The Promise: Mafia Vows Two

by SR Jones

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I think I’ve lost some weight, but not too much. Within the first week of being back home, I was doing physio and lifting some light weights. You don’t use it, you lose it. I’m a firm believer in that. I look tired, though. Christ, I need some sun. I laugh to myself and wonder if Maya would enjoy a honeymoon somewhere hot. Maybe a tropical beach. Or Australia, after all, as our winter descends their summer begins.

  My attire is smarter than usual. A two-piece suit, white shirt open at the collar. This is an interview of sorts, and I’m the head of this rag tag band of weirdos the three of us are building. Well, Alesso and I are the head of it, together. I don’t think I’ll ever go full on Andrius with the whole three-piece suit and thousand dollar tie deal. But maybe being smarter won’t hurt during business meetings. After all, Andrius doesn’t wear those clothes because he’s into fashion; he wears them as a form of armor. They fit his bulk, make him look even bigger. They make him appear in ultimate control of himself and his surroundings. The way Andrius dresses is a form of psychological warfare that he employs before he even opens his mouth. I’m taking pointers.

  I open the dark wooden jewelry box I brought over from the apartment in Kolonaki. There are only four things in it. My mother’s wedding ring. A gold cross. My Omega Speedmaster, which I take out and put on my wrist. And the Patek Philippe my father left to me. I hate the damn thing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s stunningly beautiful and probably worth a small fortune, but it reminds me too much of my father for me to want to wear it personally.

  If I have a son, maybe he’d want to wear it? If I have a son. Wow, where did that thought come from? It’s hardly the sort of life to bring a child into. Then again, in other ways, with the small army we are building here, they might be safer than being born into a more normal family.

  Do I want children with Maya? The thought of her carrying my child gives me a primal thrill of satisfaction I can’t deny.

  I’m an ambitious man, and I’d love to build an empire, but in order for that empire to truly matter, surely I need an heir to pass it all down to?

  That’s the difference between me and someone like Liam. It had crossed my mind to see if Liam and his men might be amenable to coming in on this little army we are building, but then I looked into them.

  Liam might skirt the law at times, when he thinks it is for the greater good. Mostly, though, he likes to color within the lines society sets out for him. He has a good living, a company he owns with his friends, and from what I know about him, a good life. A decent life and enough money to mean he’ll never go without, but not enough to call himself wealthy. And the thing is, he’s happy with that. He’s happy to live in Yorkshire and run his business, and I don’t think me offering him a shit ton of money to relocate to Greece would work.

  Cole, on the other hand. Cole is an interesting character, and he’s been screwed over by the nation he gave his all to because he now has PTSD and is finding it hard to stay in work. Liam knows of him via some Delta Force dude he’s friends with, and he says Cole is one of the most highly-trained fighting machines he knows.

  I dug around into Cole’s personal life, his finances, and every other damn thing I could. Fair? No. Necessary? Yes. I’m most likely going to be inviting him to join our team, so I need to know as much as I can about him.

  What I know is this. Cole likes women, and he screws around—a lot. I know this because a lot of his texting and WhatsApp time is spent either placating, or downright lying to, a never-ending revolving door of conquests. He also likes money and the good things in life. He has PTSD, and he’s cycled through quite a few high-end white collar jobs and hasn’t been able to hold any of them down. Twice he’s been sent on an anger management course. He’s loyal, though. He has three close friends, and from what I’ve seen, he’d do anything to help them. He also cares for both financially, and it seems. in other practical ways, the widow and child of a dead brother-in-arms. Basically, Cole Brademas is exactly what I’m looking for. If he fits as well as I think he will when we meet, he’ll be in charge of all the men working here for us. Our new head of security. He’ll get paid a lot of money to do it, and he’ll get a roof over his head, which means he can send more of his salary to Eliza Raymond, the widow he’s helping support.

  While I interview Cole today, Maya is seeing her therapist, and whilst I don’t approve of her methods, I have to credit Ms. Ramos with helping me get my head screwed on.

