Bitter Vows: A Twisted Arranged Marriage Romance (Crimson Falls Duet Book 1)

by Dani René

  Thankfully, I enjoy spending time at the manor house, or I would be depressed having to spend time at home. Grace Bardot is a woman who no longer needs anything — no man, no friends, and certainly not the number of staff who work for her. She spends her days sipping gin and tonics in the sunshine while reading her favorite romance novels. The Bardot money is what they call old money. Because of Gran’s parents, she’s always lived a comfortable life, which afforded me one as well.

  The car comes to a stop, and the back door whooshes open where we’re met with the flashes of cameras, shouting press, and fans scream as my mother and father exit the vehicle. Stepping foot onto the plush red carpet, I attempt to ignore the shouts of my parents’ names as we make our way through the crowd, stopping a few times to allow the cameras to capture us.

  Finally, inside the enormous, gilded ballroom, my gaze flits around, hoping to find my best friend. It doesn’t take long for me to spot the sleek, raven hair in the crowd. The only woman here with her hair not pinned with diamonds and pearls.

  Leaving my folks to mingle, I make my way over to Aelin, who’s already giggling up a storm with some dashing man in a three-piece suit. A dark tie leads up to a smooth, angular jaw, pale skin, and full, pink lips.

  A squeal from beside me catches my attention before I meet his stare, and Aelin pulls me into a hug. “This is my best friend,” she gushes, and I finally find the eyes of the man, no, actually, the boy she’s talking to. He looks like he’s younger than us.

  “Nice to meet you,” he tells me, offering a hand which I accept before side-eyeing Aelin.

  “Can I talk to you?” I hiss at her. Glancing at the cute guy, I smile. “We’ll catch you later.” Pulling her through the crowd, we find the bar where I grab a flute of champagne for myself and one for her. “Are you crazy?”

  “What?” Her wide, golden-brown orbs shimmer with amusement.

  My gaze finds her boy-toy before I look at her again. “That guy isn’t even old enough to drink yet.” Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but laugh when she giggles playfully.

  “Oh come on, like you are? Also, I was having fun. His older brother is a hottie, so I did have a plan,” she tells me conspiratorially. I sip my drink, allowing my gaze to rove the room, taking in the faces of the men and women who are all draped in designer clothes and exquisite jewels. Aelin’s hand lands on my arm, her fingers wrapping around my wrist before she whisper-hisses, “Who is that?”

  “Who?” I turn to where she’s staring to be met with a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the film set of some rough motorcycle club movie. He doesn’t look like he fits in here with his leather jacket and black tee. His boots are dusty, his jeans fit too tight, hugging muscled thighs as he saunters deeper into the room. His midnight-black hair reminds me of my best friend’s, and his tanned skin speaks of someone who’s been outdoors in the full sun all day, every day.

  Dangerous. That’s the word to describe him.

  “Now that is a man,” Aelin murmurs more to herself than to me because I can’t drag my gaze away. Menace emanates from him as if he were wearing it like a cologne. But then he makes a beeline for my father, which has my mouth dropping open in shock. The two men seem to know each other, but Dad pales when his gaze lands on the stranger. “Uhm…” My best friend’s voice filters into nothing when my father disappears with said stranger into the hallway, talking heatedly as they go.

  “Uhm, is right,” I tell her, my attention now torn between catching up with Aelin or following Dad to find out what’s going on. My gaze snaps back to where my mother seems completely oblivious to everything as she laughs and flirts with someone in a suit who looks like he’s got one foot in the grave.

  The emcee announces that dinner will soon be served and requests everyone to take their seats. All the while through dinner, Dad’s face is a picture of pure dread. I lean over and whisper in his ear, “Are you okay?”

