Devious Vow: A Dark Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance
Devious Vow: Chapter 5

Gabriel’s already in Conference Room A when Taylor and I arrive. He eyes me warily as we take seats at the table on either side of him, facing the door.

“Carveli is on the way up.”

“Noted,” I grunt. My hand closes to a tight fist on the table.

Outwardly, I may appear calm. Beneath the surface, though, I’m a swirling dark pool of poison and fury. And I hate admitting to even myself why I feel that way.

I hate knowing that my barely contained rage at being in an enclosed space talking business with Massimo Carveli has nothing to do with his reputation, or what he does for a living.

…It’s about who he shares a fucking bed with every night.

Eloise.

It’s always about Eloise.

“Hey.”

I flinch, whipping my gaze from the table to meet Gabriel’s concerned eyes.

“You really don’t need to be here for⁠—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Black?”

The intercom on the conference table squawks as Megan, the front desk receptionist, interrupts.

“Mr. Carveli and his team are here.”

“Wonderful. Please escort them to Conference Room A. Thanks, Megan,” Gabriel chirps, all business. He turns to me as we all stand. “Look⁠—”

“I’m fine.”

I turn away to face the door, effectively ending that tedious conversation. A few seconds later, there’s a discreet knock before Megan opens the door with a small smile and then steps back.

I turn to stone as Massimo steps inside, and don’t realize my hands have curled to fighter’s fists until Gabriel kicks my ankle under the table. He clears his throat, putting on his best, most unctuous politician’s smile as he steps around the table with a hand outstretched.

“Ahh, Mr. Carveli! Welcome to Crown and Black.”

My hands unclench, but I’m still stiff as a board as Massimo and some big Italian guy who looks like he’d fit in better at one of my fight clubs than at a legal office step inside.

“Mr. Black,” Massimo purrs with his Sicilian accent, shaking my brother’s hand firmly. “I’m glad we could arrange this meeting.”

“Likewise, likewise,” Gabriel smiles. “Allow me to introduce my associates, Taylor Crown…”

Taylor walks around the table to shake Massimo’s hand.

“And my brother, Alistair.”

There’s no fucking way I’m shaking this motherfucker’s hand, so I don’t even make a move to walk around the table. If Massimo notices the slight, he ignores it as his eyes meet mine. He frowns slightly as he shakes a finger at me.

“Alistair Black…” he muses, his brows knitting. “Have we met?”

“I think I’d have remembered,” I say flatly, ignoring the “please behave” look on my brother’s face.

Massimo shrugs, an easy smile on his chiseled face. “My mistake, then. I could swear we’ve met before. Maybe we just have more in common than we think.”

“I’d bet on it.”

Taylor shoots me a pleading look past Massimo’s shoulder that I ignore.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Carveli,” Gabriel smiles. “Can I get you and your associate anything to drink?”

“Scotch for me. He’s fine,” Massimo says as he sinks lazily into a chair.

It’s nine in the morning.

Gabriel clears his throat, looking completely nonplussed like the pro he is. He touches a button on the intercom. “Megan, would you please have the bottle of the Dalmore 62 from my office brought in, and four glasses?”

Massimo smirks a snake-like smile as Gabriel, Taylor, and I take seats across from him, facing the door.

“Mr. Carveli,” Taylor smiles. “Why don’t we begin with what Crown and Black can do for you and your organization⁠—”

“I’m prepared to commit fifty million dollars a year in billable hours to your firm.”

Holy. Fuck.

The room goes silent as Massimo’s words hang in the air. That sort of money would make Massimo the single biggest client we have, by about double.

Gabriel clears his throat. “Well, that’s wonderful to hear, Mr. Carveli.”

He pauses as the door opens, and Megan bustles in with a tray of crystal glasses and the ludicrously expensive scotch from Gabriel’s office. When she leaves again, Gabriel opens the bottle and pours a glass for Massimo.

“Now, why don’t you tell us specifically what we can do for⁠—”

“Stop talking.”

My brows shoot up at Massimo’s interruption. Gabriel frowns.

“Pardon me?”

“Stop. Talking,” Massimo grunts. He wafts the glass of scotch under his nose as he sits back and grins at us venomously. “Let’s be quite clear on something, Mr. Black. You and your partners won’t be working with me. You’ll be working for me. Are we clear on that?”

I feel my hands curl to fists under the table again. Gabriel’s jaw tightens a little, but he nods politely.

“Of course, Mr. Carveli. Now, as I was⁠—”

“And before you start plying me with expensive scotch and knockout redheads with great tits,” Massimo snickers, nodding his chin at Taylor.

