Bound (The Devil’s Vow #2)

3. Staying Alive

Chapter three

Staying Alive

The sound of many footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing louder with each passing second.

It was definitely not one person approaching.

Who could this be? Was it his guards or men? Was it my stepfather?

The weight of their steps echoed into the dining room, and there was a sense of urgency in the way they moved, the sound becoming a building crescendo, each step louder than the last, as if whoever were coming couldn’t be stopped.

I turned to Gianni, wondering who was heading in here.

Gianni checked his watch and sighed in annoyance. “I thought I had more time before these jackasses arrived.”

“Jackasses?”

“Yes. Jackassess.” He grinned.

Before I could say anything, the door opened, and three tall, muscular men walked in, dressed in black and exquisitely tailored designer suits with black shirts and blood red ties.

And I had to admit that each one was absolutely gorgeous—all chiseled jawlines and wicked green gazes.

The man on the left was tall—at least six foot two—with a lean, muscular build, and long dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. There were hints of grey at his temples and on his beard which told me he was much older than he looked.

But what truly drew my eyes was the old scar slashing down from his forehead, over his right eye, and ending just above his cheek.

It didn’t detract from his beauty; if anything, it made him more striking, like a dark, dangerous king straight out of a forbidden fairytale.

Still, his green eyes were sharp—cold almost—but there was a wisdom in them too, a weariness that hinted at gun battles fought and won.

When Isabella turned to him, she cracked from the cage. “Jackass. Jackass.”

He glared at the bird, his voice low and menacing. "Gianni, I told you—she calls me that one more time, and I swear, I'll have her taken straight to my chef. We'll fry her up golden, lay her on a bed of creamy polenta, and garnish with a little basil on top. Capisce?"

The bird squawked, and he smirked, as if daring it to try him.

Oh shit.

Knowing my new husband’s temper, he might slice this man’s neck and make me a few bracelets out of the cartilage.

I turned to Gianni.

To my surprise, he began to laugh.

Okay. Good.

Then, Gianni pointed at him. “Erica, this is my older brother Stefan. Excuse his attitude, he’s always very grumpy.”

Aww. Now I see.

I thought back to when Gianni had told me his brothers’ ages.

Stefan is forty.

I put my view back on him, and saw the similarities immediately.

No wonder the man is so handsome.

Stefan frowned at him and then looked at me. “I would shake your hand or give you a warm hug welcoming you to the family, but my brother is psychotic and possessive.”

I blinked. “Nice to meet you.”

“Welcome to the family.” Stefan headed over to one of the empty seats at the table.

Gianni pointed to the next man. “This is Fabio.”

Isabella whistled and began bobbing her head up and down. “Staying alive. Staying alive.”

Fabio laughed.

Gianni sighed. “Unfortunately, my other older brother Fabio likes to teach Isabella songs. He plays them around her and even sings them with her.

“Staying alive. Staying alive.” Isabella bobbed that head again.

Fabio doubled over with laugher. He was slightly shorter than Stefan, probably about six feet, but no less imposing. His hair was cropped close to his scalp, and around his neck, a tattoo of black roses wound like a noose. Those petals were stunningly dark and inky against his olive skin.

Fabio had a different kind of beauty, a rough, rebellious edge to him that felt like he could both destroy you and protect you all at once.

And. . .Fabio is. . .thirty-five. Yeah. That’s right.

He went over to the bird cage. “Hey there, Isabella. One day your daddy is going to let me take you home.”

Gianni sighed. “That’s never going to happen.”

“And then we can dance some more.” Fabio began swaying his upper body and then just like that he began shooting his right arm up and down. “Staying alive! Staying alive!”

Isabella bobbed that head. “Staying alive! Staying alive!”

“Okay. That’s quite enough.” Gianni’s voice rose above them.

But all I could do was laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Fabio waved bye to Isabella. “Until next time my love.”

“Hail Ceasar!” Isabella chirped.

Gianni let out an exasperated breath. “Stop teaching her stupid shit.”

“You’re just jealous of our amazing relationship.” Fabio left the cage and waved to me. “Hello, sis. How are you doing today?”

I blinked. “Uh well. I’m doing fine. . .bro.”

“Bro?” Fabio considered it and then winked as he sat down across from us. “I like that. We’re going to be close, you and me. When my brother is a piece of shit, you call me up and I’ll handle him. Then, you can hide at my house.”

“You’ll handle nothing, and I will tear your property apart if you ever hide her.” Gianni waved him away and then pointed to the last brother who had been gazing at the food most of the time. “This is my baby brother Corrado.”

I took him in.

Although he was the youngest, he was the most physically imposing.

He had to be at least six foot six, and his frame was much more broad and powerful. His dark medium length hair was tousled, falling across his forehead in a way that made him look both boyish and threatening at the same time.

Corrado is twenty-five.

His green eyes were softer, though, less guarded than Stefan’s and less calculating than Fabio’s, but there was a wildness in those pupils—a recklessness that simmered beneath the surface.

Corrado's gaze shifted from the food to us, giving me a quick, polite nod before returning his attention to whatever dish had caught his eye.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled, strolling over to the table and snagging a piece of bread.

Stefano scolded. “Corrado, manners. There’s a lady present.”

Corrado sighed dramatically, came over to me, and smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. “Nice to meet you, Erica. Welcome to the craziness that is our family.”

“Thank you.”

“I can shake your hand because I’m Gianni’s favorite.” He extended a large hand towards me and when I placed mine into his, it was like a small bird getting swallowed by an eagle.

I chuckled. “Nice to meet you too.”

He let go of my hand, headed off, and began devouring the bread.

Gianni shook his head. “He is not my favorite.”

“That’s right.” Fabio winked. “It’s me.”