  He chuckles. “Of course I am.” The fake smile is back, lying to me directly to my face. It’s the second time in my life he’s done it, and my gut churns with unease. “Why don’t you enjoy your dinner, sweetheart?” he tells me, nudging my chin with his knuckles in a gesture that usually would calm me down. But after what I’ve witnessed, it leaves a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  3

  Lycan

  The paperwork is in place. There’s nowhere to run now because tonight, I’ll be meeting her. I’ve been flicking through her social media for a few days now, taking in every photo I can. I’ve devoured her with my hungry ogling, and my predatory fangs are ready to sink into the sweet, supple flesh of Scarlett Bardot.

  The one photo I’ve saved is of her in a beautiful red dress, the color of blood. The sleek, silky material hugs her curves like a second skin. Her long hair is draped over one shoulder in a thick, auburn braid. The thought of her with those flowing locks over her voluptuous tits makes my dick hard. She’s not skinny, with curves enough to grip and manhandle, but even so, I’m certain she’ll be able to bear children. All I need is one son.

  Horatio didn’t know what he was setting his daughter up for when he walked into my world and wanted to play with the big boys. The dollar signs in his eyes flashed as he learned about everything that Heaven could gift him, a place to delve into the darkest fantasy, but also a place you could lose your soul to the devil. To me.

  When Kahn arrived back from the gala, he told me exactly what Bardot had said; he gave Horatio the ultimatum. The payment will be his daughter’s hand in marriage.

  And then Kahn informed Horatio Bardot I will be bringing the contract to him personally. While we dine with the beauty, I’ll assess her to ensure she’s completely oblivious to who I am and why I’m there.

  I should have been at the gala to hammer the final nail in the coffin, but having my right-hand man do it, allowing me time to prepare the contract, was necessary. And I wanted to meet Scarlett in her home for the first time. Not at some fancy party that had nothing to do with me.

  Picking up the phone, I dial Alex’s number. Two rings later, I hear his voice. “Do you have news for me?” The eagerness in his tone is the only giveaway that he’s been waiting on me. It’s only been a few days since he called, but Kahn and the team moved quickly.

  “They walked into the convent, found a basement of fifteen girls, all new to the church. My men are looking into a chain of convents they’d been moved through posing as real churches. The nuns have young women join, all the while training them for more sinister futures. I have a few names. One, in particular, stands out.”

  “Lorenzo?” Alex asks, naming the person in question, no surprise in his tone. He knew we’d find it. He knew I would send Kahn to do this job, and that’s why he called me.

  “You realize this is going to blow up before the month is at its end?” I lean back in my chair, ignoring the paperwork I need to get through before dinner tonight. I have a couple of hours, but I’m intrigued to know why Alex really allowed me to take the lead with this.

  “That’s the idea. Once the Cartel knows we’re onto them, we’ll have started a blood war. Something I’m looking forward to because I want that man’s life in my hands, and when I finally get it, I’ll ensure to snuff it out.”

  And there it is, the underlying promise. There’s nothing I’ve ever done for the mafia that didn’t come with another hidden agenda, and this time it’s no different. I should feel used, but I enjoy when justice is found.

  “My man taking the lead on this won’t stop until he’s found Lorenzo,” I tell Alex. “If he does…”

  “I know. It’s not Lorenzo I want. Tell your team they have permission to take what they need, a pound of flesh, or more, but I want the leader.”

  Chuckling, I shake my head at his passion. Once, long ago, that was me. When they took my father’s life, and my brother sided with them instead of his blood. That’s why Darius and I no longer see eye to eye. He believed their lies about our father, and I, being the eldest son, took on the res
ponsibility left to me. “You’ll get him. My men won’t step on any toes. I can assure you of that, Carnevali.”

  “Good. I’m flying home tonight. I may have to visit Heaven for an evening of decadent play before I get back to LA.” I can hear the smile in his voice. The temptation of spending a few hours in my club’s exclusive back rooms has become a staple to most Made Men in this city.

  “I’m not in New York for another few days, but when you’re at JFK, let me know. I’ll have one of my cars collect you and bring you straight to the club. You can have a quiet evening, or you can choose any one of the women who are regulars.”

  “Only one?” He laughs, and I realize he’s always been one to partake in a ménage scene, or even three women, with him enjoying the spoils.

