Vices and Vows: A Dark Mafia Romance, page 1
Vices and Vows © 2024 by Candice Wright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover design by Kirsty-Anne Still @The Pretty Little Design co.
Editing by Tanya Oemig
Proofreading by Briann Graziano
Created with Vellum
Contents
Author Note
Prologue
1. Nova
2. Nova
3. Nova
4. Nova
5. Nova
6. Nova
7. Vice
8. Nova
9. Nova
10. Vice
11. Nova
12. Vice
13. Nova
14. Vice
15. Nova
16. Vice
17. Nova
18. Vice
19. Nova
20. Vice
21. Vice
22. Nova
23. Nova
24. Vice
25. Nova
26. Vice
27. Nova
28. Vice
29. Nova
30. Vice
31. Nova
32. Vice
33. Nova
34. Vice
35. Nova
36. Vice
37. Nova
38. Vice
Epilogue
Epilogue II
Also by Candice Wright
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Trigger Warnings
This book is dedicated to Michele Surbaugh.
An author can spend a lifetime waiting for a reader like you to come along.
Thank you for the million and one voice mails that made early mornings that much easier to deal with and for reminding me why I started this journey to begin with.
Author Note
Trigger warnings are located at the very end of the book.
For the rebels who go in blind;
It’s worth remembering that Vice Moretti is an anti-hero at best, a villain at his worst, and a monster for the parts in between. This love story is raw and toxic and, like the man himself, a little unhinged.
Please proceed with caution.
“It seems to me, that love could be labeled poison and we’d drink it anyways.”
— Atticus
Prologue
The streets run red with not just the blood of my enemies but with the blood of those I loved, those I swore to protect.
I could feel the beast inside me rising, begging for its pound of flesh. Even drowning in grief, I knew all I’d accomplish was more of what I was seeing now: blood, death, torment.
I take in the bodies strewn across the tarmac, limbs bent and twisted at unnatural angles, bullets marring previously unblemished skin.
I harden myself to it.
They want a war? So fucking be it.
My breath catches as my eyes fall on my son. My boy.
My hands fist at my sides, aching to reach out to him, but I hold steady, knowing if I break now, I’m giving those bastards precisely what they want.
Still, I can’t leave him like this.
I drop to my knees, not giving a single fuck that my five-thousand-dollar suit is now soaked from the blood.
So much blood—more pints than years he’s been alive. Now he’s gone, and I can’t put him back together. I can’t fix what I broke.
What good is money when I can’t pay off the reaper with it?
Sliding my arms under his legs and neck, I lift him and stare into his eyes, so much like my own, and bite back a sob.
At fourteen, Neo was on the cusp of becoming a man. But holding him now, all I see is the boy who was my shadow.
And now he’s a ghost. One more soul to haunt me.
I hear Alessio speak. “We need to get out of here, Boss.”
I know he’s right, but making my body move is something else altogether. “They killed my boy,” I hiss at him.
“And you’ll make them pay, but you can’t do that if you’re dead too.”
I nod as he steps to me and holds his arms out. Swallowing hard, I pass the body to him before sliding my fingers over Neo’s eyes, closing them for the last time. I feel vomit rush up my throat, but I keep my face impassive. A don never shows weakness.
“Put him in the car and call for a clean-up. I want the rest of my family on lockdown.”
“Already on—” His words are cut off by one of my men.
“Reports of gunfire at your house, sir.”
My eyes flare before I run to my car, my men right behind me. I climb in the back and take Neo once more, cradling him to my chest now that we’re behind closed doors. My driver and guard know better than to say anything.
I breathe Neo in as the car speeds home, a sense of unease pressing in on me. I already know, deep down, what I’m going to find.
When we pull up outside my house, I lay Neo gently on the back seat before jumping out, ignoring the shouts of my men.
The door is wide open, and a guard lies dead on the floor just inside the entrance with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. I step over him, draw my gun, and run up the stairs, not bothering with stealth.
The smell hits me before I even open the door to the bedroom—the sweet, coppery tang of blood filling the air.
I shove the door open and stand there, taking in the scene before me. A naked man lies on the floor, his body riddled with bullets. Just one of the nameless faces my wife fucks on the side. I ignore him, my eyes fixed on the bed.
