Vow (Andino + Haven Book 2)

by Bethany-Kris

  Still so beautiful.

  “Still mine,” he murmured.

  Haven’s eyes flashed with something unknown, but she said nothing. Andino didn’t really need her to. He was quick to pull her up from the floor.

  Andino had Haven backed against the wall in the next breath, and his mouth descended on hers as his hand slipped under the waistband of her panties. She was so wet and fucking warm under his fingertips.

  Slippery, needy flesh.

  Fuck.

  The sounds she made when his fingers stuffed inside her tight cunt, and his mouth latched onto that spot on her neck that she loved so much was raw. She always made the best sounds.

  All it took was the feeling of her wet pussy clenching around his fingers, and his name in her mouth, and his semi-hard cock was at full attention once more. He needed all her sounds like he needed the air in his lungs.

  And then the begging started.

  “Please. Oh, my God, just fuck me, please.”

  When she sounded like that—breathless and high off him—then he lost all control. His desire to make her wait left just like that.

  Haven laughed in that spun way of hers when Andino yanked her away from the wall, bent her over the sink, and ripped her panties down her thighs.

  “Open up and show me what’s mine.”

  His dark demand was punctuated by his hand slapping against her inner thighs. She was quick to open for him—lost in a long sigh as he fitted himself between her thighs from behind, and thrust in.

  One flex, that’s all it took.

  He was home again.

  He found heaven again.

  Her name was Haven.

  How was he supposed to just … let this go?

  • • •

  “Do you talk at all?” Andino asked.

  Ginevra Calabrese glanced up from the unappealing salad that had been placed in front of her by a server at the restaurant. Not one of Andino’s restaurants—the place belonged to Kev. Had it been his, that shit she was supposed to eat wouldn’t be on the menu. At least, not as a single item. Who the fuck wanted to eat rabbit food with no real substance to help it go down?

  “I do,” Ginevra said softly, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

  Andino cocked his head to the side, surprised at her response. “Why?”

  The young woman didn’t seem to know how to respond, or rather … what she was supposed to say to begin with. Andino, on the other hand, didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with a woman like this at all.

  Not that he wanted to.

  “Why, what?” she asked.

  “Why are you apologizing to me?”

  Ginevra used the fork to drag through the salad. “For not being … whatever you would like, I guess. That’s what I was told to be today—whatever you would like. And with everyone else, that usually means staying quiet and out of sight, if possible. I can’t exactly be out of your sight when I have to sit right in front of you at the table, so being quiet seemed like the way to go. Sorry if that’s not what you want.”

  Andino’s anger flared as his gaze drifted from Ginevra to the men sitting a few tables away. He asked for this dinner simply because he wanted her to be comfortable with him even if the last thing he intended to do was marry the woman because he needed for her to trust him. It was her brothers, however, that demanded they be there to supervise. Thankfully, he managed to get them to do that from afar.

  He truly hated those pieces of shit.

  Really.

  “I neither want, nor need, for you to be a piece of art beside me. Pretty, but inanimate,” he explained, shrugging when she glanced up at him. “If that’s what they expect, then that’s another story. When they are around, you can behave however they deem appropriate as to not cause yourself trouble. With me, you can be whatever you feel like in the moment.”

  “Right now,” she told him, “I would prefer to be anywhere else.”

  Andino smirked. “I do appreciate a woman who isn’t a liar, but for the sake of appearances, let’s at least play nice.”

  “I don’t want to marry you, Andino. I don’t want to be here, and I certainly don’t want to pretend to give a damn about anything you want to talk about right now. So, if it’s okay with you, I would much prefer to sit here and occasionally nod when you talk so that you might think I give a shit. But really, we’ll both know I don’t.”

  Well, then.

  Damn.

  Good on her for being honest. Andino appreciated that, and honestly, that was the kind of fire he wanted to see from a woman like Ginevra in the position that she was. It spoke to good things for her.

  “Oh, good. Then, we’re on the same page.”

  Confusion flickered across Ginevra’s face, but she opted to stay quiet. That was, frankly, the better choice for her. Andino chose not to point that out right now. It wouldn’t help his case, or his plans at the end of the day.

  “Did they choose the salad for you, too?” Andino asked. “Because I wouldn’t willingly eat that without some kind of steak to weigh it down.”

  The hint of a smile graced Ginevra’s lips.

  Battle almost won, he thought.

  “They did—heaven forbid you thought I ate too much.”

  Andino made a noise in the back of his throat. “I prefer women who enjoy themselves, actually. Not that it’ll matter what I prefer from you. Some other man, perhaps, but not me. You would do well to remember that.”

  She glanced up at him again.

  Andino simply smiled back.

  He just needed this woman to trust him. The rest would come easily after that.

  • • •

  “How was your dinner with the girl?”

  Andino glanced up from the work on his desk to find his father leaning in the doorway of the office. Just beyond where Giovanni stood, the hustle and bustle of the restaurant continued on. Gio waited with a measured expression for his son’s reply.

  “Bearable,” Andino chose to say.