  Leaving my … our bedroom, since Maya has moved all her things in here, I make my way downstairs. I smile when I think of the surprise I have in store for her. Maya has therapy, and then a lunch date and afternoon shopping trip with Stella and two of the Spetsnaz men as guards, along with Markos. Something I’ve organized because I’ve hired ten men to work all day while she’s out, on a bedroom on the other side of the house. It has nicer views than the room I’ve always seen as mine, and it’s a break from the past for me. It was never used by anyone in the family because it wasn’t big enough for a main bedroom, but I’m having it knocked through into the room next door. The wall isn’t a load bearing one, so it’s easy enough to do. Then it is being decorated, and at about three in the afternoon a shit ton of furniture is arriving. It’s to her taste because I got Stella to help me choose. But not totally to her taste, because apparently if Maya had her way, according to Stella, I’d be living in something that resembled a cross between a Sheik’s palace and a bedroom designed for Liberace. And just no.

  This is a toned-down version of that. Black wood has been used for the main furniture and the huge ass bookshelf I’m having put up in the room for her. A massive black bed will dominate the space. The floor is a deep gray, and it matches the walls. Then, at the foot of the bed, there’s going to be an oversized, white sheepskin rug. That’s purely for Maya, and I got it because Stella told me Maya had always wanted one after watching old-fashioned movies where the stars made out on rugs in front of the fire.

  I’ve spent over two thousand euros on a rug, just so I can fuck my wife on it.

  I hired an interior decorator to come up with some feminine touches in the bright colors that Maya likes. To contrast with all the dark masculine colors, there’s going to be vases in jade green and silk throw cushions on the bed. Things with gold trim, giving it the feel she likes. I can live with that shit. I can live with almost anything if I get to fuck Maya’s brains out on a sheepskin rug.

  Really needing to get thoughts of Maya naked on a rug out of my head, I compose myself and focus on the meeting ahead.

  I enter the dining room and smile as I see Rita bustling about. She’s the second half of Maya’s surprise today. I hired her to come work for us. She’s been like an honorary parent to Maya for much of her life, and I found out she’d been let go by Spiros and the bastard hadn’t paid her any severance.

  “Everything is ready for your meeting, sir.” She gestures to the table where there is coffee and a teapot. Jesus. Tea? She’s laid out mugs, but also cups with saucers. Dinky as shit, I doubt any of us will be sipping tea from those. There is also a jug of iced water, with glasses on a tray, and a plate of cookies. “The gentleman is in the living room waiting.”

  “And Alesso?”

  “Here.” The nimble fucker sneaks into the room as quiet as a mouse.

  I’ve never quite mastered stealth in the way he has.

  “Okay, Rita, will you bring Mr. Brademas in please?”

  She does, and I go and shake his hand as he enters the room, taking the measure of him in person. He’s tall, about six-feet-two, and he’s big too, not as big as me, few people are, but easily a similar size to Andrius. Christ, we’re going to look like a posse of giants anytime we go anywhere. Although, two of the Spetsnaz guys are small and wiry. Non-descript looking men who could kill you before you even noticed them. They are the deadliest kind of all.

  “Come, have a seat, Cole.”

  He takes the one directly opposite the chair I’m pulling out for myself.
Alesso sits to one side of me and gestures to the teapot with a crinkled brow. I shrug because I don’t want to hurt Rita’s feelings. She’ll learn the way we do things around here, and that way is not serving up tea in pots with cups so dainty we’ll probably break them if we try to use them.

  “Coffee, water … tea.” Alesso puts extra emphasis on the word tea, and his lips twitch. He also asks the question in perfect English.

  “Water is fine, thank you,” Cole replies in perfect Greek.

  “Ah, you speak the mother tongue,” Alesso says.

  “Yes. Was brought up learning to speak it, and my parents brought me to Greece every summer. To Athens to see our family here, and then to the Islands for a few weeks, mostly Rhodes as that is where my mother’s family still live.”

  “Where about in America do you live?” I ask him. I already know, but I want to see how forthcoming he is.

