Page 21 of His Savage Vow
I like it.
Over the next few days, I find myself enjoying showing Constance what I know about fighting. More than enjoying it. I fucking crave it, which is even worse.
It’s dangerous how much I like having her this close, herbreath brushing my collarbone when I guide her motions, her small body pressed against mine when I correct her stance.
I shouldn’t want her.
And worse,I’m starting to want her enough to forget that she doesn’t want me back. That she fucking hates me, blames me for her father’s death.
She hasn’t shown even the slightest sign of seeing me the way I see her. She keeps a polite distance, like she’s always one heartbeat from bolting. Hell, she won’t even join me for fucking breakfast.
If I ever tried to make a move, she might be the first woman in my life to tell me no.
A ridiculous thought, but it lands with a weight I hate acknowledging.
I lose track of how much time has passed in today’s lesson until my uncle Leonard comes down the stairs with several bottles of water and a tray of sandwiches.
Constance is angry, unsure, grieving, and still learning faster than anyone I’ve ever trained.
“I thought you two might be getting hungry,” Leonard says as he sets the tray down on the table.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to go to the trouble of bringing it down yourself.” I clap him on the arm as I walk over and open one of the water bottles. I pass it to Constance, then grab another one for myself. “Constance, I don’t know if I’ve introduced you to Leonard. He’s also my uncle, on my father’s side, and my consigliere. Enzo, my second you’ve already met, is his son.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Leonard.” Constance smiles easily at him as she picks up one of the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches. “Thank you for the snack. I didn’t realize it was already past lunch time.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Leonard returns her grin. “You two letme know if you need anything. I’m going to run some errands in the city, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Take care, Leonard,” I reply absently while watching Constance.
She’s easily settled into my life like she belongs here, which is something I hadn’t planned for.
I don’t get attached. I don’t let women linger. Yet here she is, and I’m the one fighting the impulse to reach for her several times a day.
My cell phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. I pull it out of my back pocket and stare at the caller ID.
“Il Diavolo Bianco?” Constance asks as she reads the name on the screen over my shoulder.
I wave a hand to silence her, then accept the call. “Salvatore Bianchi, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I greet my counterpart in New Jersey.
“Maximo, how have you been my boy? It feels like we’ve barely spoken since your father’s funeral all those years ago.”
“Things have been going well,” I lie smoothly. The Bianchi family were occasional allies if there was a profit to be made. More often their risky business dealings have created headaches for my family. My father warned me long before I took over for him as the head of our family to be wary of them.
“Maximo, you put on such a brave face, but I’ve heard rumblings that you’re having some problems. That business with the restaurant,Monroe’s, burning down and that poor man being murdered right under your nose.”
“Is that why you’re calling?” I demand. “Do you know something about what happened?”
“Only what I’ve heard on the street. Word is the Chinese are going to make a play for your businesses in Washington Heights, and they hit Monroe’s to intercept a drug shipment.”
It takes me a moment to realize that the squeaking soundI’m hearing is my teeth grinding. I try to relax my jaw enough to speak. “The Chinese haven’t left their parlors on their side of town in over a decade. Why would they try to make a move against me now?”
“Who can say?” Salvatore drawls, amusement dripping down the line. “They’ve always been enterprising, and maybe they think that your push for respectability in the city has made you weak. You have been bankrolling politicians, making legitimate business moves, and leaving the more sordid elements of our business to your capos.”
“My push for respectability has made me weak?” I repeat, the ice in my voice making Constance take a step back from where she had been trying to listen in on the call. “Are those your words, or is that something else ‘you’ve heard’?” I grit out.
“Calm down, Maximo,” Salvatore says patronizingly. “These are just things I’ve been told, and I wanted to check in with you to make sure you’re aware of what’s going on in your city.”
“I appreciate your concern, Salvatore. Tell whoever you’ve been hearing from that I have things well in hand. If ‘they’ have any misgivings about my commitment to my holdings, let them know that I will be tracking down everyone who has wronged me, and dealing with them the way I dealt with Javier Castilla.”
