Bratva Vows Complete Box Set: A Dark Mafia Romance

by SR Jones

  “He got me out of there. He told the thugs he was with, the mob guys, I was his cousin. We look alike, and it wasn’t a stretch. He seemed livid enough for it to be true. He got me out of there and kept me with him. At first, I was terrified, waiting for the moment he’d want … that from me. But it never came. After a couple weeks, he finally had papers for me and told me he’d take me home. I told him I had no home. A local crime family had wanted our land, and they’d killed my parents for it and taken me. Something about what I said affected him, I didn’t know why then; I do now.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. Not my story to tell. I will say one thing. He rescued me because I reminded him of his sister, and he didn’t want to see me left there. He never tried to touch me or get any sort of payment from me. When he said I needed to go home, I begged to stay with him. He was moving to the UK, he said, and it wouldn’t work. I begged again. At this point, I only felt safe with him. I knew he’d never try to touch me sexually, and I also knew he was a stone-cold killer. I figured if I became important to him in another way, then he would keep me safe. So I became his assistant, his housekeeper. You name it, I did it, and I made sure his life ran smoothly. Over time, he did develop real feelings for me, but I did for him too. I love him, like a brother. I love him more than anyone else I have left alive in this world.”

  My mind begins to whir. Maybe I can do the same? Make him feel for me, have sympathy for me, and eventually love me so he keeps me safe too. A hitman with a platonic harem he protects. The idea makes me smile.

  There’s a flash of movement at the other end of the pool, and I turn my head to see Andrius in loose swim shorts walking to the far edge of the pool.

  Holy hell!

  The smile drips from my face as my mouth runs dry.

  He’s astonishing. If I thought he was handsome in his suit, if I thought he had a good body underneath all that expensive cloth, it’s nothing compared to the reality.

  He’s so big, but because of his height, his bulk looks good, elegant almost. He must weigh about two hundred and forty or fifty pounds. All of it muscle from what I can see. He’s tan, his skin shimmering gold in the afternoon light, his dark hair swept back from his striking face.

  Arms raised above his head for a moment, he executes a perfect dive, and he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  A low chuckle to my side has me turning to Justina.

  “I might not want to have sex with him, but I have eyes. I can appreciate beauty, and Andrius is one of the most handsome men I have ever seen. I can tell you think so too.”

  “He is,” I say. “Doesn’t mean I want anything to happen between us. I want him to let me go.”

  She sighs. “You don’t, darling. You won’t be safe if he lets you go. Here, you are. You might look at him like you want to lick him all over, and he might look at you like he wants to devour you, but he won’t touch you if you don’t want it.”

  Her words scare me because I’m not sure I can say hand on my heart I wouldn’t want it. I shouldn’t want it, not in the position I am. Not with who he is and what he does to make money. But you’d have to be a nun not to notice his hotness, and that story! How he rescued Justina, I know it doesn’t override all the bad deeds he’s done, but it makes me see him in a different light.

  Oh God, I’ve been here barely two days, and I’m already starting to try to see good things in my captors. How do I know the story Justina has told me is true? She might be a liar. She might be his lover but enjoy playing mind games. Who knows? Some humans have no end to their depravity.

  “I still can’t believe I’m in this mess,” I say and blink away the tears starting to form.

  “How come you have no family? Andrius told me that Allyov specifically said you have no one to notice you are missing.”

  “It’s true,” I tell her. Not sure why I am baring my soul to her when I don’t trust her totally. “My father died, and I have no other family. I moved north for a fresh start a while back, and I suppose I haven’t made friends yet. I do have a friend back home, in London. Aliya, but she’s on a year’s working holiday in Borneo.”

  I laugh then because you literally couldn’t invent better circumstances for a kidnapper to use to his advantage.

  Water splashes below us, and Andrius lifts his upper body out of the pool, resting his head on his golden, muscular arms as he looks at Justina.

  Grey eyes are framed by inky black lashes as water droplets run down his cheeks. I could look at him all day.