  “Right now? I live in California. I like it there, but I’ve moved around a lot. Look, I don’t want to mess you guys around, so I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. I’ve struggled a bit with PTSD, and I’ve changed jobs a lot.”

  “Why? Did you screw up?” Alesso puts it out there, blunt.

  “Not as such. Not in the work I was doing, but … being with civilians. Trying to work with people who are so … petty… I erm, well, a couple of times I lost my temper.”

  “What did you do?” I ask.

  “One occasion, I shouted at my direct superior and apparently behaved in a physically threatening manner toward him, but I didn’t lay a finger on the man. The second time…”

  He trails off, and a hint of color washes over his tan cheeks, making them ruddy. He doesn’t want to talk about this one. I’ve read the report, but I want to hear his side.

  “It was late, there was hardly anyone in the office. I’d had a disagreement with a female colleague earlier in the day, and she came up to me to say sorry. Except I had earbuds in as I worked, and I didn’t hear her approach. She put her hand on my shoulder, and I… I grabbed her and pushed her down onto the desk. It was an instinctive reaction, and I let go as soon as I realized what I’d done. She put in a complaint about me.”

  “She took you by surprise, and you reacted in a way you were trained to; didn’t they understand?” Alesso asks.

  Cole sighs and licks his lips, his gaze sliding away from us before he seems to make a decision and sits up straighter, looking right at us. “I didn’t say that when I was asked about it. I said I lost my temper. I didn’t want to… I couldn’t go into what happened. It’s not easy to talk about. She touched me, and I reacted on instinct. I was worried if I said that, I might end up locked up or something. Seen as a danger to society.”

  “Do you think you’re a danger to society?” I ask him.

  “Truthfully? I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Good, because you wouldn’t be much use to us if you weren’t.”

  His eyes widen at my words, and then his lips tug up in the first smile I’ve seen him give since we sat down to talk.

  “You need to be in control in this role. You need to be able to lock shit down if trouble breaks out, but I’m guessing that won’t be an issue for you. I’m guessing it’s way more of an issue for you to try to fit into a boring office job where a bunch of civilians have no idea that sneaking up on you and putting their hands on your shoulder would make you react that way. For what it’s worth, someone did the same to me? I’d have reacted the way you did.”

  “Okay,” he says. Just ‘okay’, but there’s hope in there too.

  “Here’s the thing. If you’re going to come onboard with us, you’ll get paid an extremely good wage. You’ll also get accommodation thrown in. Any training you need will be given, but there are two caveats. One is, you need to understand, we aren’t always on the right side of the law. You come in with us, and you won’t be either. Two, you get some help for the PTSD, so you can operate at full capacity. We’ll pay, but that’s a non-negotiable.”

  He nods. “How on the wrong side of the law are we talking here?”

  “Very.” Alesso smirks, but then he sobers. “But nothing I can’t personally live with. So … no moving drugs, absolutely no trafficking women. Some arms dealing, mostly legal, and quite a lot of movement of high-end items, which is mostly absolutely not legal. Our boss, he’s the guy the world’s most powerful people go to if they want something. There is a rumor, and I don’t know how true this is, that he once got someone a much-admired Monet. Thing simply disappeared from public life, and now it apparently sits in the recluse billionaire’s home. The two things he won’t acquire are animals, of any kind, and humans.”

  “Okay.” There Cole goes again with his not giving much away.

  “There are also casinos, bars, restaurants, hotels, and we are going into business with a Bratva Pakhan who moves a lot of arms. Most of that is now legit. But hell, you know the arms industry—even the legit side is murky as fuck.”

  “The world is as murky as fuck,” Cole says, and I smile because he’s right, it is.

  “I think you’ll be a good fit here, Cole. What do you say? Do you want to come on board for a few weeks, learn the basics? Your main role will be to oversee all security and train the men. In particular, though, I need someone who can watch my wife when I’m not able to. Right now, there’s always either myself, Alesso, or Markos with her, but that’s not feasible going forward. I need someone I can trust with my wife’s life during the odd occasion I can’t be there with her.”

  He nods, somber. “I swear to you, if I had a protective detail, I would lay my life down to save that person if it came to it, without a second thought. I’m a military man; it’s what we do.”

