Ruthless Vow (Vegas Vicious #2)

22. Nicole

22

Nicole

Another week passes and I feel like I am going to go out of my mind. Not at night—my nights are wonderful, spent in Leo’s bed, in his arms. It’s the days that are driving me mad. The morning after the family dinner, a treadmill arrived and was added to Leo’s home gym. I’m running five miles daily, but that only occupies me for less than 40 minutes a day.

Leo keeps me updated daily on any news about Sofia or Bianca. Unfortunately, those updates are sparse.

Finally, I ask Leo to put me to work.

He studies me for a long time, saying nothing, his obsidian eyes measuring, judging. Then he says, “Okay.”

The next morning, a new laptop arrives along with a cell phone and Leo assigns me a set of tasks. Mundane tasks that allow me no access to anything important… definitely no access to any of his less than legal activities. I’m allowed to schedule meetings, manage his calendar and handle daily business operations for his legitimate businesses, handle low-level communications, and make purchases online. The sort of tasks he would assign to a hired temp.

I’m not allowed to work on anything else and have no access to sensitive information. No access to less than legal operations, key contacts, security, or anything to do with finances.

It stings.

I’ve earned my place in his bed, but I haven’t earned his trust. Once trust is lost, it might never be regained. Worse, I feel the loss pf the respect he had for me as a professional.

Three more weeks pass. I’m less bored but no less distressed. I worry about Bianca planning an attack, hurting Leo or his family. I worry about Sofia constantly. It’s clear that my aunt is constantly having my sister moved because every time Leo gets a lead as to her location, she’s already gone by the time his people arrive. My only comfort is that if my aunt is moving my sister around, it means that Sofia is still alive.

The day before Sabina’s engagement party, Leo comes to find me in his office.

“Come with me,” he says, and offers his hand.

“Is that a request?” I ask with a laugh.

“Is it ever?” A slight smile curves the corners of his mouth.

It’s never a request, always an order. And I always know that I can refuse. We both enjoy Leo exerting control. But I know that if I said no, he would honor it. Except when it comes to my safety. He’s made it clear that he won’t negotiate when it comes to that.

I take his hand and he leads me upstairs to our shared bedroom. There’s a portable garment rack in the center of the room. On it hang a dozen gowns in various shades and silhouettes, separated from each other so the details of each are on display. A dozen pairs of shoes are arranged on the floor next to the garment rack and a variety of evening bags sit on the low dresser.

I look at Leo in confusion.

He settles himself on the chaise lounge in front of the window. “Pick something,” he says.

“Pick something?”

“To wear to the party tomorrow night.”

“Ohhh…” I say. I don’t know why I thought he’d be leaving me behind. Maybe because I haven’t left the house and grounds since the night Danila drove me into the desert with the instructions to end my life. Maybe because Sabina definitely will not want me at her party.

“You’ll be safe,” Leo says. “It’s Sabina’s engagement party. The entire Russo clan will be there along with the mayor, the governor, the chief of police, heads of other families. Security will be tighter than a noose around a rat’s neck.”

A charming comparison.

“It isn’t my safety that’s giving me pause. I don’t relish the thought of an evening surrounded by hundreds of people.” I’m the very definition of an introvert.

“I want you there, so you will be there,” Leo says. “Now, pick a dress.”

Panic stirs. “Pick a dress? How can you trust me to pick a dress to wear to your sister’s engagement party? As your date ? Have you never seen the dresses I’ve chosen?”

I have no sense of fashion, no idea what looks good on me. Oh, I can choose appropriate gifts for my boss to give a woman—jewelry, purses, scarves, clothes. But dress myself in an attractive way? I never had the chance to develop a style, to know what suits me or what looks good.

“Do as I say, Nicole. If nothing here appeals, I’ll have more options sent over.”

I move to the garment rack and study each gown in turn. I immediately push aside the dresses that are ivory or champagne. Though I know that both those colors suit me, Sabina is the bride. I won’t be wearing anything even remotely close to white.

Finally I choose an emerald green silk sheath with a halter neckline. There’s a gold-toned applique detail at the neck that looks like a teardrop. The back is low and draped, the slit on the side high. The label reads Tom Ford.