  I’ve always loved beauty. I like to draw, and because of it I notice the beauty in people, buildings, landscapes. The sweeping lines of a green field, the pleasing symmetry of Georgian architecture, the captivating intrigue of fathomless grey eyes.

  I notice it all, drink it up.

  I’m drowning in beauty here. Andrius, Justina, this house, the grounds. It’s all so astonishingly gorgeous, and yet it’s a façade. Beauty built on ugliness.

  Justina’s terrible past that, if true, must scar her in untold ways. The things Andrius has done to be able to afford this slice of heaven must leave their own marks on him.

  I wish the world could be kinder. And at that moment, I miss my father with an ache so sharp it takes my breath away. He was a kind man. A gentle man. He was loved by those who visited the bakery he made his breads and cakes for. They paid him a good wage because the owners knew talent when they tasted it.

  How I wish he were here. My father may not have been beautiful on the outside, his face was craggy and lined, but he was on the inside.

  I push memories of my father away because they won’t help me now. I need to stay calm and focused and try to figure out what the hell to do to get myself out of this mess I’ve made.

  The rest of the day passes in a blur. I can’t get my head around being here in this amazing house, as a prisoner. I can’t come to terms with what Justina told me. It’s so horrifying and makes me want to weep for her, but then I get these awful moments of doubt. I hate myself for not believing her one hundred percent, but this whole situation is so fucked up.

  By the time it’s early evening, all my worrying has given me a terrible headache. I’ve already changed into pajamas and go find Andrius to ask if he minds if I go to bed when I’ve finished the current chapter of my book.

  “Of course not, you are free to come and go as you please.”

  I can’t help the tiny snort of derision at his words. He scowls.

  “Listen to me, Violet.” For the first time there’s real anger behind his words, and I do as he suggests. I sit in a chair opposite him and listen. “I want you here about as much as you want to be here. I wasn’t the one who played games by hiding my beauty and then revealing it to Allyov. You can’t tell me you didn’t want his attention. I don’t know why. Maybe you wanted to be his mistress; I know it pays well. Perhaps you simply saw how the land lies and decided you’d like a better job, maybe to be a hostess, welcoming diners rather than a lowly waitress. I don’t pretend to know what went on in your mind, but I do know you were the one who got Allyov to notice you. This is on you.”

  I want to argue because it’s not on me. Talk about fucking victim blaming, but he’s not done. “And Allyov, of course, he is to blame too. The people who are not to blame are myself and Justina. However, here we are. The front door to this house has a lock and an alarm with a code. I’m not about to give you the code because I don’t give it to anyone other than Justina. If you want me to open it right now and let you go though, I will. Of course, it puts me in danger, Justina too, but by far the greatest danger is for you. Because if you think Allyov wouldn’t find you in a heartbeat, think again. He would find you, and he would sell you to someone in the Middle East. He’s a man of his word.”

  He takes a sip of the whiskey he holds in one hand.

  Tonight, dressed in dark jeans and a Henley, sat by the low fire he has lit in the so-called den, a room bigger than my apartment, he looks de
vilishly handsome. The jeans hug his powerful thighs, and for a moment I am envious of the blue material and all it gets to hold. The shirt shows off his build by lovingly clinging to all the contours of his big arms.

  “I’m assuming you aren’t working for him, moving forward,” he continues. “Which, for all I know, you could be. I don’t think so, though, because why do the whole, don’t look at me, charade if you were one of his girls. It doesn’t make sense? Nothing about you makes sense, Violet. So here we are. You are in my home, and I don’t know who you are or why you are here. I am being incredibly fucking generous taking you at face value. I am treating you as if you really are an innocent little waitress who Allyov grabbed from the streets to give to me as a gift.”

  He puts his glass down and crosses the room where he hunkers in front of my chair, until we’re face to face.

  “If I find out you’re anything else, a spy perhaps sent here to get information. You will wish you’d never seen me or heard my name.”

  Oh, shit. I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making me feel as if I’m going to choke.

