Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(102)

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Rey





I’m sipping from my champagne flute when Quinn crashes through the front door, hollering my name.

Standing in the kitchen with Sloane and me, Declan smiles. “Ah. The groom has arrived.”

Eyes wild, his color high, Quinn skids around the corner and makes a beeline for me.

Sloane says, “Man, he’s intense.”

“You have no idea. Oh, hi, honey.”

Sloane removes the champagne flute from my hand an instant before Quinn grabs me in a bear hug and crushes me against his chest.

His heart pounds against mine. His big arms tighten around my ribs until I can barely breathe.

I laugh, hugging him back. “Long time no see, Dr. Jekyll. Or is it Mr. Hyde? I can never remember.”

Against my neck, he says gruffly, “Viper.”

I whisper, “It’s Antonia Octavia Flavius to you, gladiator.”

A shudder runs through his chest. He hugs me tighter.

Declan clears his throat. “We’ll give you two a minute.”

When Quinn finally releases me from the bear hug, we’re alone in the kitchen. Leaning against him, I smile at the expression of adoration, hope, and dread on his face.

“You’re an emotional wreck, dear husband.”

He swallows. He licks his lips. He says, “Husband,” as if he’s not sure he heard me correctly.

Stroking his beard, I say, “So there’s this part in all my romance books that’s called the black moment. Heard of it? No, of course you haven’t. Cavemen don’t spend much time reading. The black moment is when all seems lost, like the couple can never work out their problems and it’s the end of the road for them. Are you paying attention? You seem to be spending a lot of time staring at my cleavage.”

“I’m listening,” he says in a thick voice while staring at my cleavage.

I sigh. “Anyway. In real life, people do this thing called communicating. Now, I know you’ve heard of that, because you’ve worn my ears out doing that exact thing. Except for some reason, you decide at a very important juncture in our relationship that you’d rather storm off and break things than talk to me.”

He thunders, “I didn’t storm! And I didn’t break anything!”

I pet his beard and smile at him, my insane Irish mobster with the beautiful hazel eyes.

“There’s no need to rupture my eardrums, dear. As I was saying. The black moment. I don’t want to have one, because this isn’t a romance novel, it’s real life. So if there are any questions you’d like to ask about what happened in Declan’s office or thoughts you’d like to share—in a normal volume—please do so.”

I go up on my toes and press a soft kiss to his lips. “Because I have a date with a gladiator later, and I really hope he shows up.”

He exhales and folds himself around me again, burying his face in my hair.

“I take it that’s a no,” I murmur, stroking my hands up his back. “But just so we’re clear, Quinn, whatever happens next, I want you by my side. Marriage license or not, contract or not, head of the Cosa Nostra or not, I want you.”

I laugh softly. “You and your superior gladiator seed with which I’d like to make babies.”

He groans. He hugs me harder. Then he whispers into my ear, “Five of them.”

“You ready for that?”

“I’ve been ready since the first second I laid eyes on you.”

“Good answer. Time to kiss me now, Quinn.”

He pulls away, his eyes shining and his expression one of pure devotion. “Are you going to always be this bossy now that you’re in charge of the Cosa Nostra?”

My smile grows into a grin. “Oh, I’m going to be the worst.”

With a chuckle, Quinn lowers his head and kisses me.

It’s soft, deep, and everything I could ever ask for. It feels like a promise made, a promise stronger than any signature on a legal document or vow spoken in front of four hundred witnesses in a church.

It feels like a field of flowers opening their buds to the sun after a long winter.

It feels like coming home.





That night, I meet with the four heads of the other families.

Aldo, Tomasi, and Alessandro greet me with respectful handshakes and smiles. Massimo greets me the same way, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

I’ll have to be careful with that one. He’s just as selfish as Gianni, but far more clever.

We spend three hours discussing the past, present, and future of the Cosa Nostra in the States. In addition, Alessandro provides me with a digital file of all the evidence they collected about Gianni’s betrayals. Nobody apologizes for his death or offers me condolences on the loss of my brother.

I didn’t expect such pleasantries. All made men know the price of disloyalty.

Made women know, too.

Blood in, blood out. It’s been our way of life for centuries.

There’s a formal swearing-in ceremony. I’m given a gold signet ring bearing the family crest to wear. It’s too large for my pinky, so I wear it on the index finger of my right hand.

It still has Gianni’s blood on it.

I decide on the spot I’ll never clean it off.