There are no sequins or sparkles. No ribbons or bows. It’s simple. Even plain in a way. I like it.

I put it on while Leo watches, his dark eyes glittering.

I pair it with neutral strappy sandals—the heels not too high because I’ve never quite mastered the knack of balancing on stilettos—and a simple clutch. I study my reflection in the full-length mirror.

“This one?” I say, hesitant.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Leo says.

I shake my head. “I don’t trust myself. I don’t know if I’ve made the right choice. I don’t know if—”

“Do you like it?” Leo cuts me off.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to try some of the others?”

Again, I look at my reflection. Finally, I say, “No.”

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulls out a folded slip of paper, and holds it out to me. I take it, unfold it, and read, green silk written in Leo’s bold, masculine hand.

“What would you have done if I had chosen one of the others?”

“I knew you wouldn’t because this one is perfect for you. You can trust yourself, Nicole,” he says, rising from the chaise lounge and walking to stand in front of me. “You can trust yourself to know what you do and don’t like. To be who you want to be.” Then he presses a kiss to my forehead and leaves the room.

I stare after him, tears stinging my eyes. How is it that despite his ridiculously controlling nature, he makes me feel like I’m the one in control?

“You are beautiful, my little wolf,” Leo tells me as we step from the limo the following night.

And for the first time in my life, I feel beautiful. Not just because of the dress and shoes and makeup. But because before we left the house, I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw.

“Not as beautiful as you are,” I say.

Leo is stunning in a classic black tux of the finest Italian wool, with hand-stitched edges and peaked satin lapels. The trousers are slim with satin stripes down the side seams. His black bowtie is silk, his cufflinks platinum and diamond.

Sabina and Roberto chose Chateau Rooftop and Nightclub for the party. As we exit the elevator, we’re greeting by a view of the iconic Eiffel Tower replica, the Fountains of Bellagio, and the glittering lights of the strip. The space is a mix of modern and classic, with plush lounge seating, firepits, all lit by a soft glow from the modern chandeliers. There are flowers everywhere, whites and ivories accented with blush pinks and silver. White-gloved staff members offer the guests champagne as they arrive.

Everything is beautiful. I’m thrilled for Sabina that she found a party planner to help her execute her vision. And I’m glad that Leo trusted me enough to help with the guest list because there were a number of names left off, including some that would have created ill will had the oversight not been remedied in time.

The one name that caused huge issues was Nikolai Ivanov. Leo was adamant against inviting Mikhail. As it happens, Mikhail is away on his yearly month-long trip to Russia, a fortunate coincidence. But Leo and Sabina butted heads over Nikolai. Leo said he needed to be on the list. Sabina said she despises him and refused to invite him, that his father murdered Salvatore and she would not have the son of her father’s killer at her party. Leo glared. Sabina glared. The fight went on for days. I didn’t ask who won.

The massive rooftop patio is already swarming with guests. And swarming with security, discretely dressed to the nines in tuxes to blend in as best as towering mountains of muscle can.

Leo’s palm presses to the small of my back, urging me forward. We wade into a pool of faces—some familiar, some not. Business associates, those legit and those not so legit. A few celebrities—a TV actor with a young and gorgeous showgirl on his arm greets Leo like they’re old college friends. But Leo didn’t go to college, I know that much.

“How do you know him?” I ask as we move along.

“I took care of a problem for him back when he was a nobody. He’s extremely grateful.”

It’s all he tells me. I take the hint that that’s all I probably should know about the situation. Still, my curiosity is piqued. There’s still so much about Leo that I don’t know. But I want to. I want to know everything—the good and the bad.

I see Dante sitting with a group of people near a fire pit. Cassio is with Luca at the bar.

Then I spot Alina and we make eye contact. She offers me a smile and approaches us with Damian at her side. They’re a stunning couple, Alina in a vibrant blue sequined gown with a plunging neckline, and Damian in a black tux with a silk bowtie in the same color and shade as Alina’s gown.

“How can someone who looks so gorgeous look so uncomfortable?” Alina asks, giving me a quick hug.

“I don’t get out much lately,” I say dryly.

Damian doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t look forbidding, either. “Nicole.”