  Gio’s mouth quirked higher at the edge as he said, “That’s not the answer I want to hear when you’re talking about your wife-to-be.”

  “Seems like a fine enough answer for me.”

  “And why is that?”

  Andino pushed away the work on his desk to give his father the attention Giovanni was so clearly looking for. Obviously, or his father wouldn’t be here at all. Andino was not the only one with business all over the city, and his father’s days were often busier than even his own. If Gio made a point to make time to come here and see Andino today, he did that with a purpose.

  Clearly, information this time around.

  Maybe for his mother, who knew?

  “What do you want to know, Dad?” Andino asked. “If we talked, or if she’s happy? If she’s willing to meet Ma—frankly, she’ll do whatever she’s told because she’s terrified of what might happen if she doesn’t. What is it you want?”

  Giovanni blinked. “Is she?”

  “What?”

  “Scared of you.”

  Andino scowled. “It’s not me—it’s them.”

  His father nodded once. “Her brothers, then.”

  “Calling them that in reference to their relationship with Ginevra seems like a stretch considering all she is to them is a pawn, Dad. She is something for them to use to get where they want to go, and very little else. They don’t actually give a shit about her. I could be the worst kind of trash, and they wouldn’t give a single fuck about it. Okay?”

  Gio didn’t bat an eye at Andino’s statement. It was almost like that was exactly what his father expected to hear, and so, it didn’t really come as a surprise.

  Nothing in this life was a surprise, now.

  “And none of that seems like a problem to you,” Giovanni noted.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Don’t mistake my apathy for a lack of empathy,” he countered. “But I also know what’s expected of me, and what I have to do.”

  Or make it look like I am doing.


  That, too.

  “For now, that’s what matters,” Andino added.

  Gio tipped his chin up a bit. “For now.”

  Ah, fuck.

  “Is that because your attention is still elsewhere, and you still haven’t committed yourself to the things Dante has asked of you, or no?”

  Andino’s jaw clenched. “Don’t play word games. I hate that.”

  “Haven Murphy. You’re still seeing her, I hear. And I only heard it because the enforcer you have trailing you at the moment thought to mention it to me the last time we spoke. You’re still playing with that fire—as much as two days ago, even. She spent the night at your place. How’s that for a word game?”

  Fuck his whole entire life.

  Pink was still busy elsewhere—the enforcer had to keep an eye on Siena from afar like Andino told him to do. Which meant Andino needed to have a new enforcer watch his back on a daily basis. One he didn’t particularly like, and who didn’t understand the meaning of being loyal to the person who was paying him. Instead, he was loyal to the family.

  That was a problem for Andino.

  He needed a lot of things from people—most importantly, he demanded their loyalty. That, and for them to be discreet about his business. Private, or otherwise.

  Even if it was his father.

  “Thank you for letting me know that,” Andino said darkly.

  Gio frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I have a problem that needs to be disposed.”

  “You’re going to kill the enforcer because he spoke to me?”

  “Don’t be offended. It’s not about you.”

  Gio chuckled. “No, it’s about you, I suppose. You’re going to make an interesting boss, son. I can already tell.”

  “That is the plan, apparently.”

  “Are you going to tell me what in the hell you’re doing with Haven? And Ginevra? This deal—your uncle? What is going on, Andino? At least give me the respect of telling me what kind of shit I might step into before I put my whole foot in the pile. Allow me to … well, be on your side, son. Please.”

  Andino had planned to do this alone—whatever he needed to do, that was, to get what he fucking wanted. He didn’t need help. He just needed the means and the time to get shit done.

  Still, as he stared at his father, he had to wonder …

  Was that the right choice?

  “I want her,” Andino said.

  Gio dragged in a deep breath, and took a moment before he spoke again. “Haven.”

  “Yes.”

  “All right.”

  “All right?”

  Gio smirked. “If you’re going to pick a hill to die on—why not that one? Yeah, why not that fucking hill, Andino.”

  Hey, at least it was a beautiful hill.

  TWELVE

  Haven was entirely distracted by the report from yet another inspection of the club sitting in front of her. The hustle and bustle of a small Brooklyn café was practically nonexistent. Nothing more than a hum in the back of her mind.

  “Are you looking at it?” Dale asked.

  “Finally,” Haven said. “Yes.”

  She’d printed off the report Dale faxed over from the investor’s inspector just before leaving the club after a weekly meeting with the employees. He had offered to come over and go through the report with Haven, but her empty stomach wasn’t having it.

  Now, with a coffee and bagel in front of her, she felt a little more human and up to looking through the report.

  The final report—or it was supposed to be. This was the last inspection that the investor wanted before the deal on the club could go through.

  This was what she had been waiting for.

  “So, what exactly am I looking at, then?” Haven said.

  The official documents seemed like a lot of nonsense and legalese. Nothing that she cared to wade through to find the keywords she needed to say everything was good to go. That’s what Dale was working for, anyway. He wanted his commission. He could earn it, too.

  “Basically,” Dale said, “the inspector gave the green light on everything. The investor is good to go whenever he is ready to sign the check, so to speak.”