  I believe he would. His service record is incredible. The way he’s looking after his friend’s widow also points to a man who whilst he may have issues, has honor. The one thing I don’t like is he’s good looking. My jealousy is having a hard time imagining Maya alone with this guy. But he’s highly trained, the best of the best, and when it comes right down to it, keeping her safe matters the most.

  “There is one thing,” I say. And yep, my jealousy isn’t going to let this go without something being said. “My wife is an incredibly beautiful young woman, and if you’re anything but totally professional around her at all times, it’s not your employment contract that will be broken, but your neck.”

  For a moment there’s nothing but silence, and then Cole bursts out laughing. “Mr. Lambrakis, I would expect nothing less.”

  I stand and reach over the table, extending my hand. “Good, that’s settled then. And call me Damen.”

  We shake hands and I turn to Alesso, my brows raised. He gives that subtle dip of his head that means yes in Greek body language, and I smile.

  “Welcome aboard, Cole.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Maya

  By the time we arrive back at the house, it’s dark. I’ve gone a bit mad today and bought an extortionate underwear set for the wedding evening. I want to give Damen a night to remember, seeing as he’s giving me a day to remember.

  Hidden amongst layers of soft tissue is a creamy confection that I hope will have his eyes on stalks. Although, most of the time, Damen seems to view my clothes and underwear as nothing more than impediments he needs to get out of the way to have me naked.

  It’s been an odd journey home. Usually, I have Damen or Alesso with me, but today there’s a Russian man called Yuri driving the car. Another Russian takes up the passenger seat, and beside me in the back is Markos. He’s clicking his beads, and I turn to him.

  “Markos, can I ask you a question? Are you religious, or do the beads soothe you?”

  He smiles at me, a faint ghost of an expression that lights up his face, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. So fleeting it reminds me of seeing a flash of lightning; one moment it’s lighting up the sky, the next you wonder if you had imagined it.

  “My grandmother gave me these. She told me to use them when I fel
t sad or stressed. She told me to use them whenever my parents argued, which was all the time. I used to hide in the closet in my room, and I would swing these beads. Soon, I got to the point where I could focus on the beads and only the beads, and I cut out the sound of their arguing and shouting and screaming. I left home the day after my father did this.”

  He lifts his t-shirt to show an impressively cut torso, but there’s a mark on him. A livid, jagged red scar.

  “What did he do?” I whisper.

  “Threw the iron at me, and it hit my side on. Could have been an awful lot worse, but it burned bad enough to leave this scar. I went upstairs and packed a bag. Moved out and mostly lived on the streets or slept above the shops and bars where I got work.”

  “You lived on the streets?” I feel a twinge of pain in my chest for this quiet, stoic man.

  “Yes, but it’s not so bad as you think, beautiful Maya. Not in the summer on the islands.”

  “You’re from the Islands?” I smile at him calling me beautiful. The way he says it isn’t remotely sexual, it’s more … reverential almost.

  “From Corfu. Same as Damen and Alesso. One day I was in a bar, getting blind drunk, and this huge guy walks in. Military, I think. I can tell straightaway. Anyway, he sits at the barstool next to mine, and he orders a vodka neat and downs it in one. I hardly ever make conversation, and I don’t know what made me then, but I turned to him and said, ‘Bad day?’ He replied, ‘You could say that.’ We got to talking. I was so drunk, I said way more than I should have. Then the guy I was doing some work for, street beatings and that kind of stuff, he came to tell me I’d better sober up because he had a job for me before storming out of there. Damen turned to me and told me the guy was no good, nothing but trouble. I slurred at him that if he had a better way I could keep a roof over my head, to spill. He gave me this devil’s grin and said he had something he thought I’d be perfect for. Your husband recruited me to do some very off the books and shady government work. And in doing so, he saved my life. I got a proper military training, but most of the work I did wasn’t official military work; it was intelligence based, but at the sticky end of things, hence me needing combat training—particularly unarmed combat training. Changed my life, and Damen will always have my loyalty.”