  He raises his thumb and strokes it down my cheek. “I don’t hurt women or children, but you come into my home as a spy to give information on me to my enemies, and all bets are off. The rules apply to innocent women and children. It would be in your best interests to tell me now if you are working for someone and here in any capacity that puts myself or Justina in danger. Understand this, I promised her safety, and I will keep my promise at all costs.”

  I swallow again, finding the strength to speak. The words are shaky, and my tone weak. “I swear to you, I’m not spying on you.”

  I can’t lie to him; something tells me he will know. I lie by omission though, because I’m not about to tell him I was trying to get into a position where I could kill his boss, before I panicked and decided to run. A day too late, sadly. I doubt that will help me any. However, I can look this terrifying man in the eyes and swear to him, truthfully, that I am not here to do him any harm whatsoever.

  “I swear, Andrius, honestly, I’m not here to spy on you, and I don’t work for Allyov.” The very idea has me letting out a gasping laugh as tears slide down my cheeks.

  The way he’s looking at me is almost soft, his low voice gentle when he threatened me. His grey eyes are oddly warm in this light. They almost make me want to confess. To tell him I did a stupid thing; I thought I could get to his boss and hurt him the way he hurt my family. In my little fantasy, I will cry, and Andrius will tell me it’s all okay. Except, Andrius won’t do that at all. He may have a rule, no women or children, but if he finds out I was going to attempt to harm his boss, he’ll most likely give me back to said boss to do with as he sees fit.

  “Don’t cry.” He once more touches my cheek with his thumb.

  I want to lean into his touch. To move forward into the safety it offers.

  There is something magnetic about him, beyond his good looks. A calmness that comes with the utter control he owns over his surroundings. I’ve noticed his movements are often tight, not exaggerated. He doesn’t swagger like lesser men might. He doesn’t gesticulate when he talks or shout. In fact, the frown he gave Allyov the moment I was given to him is about the most emotion I’ve seen Andrius display.

  “I believe you,” he says with sincerity. “I’ve been thinking about this all day, and it doesn’t add up, you working for Allyov, but in my line of work, you cannot be too careful. Ever. So as I say, you can leave if you wish, but you’re in much more danger out there than you are in here. No one will do you harm here. You can move around the house as you desire, except for my study. It’s locked, anyway. And my bedroom, of course. Other than that, feel free to do as you will. I know you’re scared, but I won’t hurt you. I might be a man who takes the lives of others, but they are scum, not people who this earth will miss. You are not scum, Violet. If what you tell me is true, you don’t deserve bad treatment. As far as anything else goes, I might want you, but I won’t touch you unless you want me too. I’m not a monster.”

  He stands then goes back to his chair, taking his whiskey and sipping at it once more before he puts it down.

  He wants me?

  He. Wants. Me.

  The words exhilarate me in a way they shouldn’t. I understand why they do. It’s because I want him too. More than I’ve ever wanted a man before. Not only because of his looks, but because he’s such an enigma to me. I want to see if I can crack that impenetrable shell he wears.

  I can’t go there, though. I can’t let myself do anything with Andrius. I’m not an experienced, worldly woman. I’ll probably end up falling for him somehow, and then he’ll leave me or let me down … or betray me. It’s what happens to me. People always leave. They get hurt or die or they just … abandon me.

  My family was killed, my father died far too young. The woman who semi-adopted me as her honorary granddaughter when we moved to London simply abandoned me and moved away when I was thirteen, breaking my heart in the process. My best friend is out of touch in some jungle so far from civilization she can’t even post to social media. She left without a backward glance, despite knowing I had no one else. The boy I gave my virginity to slept with my other best friend, ending both relationships. Yeah, people let me down; it’s what they do.

  I sigh and open my book, trying to focus on the words.

  To believe a hitman will be the one to stand by me is utter fantasy.

