Bound (The Devil’s Vow #2)

9. The King’s Court

Chapter nine

The King’s Court

Minutes later, we walked toward the ballroom.

The soft click of my heels echoed against the marble floor.

I took a quick glance at Gianni.

Even in the tuxedo, with the scars and tattoos hidden beneath the designer fabric, there was no mistaking who he was.

No one would look at Gianni and ever see anything other than a dangerous man—one who could kill without hesitation. The promise of death radiated from him in violent waves, and his very presence was a warning to anyone foolish enough to cross him.

My twins and other men trailed behind us.

Several guards stood by the ballroom doors—men with hard faces. Their eyes were cold and empty like they’d seen more death than life.

Still, I could feel their fear of Gianni as they bowed their heads slightly when we approached.

One spoke, “Good evening, Don Fortunato.”

Gianni didn’t waste his words speaking to them.

Instead, he merely inclined his head—a small acknowledgment that probably held more power than any words could.

This is going to take a lot to get used too.

Once we entered the ballroom, I could hear the low hum of conversation, the soft clinking of glasses, and the distant sound of a live band playing some elegant, melancholic melody.

Wow.

The ballroom was massive with high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers.

I’d seen it a little during my tour with Makayla, but now it took my breath away.

Tonight, the ballroom was beautiful in a haunting way. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, and the floor gleamed with polished black marble.

At the far end of the room, a stage had been set up where the live band played.

The music floated through the air.

Waiters moved silently through the crowd, carrying trays of champagne and delicate pastries. Their faces remained expressionless as they served.

The air ran thick with the scent of expensive cologne and perfume, mingling with the sharp bite of cigar smoke.

Hundreds of men and women filled the space, all dressed to impress.

Many moved in small clusters, laughing, talking, or simply observing the room with the kind of cold detachment that only killers could master. Those would be some of the Six Families handling the crime in Obsidian Bay and under the direct order of Gianni.

I checked the other side of the ballroom and saw even more men near the walls, drinking and smoking—mafia bosses, capos, soldiers.

Bonafide psychotic killers.

A room full of deranged predators always waiting for the right moment to strike.

And yet, as Gianni and I stepped deeper into the ballroom, the attention of the room shifted as well as the energy.

The band’s music lowered.

Conversations halted.

And all eyes turned toward us, some in awe, others in fear. But all of them recognized what I had come to understand this week.

I was walking next to the most powerful and dangerous man in the entire room.

No, in the entire city.

The kingpin.

The Don.

The man who’s name alone struck fear into the hearts of anyone who dared speak it.

And I was his wife.

His queen.

The woman he had killed for tonight, without hesitation.

The woman he would probably keeping on killing for in the future.

A strange and fucked up sense of peace settled over me as I clung to his arm.

It probably didn’t make any sense, but I felt. . .safe.

Safer than I had ever felt before in my whole life.

I had returned to this criminal world that I once thought I had escaped, but now, standing beside Gianni, I realized I didn’t want to leave.

This is where I belonged.

This is the life I was meant for.

We moved through the crowd, and men stepped aside, parting like the Red Sea, giving Gianni the space and respect he commanded without him having to utter a single word.

The women, draped in jewels and silks, glanced my way with curiosity or envy, but I could feel the distance between us.

I was no ordinary mafia wife; I was the queen beside the king.

Therefore, no one dared approach us.

No one dared question who I was.

No one even whispered, probably too scared to draw Gianni’s attention in the wrong way.

Okay. This is a. . .whole lot.

Gianni led me to a small alcove near the back of the room, where a cluster of older men stood in quiet conversation, all dressed in power and wealth.

I knew, even before Gianni introduced them, that these men were among the highest-ranking in the ballroom.

Not just soldiers or capos. These were Made Men.

Men who had passed the ultimate test. Men who had been formally inducted into the ranks of La Cosa Nostra.

The title carried with it a certain status that set them apart from the rest of the criminal world.

I’d learned long ago from standing by the door of my stepfather’s office and listening in, that to become a Made Man wasn’t just an elevation in rank—it was a sacred rite, a higher blood oath.

It was akin to being baptized in loyalty to the family—a commitment that ran deeper than any contract.

Becoming a Made Man was no easy feat either. It wasn’t just about committing crimes or being useful to the family. It required trust—absolute, unshakable trust.

Additionally, each man had to be sponsored by someone within the family , someone who would vouch for them, who would stake their own reputation, and often their lives, on their loyalty.