  Haven blinked.

  Yeah, that’s what she wanted to hear. And yet, it was still a little surreal when the words finally reached her ears. All this time, and just like that, the wait was over. She didn’t really know what to do about it, or how to feel.

  “Oh,” Haven said.

  The realtor chuckled on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound happy.”

  Haven rubbed at her forehead, and shook her head even knowing that the man couldn’t see it over the phone. “No, I am. It’s just … been a while since we started this process, I guess. Maybe I expected them to drag it on for another few months.”

  “Well, the check isn’t signed yet.”

  She heard the joke in the man’s tone, but she didn’t find it very funny, all things considered. Nonetheless, she let it slide.

  “How long is it going to take to get the paperwork drawn up, signed, and finalized?” Haven asked.

  “At most, a week or two. Probably closer to two.”

  Two weeks.

  That was all.

  “I can do two more weeks,” Haven said.

  Her house still hadn’t sold yet—a couple of low offers that made her roll her eyes before, sure. She was starting to think that maybe she should take a lower offer just to get the house off her hands, too.

  That would make things simpler …

  “Okay, well, I will get on the phone with the—”

  “Haven?”

  Dale’s voice cut off entirely in Haven’s ear even though she knew he was still speaking because she suddenly found herself staring up at someone she didn’t expect to see. Well, at least not in some random tiny Brooklyn café.

  Andino’s father.

  Again.

  What kind of shitty luck did she have to keep randomly running into this man? At least with Andino, she was the one who went to him. With his father, it seemed like the world was just having a good fucking laugh at her expense.

  “Giovanni, hi,” Haven said.

  The man smiled warmly.

  On the phone, Dale’s voice filtered back through Haven’s shock. “Are you still there?”

  Shit.

  She gave Giovanni an apologetic shrug of her shoulder, and pointed at the phone before mouthing, just give me a second. “Yeah, Dale, I’m still here. I have to go—something came up.” Or someone, rather. “Give me a call when you need my signature.”

  “Will do, Haven. Have a great day.”

  “You, too.”

  Haven shut the phone off, and tucked it into her purse at her side. By the time she gave her attention to Andino’s father again, the man was staring at the paperwork from the inspector and the investor with a dip in his brow, and a curious smile.

  Haven cleared her throat, and Gio glanced at her. “Do you come here often?”

  “A couple of times a week. They have my wife’s favorite Danishes.”

  “Ah. I just needed something to eat fast, and this was the closest place.”

  “It’s a good choice,” Gio replied, still smiling kindly. “They have great food.”

  “Good to know.” Haven closed the folder, which again drew in Gio’s gaze, and then proceeded to pack the stuff into her oversized purse. “Also, for future reference, because it seems like we keep running into each other … but you don’t have to say hello to me just to be polite. I know you probably wish you didn’t have to see me at all, so—”

  “Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong about that,” Gio interrupted her with a soft laugh, “but I suppose, all things considered, you can’t be expected to know anything different. Right?”

  Haven blinked, and looked up at the man. “I beg your pardon?”

  Giovanni shrugged his shoulders beneath the well-tailored black blazer he wore. Just like his son, the man was broad-shoulder
ed, tall, and classically handsome. He also gave off an air that screamed bad news, old money, and a lifetime worth of secrets he probably wasn’t willing to share.

  It was almost funny how alike he and his son were in those ways.

  “I mean,” Giovanni said, sliding into the chair across the table from Haven without even being invited, “that I think it’s a shame we haven’t really been able to have an actual conversation. Knowing some of the things I do about you, that seems like it’s my loss.”

  His loss.

  His loss to not speak to her.

  “Uh,” Haven said, still unsure.

  Giovanni flashed her a wide smile. “I always thought … well, knowing my son and how he is, the woman who eventually came into his life and took it over would have to be something amazing. Mind you, all the men in our family have managed to find a wife that fits him just the way she needs to. They’re all amazing in their own ways. But my son? He went out and found someone I never expected, but I still can’t find it in myself to be surprised.”

  “Why?”

  She didn’t want to ask the question, really, but it still managed to slip out. Damn her curiosity straight to hell and back. It only served to get her hurt.

  “Because Andino is not average, and he does not come from average men,” Gio said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He is not the exception; he is exceptional. You see, I always thought my son was more like his uncle—the one you met at the club with me, Dante. A stickler for the rules; always toeing the line; never questioning his place or the demands put on him. Certainly nothing like me.”

  Gio laughed in that way again—dark, and deep. “Not like me, Haven, who broke every rule I could, and caused the most trouble for my family. Not like me who went after a woman I was not allowed to have, and nearly got myself and her killed for it in the process. No, he wasn’t like me at all. He was smarter than me, and better than me. It was for the best, anyway. Someone decided when he was just sixteen that he was going to be a king-in-waiting, but they didn’t want to tell him, then. He didn’t need to know then. Either way, he was going to do great things while I had only done the bare minimum. He was destined to be someone I could never be. I only managed to keep myself alive. That was a feat in itself, believe me.”