  “Well, you know you’re welcome to anything in any one of my clubs.” Pushing to my feet, I grab my jacket, realizing the time. “I have to head out. Important meeting tonight, and I can’t be late.”

  “Of course. See you soon,” Alex tells me before hanging up, leaving me to my thoughts of this evening’s festivities. Pocketing my cell phone, I grab my keys and wallet before leaving the office, locking the door behind me. When I reach the club floor, I find Sawyer, one of the men working with Kahn.

  The tall, ex-marine has been with me for almost five years, learning the ins and outs of the underground export business the Shaw name runs. When I took over from my father, I knew I needed men I could trust.

  “Mr. Shaw,” he greets when I near him as he settles himself on a stool at the bar. The club isn’t busy, a handful of clients have made themselves comfortable in the booths, and the sleek, silver bar, which curves like a horseshoe, is empty but for Sawyer.

  “I’m heading back to Crimson Falls,” I tell him. “Can you stay to close up?”

  He nods. “Of course.” There’s a rigidness to him, cold, closed off, and I wonder briefly if he’s ever had the love of a woman. He doesn’t play in the club, he’s never mentioned coming home from Iraq to anyone, and when we’ve spent time together in meetings with the team, his focus has been laser sharp no matter which of the women I employ would stroll in, needing something from me.

  “Good.” I move past him, making my way to the garage where my shiny, raven-colored Cadillac Escalade waits. I settle back in the driver’s seat as I start the engine, and the speakers play a soft melody. The gentle voice of Ruelle comes through as she sings “Find You” and I can’t help but smile.

  It’s time to meet my future wife. Only, she doesn’t know about me. She doesn’t realize her life is about to change.

  The streets are busy for this late, but I glide through the city as I take the highway out to Seattle’s northern suburbs, where Bardot lives with his family. A man with the means to live anywhere in the world, but he chooses my city. As much as I love the Big Apple, it’s only one of many venues I consider elite. Seattle has taken my heart and allowed me to play when I need to without having to form long-term connections with women.

  But Horatio is one of the reasons I haven’t left Seattle yet. He knew what he was doing when he bought the house just outside the bustling metropolis. The fact that my father trusted him angers me. The fact that he took from me only infuriates me further. The money he took hardly made a dent in my fortune; however, when someone takes something of mine, I believe it’s only fair to claim something of theirs in repayment.

  I’m pulling up to the Bardot mansion's wrought iron gates when my phone rings through the speakers. “Yes?” I answer, knowing it’s Kahn calling with news, and by the time the car winds up the long, paved driveway leading to a three-story house, my focus is on my eagerness to meet Scarlett Bardot.

  “I stumbled upon something you might want to know before you walk into the Bardot house tonight,” he tells me, his voice tense, the clipped tone of his words warning me that I’m not going to like the outcome of his investigations.

  Hitting the brakes, I say, “Tell me everything.”

  4

  Scarlett

  I haven’t been able to talk to Dad since the night of the charity gala. He’s been gone for a few days, and tonight is the first time he’s been home. The man he was talking to still has me on edge because I have no idea who he was. The stranger didn’t fit in, and he never returned when Dad did, which means the stranger was sent away.

  Only, I’m not sure if it was a friendly parting or not.

  Classical music drifts from the dining room as I make my way down the stairs. My parents must have guests over because I hear glasses clinking together and my mother’s laughter at something someone said. Whenever we have guests, it’s always like this. She puts on a show in front of them, but by the time they leave, she and Dad are at each other’s throats.

  The moment my sneakers hit the expensive Italian tiles, my mother’s voice rings out to me. “Scarlett, come in here for a moment, darling.” The fake tone of her voice has me rolling my eyes.

  My twenty-first birthday is coming up, and I told her I wanted to spend my summer with Gran before I fly to New York to start my internship. The excitement at finally moving out on my own has taken over, and I’ve been counting down the days until I’m free. Spending my life behind the opulent walls of the Bardot mansion has been stifling, and I’m more than ready to find my independence.