After the men proved themselves through many years of service, often in violent and brutal ways, they were finally considered for induction.

But even then, it wasn’t guaranteed.

One night, I’d watched a ceremony from the living room window. I’d been outside, ducking low in the bushes and holding my teddy bear.

I had no idea what was going on.

My stepfather and others surrounded a man who held a picture of some Catholic saint.

My father said several words in front of him and then set the picture on fire.

The flames had consumed the picture and even hit the man’s fingertips. Still, the man didn’t let go of the flaming picture even though I could clearly see he was in pain.

Finally, when the image had been reduced to ashes and the man’s fingers were pretty burned, my stepfather let him drop the tiny bit that was still in his hands.

Then, everyone else in the room congratulated the newly Made Man. Next, they poured him a glass of wine that. . .I swore wasn’t just wine.

Perhaps, it was some of their blood too.

It just looked. . .thick like syrup and when he swallowed it, he squinted several times.

Either way, the ceremony had been terrifying and fascinating to witness.

Once a man was made, there was no way out. He was bound for life, and betrayal was punishable by death.

Now, I stood in the midst of these men who had surely passed through that same trial by fire, and one by one, the men greeted us.

Gianni unwound his arm from mine, but his hand went to the small of my back and never left it.

Each man studied me with an intensity that would have made a normal woman cringe away.

But I remembered how when I was a little girl, my mother would stand tall and meet everyone’s gazes head on.

So, I did the same.

There were many men greeting me yet making sure to not touch my hand or lower their gaze to my chest.

Gianni was watching and we all knew he would yell for Sofia if he felt that anybody’s gaze lingered.

A few minutes later, my stepfather stepped forward and gave me a sad and nervous smile. “Bella, h-how are you?”

I tensed. “Fine.”

“Good.” He bobbed his head. “Very good. I hoped. . .the transition would be. . .fine.”

“It’s fine.”

Maximo glanced at Gianni and then looked back at me. “So then. . .all is well?”

Gianni nodded. “More than well.”

Maximo swallowed. “Then, the vow is done, Don Fortunato?”

Gianni tensed. “It is done.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “The vow?”

Maximo blinked.

Gianni held up his hand. “I will explain it to her later.”

Of course I wanted to argue, but I’d already got the lesson about slapping him in front of his men. Plus, I knew whatever secret he had, he would not reveal it in front of my stepfather.

I sighed and looked at Maximo. “And. . .how is Vito?”

The line of his jaw twitched. “He is healing.”

Gianni spoke, “And do you think he has learned his lesson?”

I tensed.

Maximo turned to him, and I could tell that it was difficult to humble himself to Gianni for this much time—a man much younger than him. However, Maximo gulped down whatever pride he had and gave a small nod. “My son has learned his lesson, Don Fortunato.”

“Good. Never have him come around my wife again. If he does, well. . .” Gianni took us away without saying anything else.

I didn’t dare look back, but I could feel my stepfather’s angry gaze on us.

Fuck. Well. . .you gave me to him, Maximo. Keep Vito away or lose your only son.

We walked further into the ballroom, and the hum of low voices rose once again as people resumed their conversations, but there was an undeniable shift in the energy.

The men we passed nodded in respect, and some even waved cautiously, as if they feared doing anything that might displease Gianni.

A waiter approached us with a tray of champagne. “Good evening, Don Fortunato.”

Gianni plucked a glass from the tray and handed it to me.

The bubbles sparkled in the dim light of the chandeliers, and I took the glass, letting the cold surface press against my palm.

He grabbed his own glass without a word, and we continued to walk, and the crowd continued to part for us. “I must explain something.”

“What?”

“No one will be initially greeting you this evening. I’ve asked the staff and guards to not even look your way.”

“Gianni, that’s ridiculous. Why can’t they greet me?”

“I am uncomfortable with the idea for now, but soon. . .I should be fine with it.”

“It’s just saying hello to me.”

“Many aren’t worthy to speak to you just yet.” He gazed at me. “But, I will work on my feelings about this, Queen.”

I glanced at the champagne. “I think you’re being extra.”

“Probably.” He grinned. “How do you feel right now?”

I looked at him. “I feel fine. Next to you.”

“And you will be next to me the whole night. I don’t trust any of these men to not take you for themselves.” His grip tightened ever so slightly on my back.

“I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to even try, Gianni.” I sipped my champagne.

The crisp taste of the liquid barely registered as my mind spun with questions.

How had Gianni risen to this level? How had he become the Don?

