks over my proposal. A proposal that has an ulterior motive, since negotiations with Axel mean I’m likely to see Paisley again. He’s her boss at the bar I’m going to meet him at.

“Very well.” He claps his hands together. “Can I leave you to negotiate the terms of a deal?”

Relief spreads through me as the tension leaves my shoulders. “Of course.” That’s exactly what I wanted him to say. “I’ll let you know once I’ve come to an agreement with him.”

Father sighs. “Be careful, though. If he disrespects you again, don’t let it go this time.” His gaze is fierce. “Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” I say, standing.

“Massimo,” he says, before I turn away.

“Have you given any consideration to the list I gave you a fortnight ago?”

My jaw clenches as the tension returns. As he’s talking about the list of potential mafia princesses that gets his approval for me to marry. “No.” I shake my head. “I’ve told you that I don’t want an arranged marriage.”

“Foolish boy,” he growls, shaking his head. “The Morrone family has had arranged marriages for centuries. It worked for me and your mother.”

I cross my arms over my chest, as there’s no way in hell I’m backing down on this. “When I marry, it will happen on my own terms.”

He stands, glaring at me angrily. “We’re at war and it’s times like these when stability is important. The famiglia need to have a certain future with a strong bloodline of heirs to ensure the enterprise can be passed on for generations to come.” A muscle in his forehead flexes. “I need you to marry within the next six months, Massimo.”

“This is bullshit. Why me when I have two other brothers?”

That angers him as he stands and walks around the desk and grabs my shoulders, shaking me a little. “You are my heir. The next to inherit the throne and I want you to produce an heir sooner rather than later. Give it some thought. If you don’t select a bride in six months, I’ll have to select one for you.”

There’s no way I’m letting him pick, as he’d choose Caterina Russo. “I’ll give it some thought.” It’s easier to just promise to think about it rather than argue.

“Good.” He releases my shoulders. “I hope you do, for both our sakes.” He waves his hand dismissively and I walk out of his study, my blood pulsing through my veins. I bow my head in respect and then head out of his office.

I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I don’t see Leo and slam right into him.

“Fuck, watch where you’re going, Mas.”

I clench my fists by my side. “Don’t start on me or I will beat the shit out of you.”

He lifts a brow. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Father and his fucking demands.”

He chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder. “What’s he want now?”

“He just told me I have to pick a wife in six months or he’s going to pick for me.” I blow out a breath. “I’d rather fucking die than be married to Caterina, and you know that’s who he’d pick.”

“Of course it is. He’s best friends with her dad.” His eyes narrow. “I think secretly they’ve had you two destined for each other since before you could walk.”

I rub a hand across the back of my neck, as he’s probably right. Federico Russo is my father’s closest friend and Ally, and they’re as thick as thieves. “Well, I’ll pick anyone over her.” I can’t understand why the moment I say that I picture Paisley’s beautiful face in my mind. Perhaps because I’ve never felt an attraction like I have with her. It was magnetic.

All I know is that I have to see her again. Saturday feels too far away, as it’s Tuesday now.

“Do you want to go to go to Secret Obsession and blow off some steam?” Leo asks.

Secret Obsession is my father’s upmarket strip club. I glance at the time on my Rolex. “It’s only ten o’clock in the morning.”

Leo smirks. “Who says it’s ever too early to drink and get a lap dance?”

I shake my head. “I wish I could, but I’ve got to meet Lorenzo at the docks.”

His face falls.

“I can meet you there after for lunch. Twelve thirty, any good?”

He smiles. “Sure, see you there.”

I walk away and head out of the house, knowing that the idea of going to Secret Obsession isn’t half as enticing as it normally is.

Perhaps it’s because I can’t stop obsessing over a certain red-head beauty.

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