The Wrong Vow: Bred by the Mafia Twins

The champagne tasted faintly of crushed aspirin.

My sister's wedding dress swallowed me whole, the expensive French lace bagging awkwardly around my smaller chest. Vanessa had handed me the glass with a shaking hand and a frantic, fake smile just twenty minutes ago.

Now, the heavy sedative was dragging my nervous system to a violent halt.

My heart rate slowed unnaturally. My body temperature plummeted, sending beads of cold sweat rolling down my temples. I tried to move my index finger, but my nerves felt completely disconnected from my brain.

Suddenly, the crowded ballroom of the Carmine Hotel fell dead silent.

The clinking of crystal champagne flutes and the crisp laughter of hundreds of guests stopped instantly. The hired string quartet lowered their instruments with visibly trembling hands.

He was here. Roman Falcone.

The elite crowd backed away in sheer panic, clearing a wide, two-meter path for the man who had just entered. Roman Falcone didn't merely walk; he moved with lethal, military precision. His custom-cut charcoal suit stretched over overly broad shoulders and a dense, muscular chest.

His obsidian eyes scanned the sea of terrified guests. Then, they locked directly onto me.

He knew instantly. I could see the cold, lethal realization ticking in his sharp jawline.

He stopped directly in front of my chair. The scent of cold winter air, expensive cedarwood, and gunpowder wrapped tightly around my throat.

"You aren't the bride," Roman stated. His voice was a low, terrifying rumble of thunder.

I fought the heavy drug dragging my eyelids down. "No. I'm Cora."

"Where is Vanessa?" he demanded, leaning closer.

"She ran," I managed to whisper, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy. "She drugged my champagne."

Roman’s eyes darkened dangerously, sweeping over the ill-fitting white silk. "And she left you as the sacrificial lamb to pay her debt."

"I didn't know," I said, my slurred speech betraying my failing body. "She just said she needed me to hold her place in the receiving line."

"Your family owes the Falcone Syndicate twenty million dollars." Roman’s voice dropped to a lethal purr. "This marriage was the payment."

I forced my heavy chin up, refusing to break eye contact. "My sister clearly disagreed with your terms."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. He didn't look angry; he looked coldly intrigued.

"Why didn't you run when you realized the dress didn't fit?" he asked softly.

I stared back at him, my mind racing despite the drugs clouding my brain. If I forced myself to stand up, this heavy sedative would make me collapse. I would just humiliate myself in front of hundreds of staring eyes.

I preferred to go down with my dignity intact.

"Because I'm not a coward," I finally answered. "And because my legs no longer work."

He let out a dark, humorless chuckle. "At least you have a spine. That is a rare trait in your pathetic bloodline."

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my vision going fuzzy at the edges.

"I am taking what belongs to me." Roman slipped his strong arm around my waist, hauling me effortlessly to my feet.

"I'm not Vanessa," I mumbled, my head falling heavily against his solid, warm chest.

"No," Roman whispered directly into my hair. "You're better."

The room blurred into streaks of golden light. The darkness finally pulled me under, swallowing my panic whole.

I woke to the scent of expensive silk, polished dark wood, and lingering gunsmoke.

I jolted upright, instantly regretting the sudden movement as nausea rolled through my stomach. The heavy, suffocating wedding dress was completely gone. I was wearing nothing but a thin, black silk nightgown.

Someone had stripped me while I was unconscious. My rational mind quickly deduced that a female maid must have been ordered to clean me up and change my clothes.

"You've been asleep for four hours," a cold voice announced from the shadows.

Roman stood by a massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a black, rain-slicked estate. He stepped smoothly into the dim amber lamplight. He held a thick, cream-colored document in one hand and a heavy gold fountain pen in the other.

"Where am I?" I asked, clutching the dark silk sheets to my chest.

"Blackthorn Estate. Your new home."

He walked to the edge of the massive four-poster bed. He tossed the document onto the mattress between my knees.

"Read it," Roman commanded.

I pulled the heavy paper toward me with trembling fingers. The bold, black letters at the top made my blood run entirely cold.

BREEDING AGREEMENT.

"What is this?" I gasped, looking up at his impassive, statue-like face.

"A solution," he stated flatly. "Your sister defaulted on our arrangement. Your father's massive debt is now past due."

"I am not my sister," I snapped, my fear quickly morphing into hot anger. "I won't be a broodmare for a mob boss."

Roman stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the light. "You don't have a choice, Cora."

"I can walk out that door right now," I challenged.

"You can," Roman agreed, his voice dangerously smooth. "But by noon, your father will be dead in a gutter."

I swallowed hard, the reality of my trap tightening like a noose around my throat. "And Vanessa?"

"I will hunt her down and sell her to the Bratva to recoup my financial losses." Roman leaned down, bracing his hands on the mattress. "Sign the contract, Cora."

"To produce an heir," I read aloud, scanning the brutal clauses. "Daily medical testing. Absolute prohibition from contacting any authorities."

"Your life belongs to the syndicate now," Roman affirmed.

"This is insane," I argued, my voice cracking slightly. "I don't even know you."

"You don't need to know me to breed," he replied with chilling detachment. "It is strictly business."

"Business?" I echoed bitterly. "You're buying a human being."

"I am purchasing a solution," he corrected. "Give me a healthy child, and the twenty-million-dollar Belmont debt is wiped clean forever."

I stared at the thick black ink on the page. It was a literal death sentence to my freedom. But I knew the Falcone Syndicate's brutal reputation.

Roman never made idle threats. If I refused, my entire family would be slaughtered before dinner.

Vanessa had ruined us. Now, I had to pay the ultimate price to keep us breathing.

I looked up at Roman, forcing the hot tears back. I would absolutely not let this monster see me cry. I had to adapt, or I would die in this house.

Roman uncapped the gold fountain pen with a soft click. He reached out, pressing the cold metal tip directly against my bottom lip.

"Sign it," he whispered, his dark eyes dropping to my mouth. "Or watch your world burn."

I snatched the pen roughly from his grip. The cold metal felt heavy and foreign in my hand. My hand flew across the bottom of the page, pressing hard enough to almost tear the paper.

I signed my life away.

I threw the pen onto the silk sheets. "There. You own me."

Roman picked up the contract, silently inspecting my sharp, angry signature. He folded the document carefully and slid it inside his tailored jacket.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, completely devoid of any warmth or mercy. He turned and walked toward the bedroom door, his hand resting heavily on the brass knob.

He paused, looking back at me over his shoulder with cold, warning eyes.

"Welcome to the family," he said. "Try not to run. The last woman who ran from me didn't enjoy the retrieval."