Fuckhead.

“You should know,” he continues, “that my business comes with a…condition.”

Fuck. I hate fucking games, and I already hate this fucking guy. The combination is making me come close to boiling over.

“I’m sure you’re a busy man, Massimo,” I growl, purposely skipping the “Mr. Carveli” shit because fuck this guy. “So why don’t we just put the cards on the table, shall we?”

His blue eyes swivel to mine, and he wags a finger at me.

“Oh, I like this one. You’re my kind of lawyer, Alistair. Completely devoid of bullshit.”

He sighs as his gaze takes in all three of us.

“My condition is this: I have someone—a lawyer—and I’d like you to hire them.”

What?

“Excuse me?” Gabriel frowns.

Massimo shrugs, sipping his scotch. “If you want my business, you’ll hire this lawyer. This is non-negotiable.”

“We have a very precise and thorough hiring process, Mr. Carveli,” Taylor ventures. “But I’m sure we can get your friend into the queue and have them in for a round of interviews.”

Massimo smiles darkly and slowly shakes his head.

“That doesn’t work for me. No ‘process’. No interviews. You’ll hire them, today.”

My brows furrow. “You can’t expect us to⁠—”

“For fifty million a year I expect you to jump through hoops of fucking fire if I ask you to, counselor,” he growls, a dark look on his face.

Gabriel clears his throat. “Mr. Carveli, could you give us a minute?”

“You have thirty seconds.”

Massimo either doesn’t see or ignores the glare I give him as Gabriel yanks me away. He, Taylor and I retreat to the far corner of the conference room, by the window.

“No. Fucking. Way,” I grunt.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“And you’re fucking high if you think we should bow to this douchebag and hire his mob lawyer buddy.”

“I’d hire his favorite fucking barista for that sort of commitment on billable hours, Alistair,” Gabriel hisses back.

Taylor nods. “I’m with Gabriel. I mean, whoever it is, we can stick them wherever we want. We’ll give them a base starting salary, no bonus, and it can come directly out of Massimo’s billable hours.”

“Except he’s the kind of shithead who’ll ask for an inch and then take a fucking mile,” I mutter.

“Who fucking cares?!” Gabriel hisses back. “Fifty mil lets us finally open that branch in Chicago we’ve been talking about.”

“It’s a no from me.”

Gabriel sighs and glances at Taylor. “Vote?”

“Sure,” she nods. “It’s a yes from me. Sorry, Alistair.”

“Yes from me, too,” Gabriel murmurs, shrugging as he looks at me. “Sorry, pal. Majority carries.”

“Aaaand, time’s up!” Massimo chirps from his seat.

“This is a fucking mistake,” I mutter under my breath as we all turn and walk back to the table.

“Well?” Massimo asks us.

“We have a deal, Mr. Carveli.” Gabriel smiles and extends a hand across the table. Massimo grips it firmly as they shake. “I’ll have the contract drawn up this afternoon.”

Massimo’s teeth flash as he smirks. “Excellent.”

“So,” Taylor clears her throat. “When can expect to meet your lawyer⁠—”

“She’s waiting just outside, actually.”

Massimo turns to murmur something to his goon. The man nods before standing and slipping out of the room.

“She’s excellent,” Massimo grins. “Just passed the New York bar exam, actually.”

“Always helpful for a lawyer,” I say, ignoring Gabriel kicking my shin under the table. “Would we know her from any other firm?”

Massimo smiles as the door begins to open behind him.

“You would know her as my wife.”

The words already hit me like a slap. But seeing her when she walks through that door is like a punch to the dick.

Fuck.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen Eloise since Knightsblood. That brutal moment came a few months ago at a gala event, right after she and fuckstick moved to New York.

But that was from a distance. As far as I know, she didn’t see me at all.

This time, we’re only ten feet apart, and my eyes are the first thing hers latch onto when she steps through the door.

At the very least, I can relish the fear in her eyes. The confusion. The way they fly wide, her heart-shaped lips pulling into an O.

But that momentary victory shatters once I drink in the rest of her.

Goddammit.

If fate or karma had any sense of fairness, Eloise LaBlanc would have walked back into my life three hundred pounds overweight or suffering from some disgusting skin ailment.

But that isn’t the case. Not. In. The. Slightest.

Ten years ago, Eloise was a pretty, fresh-faced…if mouthy…nineteen-year-old girl.