  It’s been difficult to accept that my future had been planned for me, even before I could walk. Just last year, my mother was convinced I would be married by the time I’m twenty-one, but she soon learned my desire was to work hard, build a company from the ground up, and not depend on a man to pay for everything.

  I reach our lavish entertainment area, which leads into the dining room and take it in. Decked in furniture which cost more than most people make in a year and dripping with a gilded chandelier, I find my parents both dressed to the nines, along with a man I’ve never met before.

  The moment I enter the room, his gaze snaps to mine, stealing the breath from my lungs at the luminosity of the jade color. A seemingly nonchalant glimpse lands on me, locking on mine, reminding me of the vacations Dad used to take me on to British Columbia. The lake house we had overlooked a thick forest, which was as dangerous as this man’s stare. The stranger’s dark hair matches his charcoal suit. The danger that he seems to exude fills the room with menace, but I tip my chin up, showing him an act of defiance. My mother and father may cower to the wealthy assholes who walk in here, but I won’t. My gaze tracks his silver button-up shirt because I need a reprieve from his intensity, but it doesn’t help distract me because his body is immaculate in form.

  Everything about this man seems put together for a reason. He doesn’t wear something for the sake of covering up. It’s been chosen specifically for him to lord over the people he’s around. His presence screams wealth, and when he looks at me, the corner of his mouth quirks slightly as if I amuse him.

  The heat in his gaze burns me from head to toe as he regards my outfit—sneakers, a black lace tank top, along with a pair of frayed denim shorts. My long, red hair has been straightened to the middle of my back, and my makeup is nonexistent since I didn’t expect us to have company.

  “There you are,” my mother says, a smile plastered on her face as she takes in my appearance with a slight scowl before she pastes on the fake smile. “Come here.” Her hand waves toward me, gesturing for me to close the distance, but with every step I take, the more I feel the stranger’s eyes raking over me. It’s almost as if he’s touching me.

  “Scarlett, this is Mr. Shaw,” Dad says, introducing the stranger to me. “He’s having dinner with us this evening.” There’s a hint of tension in my father’s voice, but he offers me a smile, which sets me at ease for the moment, but something else niggles at me. My dad is formidable, but the air in the room is thick with foreboding.

  The man in question, Mr. Shaw, locks his cool gaze on me and offers me a smile. His hand extends toward me. The moment I slip my fingers along his palm, electric currents shoot through my arm, but I can’
t pull away because his hold is like solid steel.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Scarlett,” he says, allowing my name to roll off his tongue like the smooth whiskey he’s drinking. His deep baritone and slight accent I can’t quite put my finger on, send tingles of awareness right through me—from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

  “Same here,” I answer in a whisper before he releases my hand and allows me to step back. The scent of him hangs in the air—cigars, and cinnamon. It is a strange combination, nothing like anyone I’ve come across before, especially since my dad and none of the men he considers friends have ever smoked in this house.

  “Shall we?” Mom breaks the silence with a nervous grin, and we all follow her to the dining room table, where I notice four places have been set. I didn’t plan on sitting with them, but it seems my presence is needed.

  I settle in beside Mom as she slides her chair forward. The two men take their seats, Dad, at the head of the table, while Mr. Shaw settles in opposite me. Even though I’m not usually a nervous person, this man sets my stomach tumbling as he takes me in. It’s almost as if he’s assessing me for something.

  Dinner is served moments later. The fragrance of spicy tomato soup and fresh, warm bread fills my nostrils, but even that can’t wash away the scent of Mr. Shaw.

  “Tell me, Scarlett,” he speaks as I lift the spoon, scooping up the red liquid. “What is it you would like to accomplish in life, or better yet, what is your career choice?” Intrigue glints in his eye. Assessing me, he smiles, tipping his head to the side, and I wonder if he does it so he doesn’t look as scary. But it only makes him seem more sinister in his appraisal of me. He reminds me of a dangerous animal, watching its prey, stalking until it’s time to strike.