“Damian,” I reply. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

Since the family dinner last month, I’ve had next to no contact with Leo’s brothers, other than a few moments of seeing them at the house. They were there to see him, not me, of course. We’d exchanged greetings and not much else.

I’m pretty sure they don’t want me dead. But they’re definitely not jumping at the chance to be my best friend, either.

“Have you seen our little sister?” Leo asks.

“She’s making the rounds with Roberto,” Damian says.

Leo sweeps his gaze across the crowd. “Any of his people here? I bought plane tickets for his parents. Got them a suite here at the Paris.”

“I don’t think he has many people,” Damian says. “A few friends, maybe. He’s from out East. This party is all Russo.”

Leo nods. “Do you think he knows what he’s getting into, marrying our girl?”

Damian gives him a smirk. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Good luck to him.” Leo laughs, a warm, hearty sound from deep in his throat. He laughs so rarely, it’s always a welcome surprise that sends a shiver of pleasure through me.

“We should talk,” Damian says with a quick glance at me.

“You have news?” Leo asks.

“Some intel out of Chicago.”

A breath catches in my chest. “About Bianca?”

Damian glances at me. “Yeah. She’s been keeping quiet, no sight of her in weeks. But we have security footage from this morning that places her at O’Hare.”

The airport.

“Going where?” Leo asks.

“Denver.”

“Denver,” I repeat, frowning. “Is that where Sofia is, maybe?”

“That’s the theory.” Damian says.

My heart kicks up a notch. It’s nothing definite, nothing certain. But it’s something.

“On another topic—”

“Urgent?” Leo cuts him off.

“I wouldn’t say extremely urgent.”

“Then it can wait till later. Let’s give Sabina our undivided attention for an hour before we all fuck off.”

“Fair enough,” Damian says. “Alina, I want to introduce you to a few people.”

“Sounds good,” she replies. As they move off, she gives me a nod of reassurance.

I accept it with gratitude. I’ll take what I can get.

“Thank you,” I say to Leo when they disappear into the crowd.

“For what?”

“Helping me with this. Helping me find my sister.”

“Thank me when we have her back. Not until then.”

I’m about to say something else, to find out everything I can about this whisper of hope, but I notice Sabina is approaching us. Her dark hair hangs in a sleek curtain to her shoulders. She wears a stunning silver and white gown and sky-high silver heels. Her arm is hooked into the arm of a man who looks to be in his mid-twenties. I haven’t seen him before, but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it’s her fiancé.

Luciana Russo, Leo’s mother, had a beauty many said could take one’s breath away. I’d seen enough photos to confirm this. She’d been drop dead gorgeous. Sabina inherited her mother’s looks—from her glossy raven hair, to her flawless complexion, and her icy blue eyes. Full lips—almost too full, but they work on Sabina’s face, giving her an effortlessly sultry look.

When she meets my gaze, her smile disappears and she looks away.

“Leo,” she says in greeting.

“Sabina, you look lovely,” Leo says calmly, kissing both her cheeks. Then he extends a hand to her fiancé. “Roberto, it’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Roberto says, his gaze flicking away from Leo, darting along the crowd.

“Roberto, may I introduce Nicole Milano,” Leo says. “Nicole, this is Sabina’s fiancé Roberto Costa.”

“Congratulations on your engagement.” I shake his hand as confidently as I can. His hand is a little damp, his grip limp.

“Thank you.” Roberto glances at Sabina, who stands rigid and tense by his side, and frowns. “Are you all right?”

Sabina pushes a smile on her face, but it looks forced. “Never better,” she says. “Go and get me a lemon drop martini, okay?”

After a tiny hesitation, he says, “Of course.”

Something I can’t decipher flickers in his eyes, but he departs without further delay.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” Sabina says to Leo.

I’m one hundred percent certain she’s going to complain about my presence. Our paths have crossed in the last month many times, but she’d never engaged me in conversation. Never shared a meal with us. I’ve gotten the cold shoulder. Leo told me to give her time. He hadn’t specified how long she’d need.

Clearly, a month isn’t long enough.

As far as I’m concerned, she can take as long as she needs—knowing fully that the day might never come that she considers forgiving me for what happened on the yacht.