Gianni exchanged brief nods with several men. The whole time he kept his hand still resting protectively on the small of my back and guiding me along.

I glanced up at him. “When I left Obsidian Bay, my stepfather was in charge.”

“That is correct.” And Gianni had said those words as if. . .he’d known me long ago when I was fourteen and heading off to boarding school.

But that couldn’t have been the case, he would have been twenty-two. What the hell was he doing then?

He gave me a wicked smirk as if he could read all the questions filling my head.

But. . .he does look familiar. I think. . .I’ve seen him before but. . .I have no idea where or when.

“What’s on your mind, Queen?”

“How did you become Don?”

Gianni’s lips curved into a small, almost dangerous smile as he glanced down at me. His green eyes flickered with something dark, something powerful, but also with a strange sense of pride.

He took a sip of his champagne and then spoke, “I should thank you for that.”

I blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You were my motivation for taking the crown.”

“When and why?”

“That we will talk about later.”

I frowned. “I want to know now—”

“Makayla told me that you asked about the office and wanted to see it.”

“Why is Makayla tattle telling on me?”

“Because I asked about the tour, and when I ask people things,” he winked. “I can be pretty persuasive.”

“What’s in your office?”

“Some things you shouldn’t see until you’re ready.”

The mystery of Gianni was eating me up. It was like a voracious flame, devouring every thought and emotion within me, leaving only a charred longing and a desperate need for answers.

“I don’t fucking like this.”

Gianni deepened that wicked smirk. “You’re mad, little princess?”

“Now I’m your princess?”

“When my cock is hard you are.”

“Well, you keep hiding secrets from me and your cock will not experience me anymore.”

“Careful, princess. I will take you right in the middle of the ballroom and fuck you in front of everybody whether you want this cock or not, and no one will stop me. Not even you.”

I blushed. “Not funny.”

He leaned in close and brushed his lips along the tip of my ear. “That wasn’t a joke.”

I shivered.

“That being said, I will tell you a little bit tonight.” He led me toward a grand staircase that I had not seen on the tour. “The title of Don wasn’t easily handed to me, I can tell you that much.”

I eyed him.

“Everything I have, I took, and I did it all because of you.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“My family and your stepfather’s family have always been close. I remember being a kid at your mother’s and Maximo’s wedding.”

I’d been three during their wedding so Gianni would have been eleven . And I knew without a doubt that I didn’t remember anything from that occasion.

I’d only seen pictures.

He chuckled to himself. “You were the flower girl. A little, tiny brown creature wrapped in white lace and flowers.”

I widened my eyes.

“You wore this little white dress,” His gaze was focused somewhere in the distance as he relived the memory. “When everyone turned your way, you got to the middle of the aisle, had a tantrum, and threw the petals all over the place, instead of walking it down the aisle. Tears running down your face and screaming for your mommy.”

“No way.”

“Yes. I remember thinking you were such a terror.”

My cheeks warmed.

“I also remember many laughed because you were so cute, and your mother—the bride—came out from the back in this beautiful gown. You calmed down instantly. Then, she picked you up and took you down the aisle. It sort of messed up the ceremony because the bridesmaids had to hurry in after her, but all she cared about was consoling you.” Gianni shifted that smirk to a warm smile. “The rest of the ceremony, you held your mother’s hand through the vows, through it all. My mother thought you were the cutest little girl, while I thought the whole occasion was stupid and boring. I just wanted to get out of there and out of that damned uncomfortable tie. But I was just a kid. What did I know?”

“I wish I could remember more about my mother. . .”

“I can remember her for you.”

We got to the stairs, and he led us up them.

My heart ached with each step.

When we reached to the top, instead of taking us around the corner he stopped us and turned to me. “Your mother was the most beautiful woman in Obsidian Bay. Many of the wives despised her, but I fear some just hated your mother for her skin color.”

I frowned.

“She stayed to herself during big occasions like this. I got the feeling that. . .she knew how hateful many felt towards her. Therefore, she remained by Maximo’s side and never ventured too far away from him.”

“That’s sad.”

“She was still powerful, just like you are, Queen. But, she moved in silence and didn’t play any of those power games that some mafia wives do. My mom said that all she cared about was you, Vito, and her garden.”

His words hung heavy in the air between us.

Then, he shrugged. “But, we’ll talk more about all of that later.”

“No. I want to know more right now.”

He led us away. “We have a party to enjoy, Queen.”

“But what else do you remember about my mother? And what does that have to do with your becoming Don or wanting to marry me?”

“Later, Queen.”