Today, she stands in front of me as quite possibly the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. She’s still petite, but stands tall and proud, even as her eyes keep darting nervously to mine. Her long blonde hair is up in a sleek, professional bun, though the office appropriate stops there: her attire makes her look like she’s trying to score free drinks at the hottest club in Manhattan, as opposed to anything approaching an office dress code.

And it’s fucking green.

My eyes draw to slits.

Green, just like the night she taught me the lesson I’ve never forgotten. The night my walls went up and never came down again.

Slowly, she collects herself, and I see her expression transform back into the one I knew ten years ago.

Haughty.

Proud and vain.

Entitled.

For one second, when she first walked in, I felt a surge of something I didn’t quite understand and certainly didn’t want welling up inside of me. I felt a tidal wave of confusion, the sight of her so close again hitting me like an old addiction and reactivating neural synapses, memories, and cravings I shut down years ago.

But now, seeing that look on her face, so similar to the look the first time I met the snobby little French mafia princess, that momentary lapse in judgment shatters like frozen glass. And that green dress, rubbing my face in that memory, is just a big fuck-you icing on the cake.

The fury comes back. So does the hatred, and distrust, and disgust.

With a vengeance.

Gabriel pales. “Mr. Carveli⁠—”

“You’re all a bit older now, so I don’t know if you recognize each other. But you and Alistair actually went to school with my Eloise.”

My Eloise.

I takes a lot—more than I want to admit—to stop myself from putting my fist through the table in front of me.

Better yet, through Massimo’s fucking face.

“Anyway, this is who you’ll be hiring,” Massimo smiles, a glint in his eyes. “Oh, and before you stick her in the mail room or something, let me be clear about my conditions. She works here for real. No bullshit. No sending her on lunch runs. She starts at Associate level.”

My face is too tight to react. Not to mention I’m still burning holes through Eloise’s fucking head with my eyes. But I can see Taylor and Gabriel both barely contain their own outbursts as they glance quickly at each other.

“Mr. Carveli,” Taylor says gently. “And with all due respect, Mrs. Carveli⁠—”

“It’s Ms. LeBlanc.”

Jesus. It’s the first time I’ve heard her voice in a decade. And I am not prepared for the snarling rage it sparks inside of me.

Eloise’s face tinges pink. “I…I never officially changed my name⁠—”

Her mouth snaps shut when Massimo whirls on her, his lips curled. Taylor clears her throat.

“Well, Ms. LeBlanc, our associate positions at Crown and Black are extremely coveted, and we only promote from within the existing junior associate pool⁠—”

“If my legal representatives don’t grasp what ‘non-negotiable’ means,” Massimo snarls quietly, “maybe I should be taking my business elsewhere.”

The conference room goes quiet.

“I believe we understand each other, Mr. Carveli,” Taylor murmurs.

Massimo grins widely. “Excellent. She starts tomorrow, along with our annual contract.”

Fuck no. FUCK no. I want to scream. I want to reach across the table and throttle him, or if nothing else, grab Eloise, drag her from the fucking building, and hurl her into the gutter where she belongs.

I can’t have her here. I won’t, even if she’s hidden away with the rest of the associates on their floor.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Massimo stands and buttons his suit jacket, signaling that the meeting is over. His eyes drag from Taylor to Gabriel and finally settle on me. He grins evilly and wags a finger at me. “Since I like this one so much, and since I think we probably have much in common…” His smile curls dangerously. “She works under you. Exclusively. Consider her your personal associate.”

What. The. FUCK.

“That’s not⁠—”

Gabriel grabs my bicep just above the elbow and squeezes, hard.

“We look forward to working wi—” He stops himself. “For you, Mr. Carveli. And we’ll see you tomorrow, Eloise.”

Massimo smiles a triumphant, shit-eating grin as he picks up his glass and drains the last of his Dalmore 62.

“I’m glad we’re all on the same page. Have the contracts ready by one this afternoon, and my people will come collect them. Ms. Crown?”

He eyes Taylor’s tits again before shaking her hand firmly.

Gabriel is next. “Mr. Black.”

“And Alistair.” He smiles broadly as he reaches across the table. I hesitate, and there’s no stopping my eyes from swiveling to lock with Eloise’s. I extend my hand and shake Massimo’s outstretched one, gritting my teeth.

The fucker turns and heads out, followed closely by his goon. Eloise stays where she is for a second, our eyes still locked, my sadistic side relishing the look of horror on her face.

Ten years ago, she fucked me up. She weaseled her way into a place no one gets into, and set the whole thing on fire.

She scorched me. Charred me. Cauterized any remaining weakness in me.

And now—now—here we are again, and this time, the power is all in my hands.

And she will rue the day she stepped back into my world.