“A bone to pick with me?” Leo repeats. “And what might that be?”

“Your addition to my guest list,” she says.

“Which one?”

“The one that you assured me wouldn’t accept. He accepted last minute. And he’s here.”

Leo’s brow rises. “Where?”

She gestures with her chin toward the nearby bar. “Drinking all the vodka, one would assume. I despise him, Leo. Please kick him out for me?”

I glance over toward the object of her disaffection.

Nikolai Ivanov. The thirty-year-old son of Mikhail Ivanov. Tousled dark hair, ice blue eyes framed in dark, curly lashes. The contrast is startling and stunning. He’s tall and his posture screams self-confidence, even cockiness. He looks more like a GQ model than the son of a Russian-born crime boss.

He’s watching us. Actually, no. He’s watching Sabina.

Instead of the aforementioned vodka, he has a glass of whiskey in his hand, and he raises it, a toast, in Leo’s direction.

“It’s good that he’s here,” Leo says.

“I disagree,” Sabina snaps.

“I understand why you feel that way.”

“His father murdered Papa.” Her voice breaks.

Leo’s expression softens a fraction. “It is important that those who claim to be allies to both the Russos and the Ivanovs see him here. Besides, Nikolai is not Mikhail. He has proven to have some use.”

She scoffs. “What are you, best friends now?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Fuck,” Sabina whispers. “He’s heading this way. Kill him for me, Leo. Pull out his heart through his ribcage. If he even has a heart.”

“Calm yourself,” Leo tells her. “This is business. That’s all.”

“Business, my ass.”

I watch tensely as Nikolai approaches. Got to say, I side with Sabina on this. I understand that inviting the head of an allied organization is necessary, and with Mikhail out of town, Nikolai Ivanov is the acting head, but it would be nice for Sabina to be able to celebrate her engagement with only people she actually likes.

Which would definitely not include me.

“Leonardo,” Nikolai says, a smile baring white, straight teeth.

“Nikolai,” Leo says.

There’s something in the exchange that makes me feel like it’s familiar to them, almost friendly, even though their voices sound anything but friendly.

“Sabina, you look lovely tonight,” Nikolai says. “Congratulations on your engagement.” The words are correct for the occasion, but his tone is off. He sounds… oddly annoyed. And more than a little sarcastic.

“Fuck you,” Sabina replies, two spots of color staining her cheeks. “Leave immediately.”

He chuckles. “You invited me.”

She glares at him. “Only because I didn’t think you’d accept.”

“And yet, I accepted.” His gaze never leaves her face.

“I see that.”

“I’ve been away for several weeks overseas. I only learned of your engagement a few days ago.”

“In case there’s any doubt, you’re not invited to the wedding.”

“If there is a wedding,” he says.

Her eyes widen. “That’s a terrible thing to say. There will be a wedding.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Their gazes are locked, hers fierce. His fierce. Then she spins and stalks away without another word. Nikolai keeps watching her, his blue eyes narrowed.

I realize that I’m holding my breath, witnessing their exchange. Clearly, Sabina holds nothing but contempt for Nikolai.

But Nikolai…there’s something in his gaze as he looks at Sabina. Something I can only describe as primal .

The man is dangerous. Every bit as dangerous as his father is. But this isn’t news to me or anyone in the Russo family.

Finally, Nikolai turns to Leo, who is watching him with a speculative expression.

“I apologize for my sister’s inability to fake friendliness,” Leo says.

“It’s fine. I appreciate a woman who speaks her mind.”

For an instant, Nikolai narrows his eyes. His lips are pressed together, his jaw tense. And then he exhales, his shoulders relaxing. I feel like in this very moment, he’s come to a decision about something important to him.

“Leo, I need to discuss something with you,” Nikolai says. “Something that can’t wait another day.”

“This is my sister’s engagement party and no place for business,” Leo replies, but I can see that his interest is piqued.

“I mean no disrespect. Quite the opposite, in fact. But again, I ask if we might speak in private.”

He waits. I wait.

And finally. “Very well, come with me.” Leo strokes the inside of my wrist. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Tensely, I watch him leave with the son of the man who killed his father.