  Chapter 7

  Andrius

  She sips at her tea, reads her book, and studiously avoids looking at me. I’m not stupid, I don’t think she’s what or who she says she is. Her story doesn’t add up, but I don’t believe she works for Allyov. When she said she meant no harm to me, I only saw truth in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Unless she’s a brilliant actress, then she isn’t spying on me and reporting back to the boss man.

  Christ, who is she?

  I study her as she nibbles on her plump lower lip and flips the page of her book. She’s turning the pages too slowly, so she’s either not taking it in and re-reading whole passages, or she’s simply pretending to read while her mind turns. She’s right to fear me.

  My code is one I won’t break under normal circumstances, but I will if her presence here threatens Justina. She needs to be protected at all costs.

  I remember the moment I first saw her. It was in a dingy whorehouse, the sort of place that depresses the fuck out of me. I can’t understand men who have other options frequenting those places. The old, the lonely, the broken, sure. I’ve never had trouble finding female company, and I love to fuck, so if I couldn’t get a woman, would I trawl the back street whorehouses? Maybe. I like to think not, but who knows. The guys I had gone with were married though and their wives were nice.

  Not wanting anything to do with hiring one of the poor women made to work there, I had sat at the bar and ordered a whisky as the two mobsters I’d accompanied chose their poison for the evening. They’d headed upstairs when the madam asked me if I was sure I didn’t want some company. I had given the room a cursory sweep, simply to seem half interested, and my heart stopped dead in my chest.

  Anastasia.

  In front of me was a woman who was the spitting image of my sister, or rather how my sister would have looked if she’d been allowed to live to be a young woman in her early twenties. Same dark hair, same grey/blue eyes, olive skin, striking bone structure.

  Fuck.

  I felt hot as the room seemed to tip, and for the first time in many years, since being a ten-year-old boy hiding his baby sister in a closet and hearing his family being slaughtered, I felt terror. Terror that I was seeing a ghost. Terror I was going to lose my mind.

  Instead, I took a massive swig of the whiskey and let the burn calm me, then I stood and grabbed the girl, saying I wanted her for an hour.

  When I got to her room, she’d turned dead eyes on me and asked me what I wanted. I began to ask her questions. Why was she there? Did she have papers? Then I’d promised her
I was going to save her. It took a lot of money, and a few threats too, for the madam to give her up. I offered way more than Justina would be worth and said if she didn’t give her to me, I’d shoot up the place, wiping it off the map. The Madam saw sense.

  I’d left with Justina immediately.

  Except when I must travel for certain business, the unsavory kind, she doesn’t leave my side.

  She’s not my sister, but in saving her I feel as if I tipped the scales back into balance a touch.

  Violet stands and makes her excuses, dragging me from thoughts of the past. Says she’s ready for bed and is exhausted. She’s wearing loose pajama style pants that she changed into at some point and a strappy top. It’s the sort of everyday, unglamorous thing women everywhere wear. On Violet though, it may as well be the world’s sexiest lingerie. I want to rip the damn top off with my teeth.

  “Night, krysva divhyna.” I feel free to call her pretty girl, knowing she won’t have a clue what the words mean.

  She shoots me a puzzled look and whispers goodnight.

  After I finish my drink, I check the doors, the locks, the alarm. I’m a paranoid fucker, but I know how many come to an early death in this life.

  Satisfied, I climb the stairs, pausing outside Violet’s door for a moment before going into my own room and firmly shutting the heavy wood on any ideas I might be having of joining the petite blonde in her big bed.

  I hope she likes the room. It’s fucking opulent as shit, because Justina decorated it. Full of deep red velvets and gold braiding. It’s not to my taste. A lot of the rooms I’ve kept simple, almost bare, to let the beauty of the house speak for itself, but I wanted Justina to have a say in some of the spaces. This is her home as well.

  Justina sleeps upstairs, in one of the rooms on the top floor with an en-suite. Again, it’s decorated to her taste. Her bedroom has a four-poster bed with draped purple curtains hanging from the wood. She placed a chaise lounge by the window, which like the others in the house is low with a stone ledge.