“I have no favorites,” Gianni corrected. “You all equally annoy me.”

Stefan leaned his head to the side. “And you’re no delight either.”

“I think that it's nice having a woman in the castle,” Corrado commented in between mouthfuls of bread. “It smells better here. Cleaner. There’s food now. Maybe, we'll finally have some fun here. Women like parties and things like that.”

O-kay. . .

And with that Corrado grabbed an empty plate and began making himself something to eat.

Stefan and Fabio joined him, grabbing plates and spooning food. However, Stefan was the most reserved, quietly putting items on his plate, while Fabio got one of everything and continued to whistle the Staying Alive song to himself.

Isabella croaked. “Staying alive! Staying alive!”

Gianni groaned. “Goddamn it.”

Chuckling, I took them all in.

Not bad DNA.

All of the Fortunato brothers could have been models, each one devastatingly gorgeous in their own right.

“Oh yes. This spread is epic. I love having a sister.” Corrado put one plate down and then began to pile food onto a second plate.

Grinning, I found myself in awe of the absurdity—and comfort—of the scene unfolding in front of me.

These men, these hardened mafia brothers who carried the weight of power on their shoulders, were here, joking, teasing, and. . .dancing to Staying Alive with a parrot.

It felt surreal, but oddly, it also felt right.

This is my family now? Well. . .not bad at all. I would surely take these brothers over Vito any damned day.

I leaned back in my chair, observing them some more.

Fabio was now leaning back casually in his chair too, his tattooed neck on full display, as he swayed a little to the rhythm still playing in his head.

Stefan had a permanent scowl etched on his face, though the way his eyes flickered with amusement gave him away.

Corrado, who had now sat down, appeared to be in his own world, happily devouring plate one and two almost at the same time. The man had a fork in both hands, and I just didn’t know how he was able to shovel food into his mouth so fast and consistently.

Wow. He would win a food eating contest.

Gianni murmured to me. “I bet Corrado already ate too. You will find that Corrado just. . .eats. . .nonstop. This is his super power.”

Corrado mumbled between bites. “I’m a growing boy.”

I chuckled.

Gianni gazed at them all, shaking his head like a parent with unruly children. “I apologize, Queen. I meant to tell you earlier that they would be coming over to meet you, but. . .our morning was uh. . .eventful.”

Warmth spread across my skin. “That’s fine.”

“No need for pleasantries, sis. Anyway, you’ll fit right in.” Fabio pointed his fork at me with a grin. “First piece of advice, sis—don’t take any of Gianni’s rules too seriously.”

I blinked. “His rules?”

“Oh, he’s got a list,” Fabio chuckled. “He likes to act all stern and commanding, but trust me, most of it is just for show. If you ever want to bend the rules a little, just bat those pretty eyes and—bam—he’s wrapped around your finger.”

Gianni groaned, but I saw the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Alright.” I nodded. “Bat my eyes to get what I want. Noted.”

Gianni chuckled.

Stefan raised an eyebrow. “Fabio, if you keep teaching her these manipulative tricks, she’ll have him more twisted than our mother did with our father.”

I shot Gianni a glance, but he just shrugged. “She already has me more twisted.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words.

Fabio grinned wider. “Rule two: always remind him that you’re his queen . He’s obsessed with that. Hell, when he was planning the wedding in these last few months, I’ve heard him use the word his queen more times than I have in my entire life.”

I blushed.

“True.” Corrado chimed in, mouth full of food. “He says it like it’s a damn spell. ‘My queen this, my queen that.’”

I smiled at him, and for the first time since my knowing him, Gianni actually looked embarrassed.

Stefan, clearly unimpressed by the mushy moment, cleared his throat loudly. “Enough of that.”

Stefan turned to me. “Listen, Erica. The key to surviving in this family is learning how to handle Gianni’s intensity. He’s possessive, yes, but he’s also deeply loyal. As long as you never give him a reason to doubt your loyalty, you’ll be fine.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

Fabio snorted. “Loyalty? We’re talking about Gianni here. The devil himself. He’s more jealous than loyal.”

“Same thing, Fabio,” Stefan shot back.

Fabio shrugged. “Alright, alright. I’ll rephrase, sis. Gianni’s the type of man who’ll burn cities for you. Like. . .if you even look at another man for too long, he’ll burn that city with the man in it.”

I laughed nervously, knowing that Fabio wasn’t truly joking.

“He’s not entirely wrong,” Corrado forked pasta. “But seriously, if he ever drives you crazy, just come find me. I’ll distract him with some stupid business deal. Works every time.”

“Thanks so much.” I smiled, appreciating the sibling-like bond already forming between us.

Despite their rough exteriors, these men clearly loved each other fiercely—and it seemed they were extending that same love to me.

“And don’t forget,” Fabio cut in, raising his glass in mock seriousness. “To survive in this family, you need to have a sense of humor. You’ll go mad without it. Gianni’s all broody and intense, Stefan’s a grumpy old man, Corrado eats everything in sight, and me? Well, I’m just a perfect sex god looking for the right sex goddess to warm my bed.”

I lifted my glass of wine. “And I hope you find that sex goddess.”

We both cheersed, while the others laughed.

And the rest of brunch passed in a blur of laughter, banter, and food.

As I sat there, surrounded by Gianni and his brothers, I found myself easing into the rhythm of their chaotic but loving dynamic. They teased each other relentlessly—especially Fabio, whose jokes bordered on the ridiculous.

But beneath it all was a deep loyalty that I could feel in every word they said.

I was becoming part of this family, and that realization settled in my chest with a strange, comforting warmth.

Finally, I belonged somewhere, and it felt. . .so damn good.

I just hoped that I could continue to survive in this crazy violent world.