There lies my wife, naked and bound spread-eagle to the bedposts as blood oozes from the bullet wound between her eyes. Bruises cover every inch of her pale skin, her wrists and ankles rubbed raw. The inside of her thighs and pussy are slick with cum, as are her face and chest. Her eyes stare in sightless terror at the mirror above the bed, the brutality of her death reflected back at her.
I turn and almost collide with the two men behind me. I shove them out of my way and run back down the stairs. I hear footsteps thundering after me, but I don’t stop. If my wife and son are gone, there is only one target left—my daughter.
I jump into the back of the Rolls just as my men reach the car and climb in.
“The park. Now,” I order. The car speeds away before the doors are even closed.
“Boss—”
I hold up my hand to stop Alessio. I can’t. Whatever he was going to say needs to fucking wait. Nobody speaks after that. The only sound is the ragged breathing of three men on edge.
That’s when I remember that my daughter isn’t the only one in danger.
I look at the man opposite me, whose face is blank as he sits ridged. Alessio has dedicated his life to me, and now he might lose his daughter too. I look away. I have nothing to give him. No words of comfort, no false promises. The likelihood of our daughters surviving the night is virtually non-existent.
As the car pulls up outside the park, we all dive out, guns drawn as we run to where a small crowd has gathered. I push my way past them, stopping when I see the woman’s body on the ground.
“Get these fuckers out of here,” I yell to my men as the gawkers continue to just stand around.
I crouch and slide the hair off the woman’s face before looking down and seeing that she’s been shot in the chest.
“That’s the nanny, so where the fuck are the kids?” I hear Alessio snarling behind me.
I’m already up and looking. Part of me almost hopes I find them dead. If my enemies have taken them, death would be a kindness. The now deserted park looks sinister as the day bleeds to night, the lone swing creaking in the breeze.
I whip my head around at the faint sound of crying. I zero in on the playground and see the neon-colored tubes woven in and out of the main structure for the children to crawl through and slide down. I climb the frame and listen for more crying. The night is eerily quiet once more, as if the darkness is holding its breath.
There. A sniffle. I duck my head and look inside the large green tube and find two sets of terrified eyes looking up at me—one set just like her mother’s. My daughter has her arms wrapped around Alessio’s girl, trying to comfort her. But now that I’m here, she doesn’t need to be strong anymore.
“Daddy,” she whispers as I reach for them both.
She wraps her arms around my neck and holds me tightly as I pass the other little girl to her father. I stand there for a moment, breathing her in, holding her trembling body a fraction too tight as I fight to get my emotions back under control.
“I want Mommy.”
I shudder at her words, supporting her with one arm as I use the other to climb back down.
“Me too,” I whisper into her hair for only her little ears to hear.
She lifts her head, her wet eyes staring into mine with a knowledge way beyond her
“I love you,” I murmur to her, something inside me breaking.
“Love you too,” she replies, laying her head against my shoulder, her hand wrapping around the necklace she is wearing. I lift my head, my eyes meeting Alessio’s. His daughter is in much the same position as mine. Though they are both safe for now, it comes with the understanding that it wasn’t my money or men that kept them safe, but sheer fucking luck.
A feeling of helplessness washes over me, something I haven’t felt since I was a boy. I push it down, letting my anger smother my fear. This day will haunt all the rest that follow. No act of war or vengeance will bring back all that I’ve lost, but I’ll be damned if I let the bastards take any more. If they want a war, I’ll give them a war. But first, I need to make sure my daughter isn’t caught in the crossfire. She needs the kind of protection I alone can’t give her.
I stare at the man opposite me, who has already given me so much, and order him to give me more.
“Tell me, Alessio, just how loyal are you?”
His eyes widen. “You don’t have a man more loyal than me,” he answers, his voice devoid of any anger, though I’m sure my question pissed him off. Questioning a man’s loyalty is akin to testing his integrity.
“Good, because I need something from you.”
“Anything. Just tell me what it is.”
I lick my lips, wondering if he’ll still feel that way in a minute. “I want your daughter.”
He takes a step back, wrapping his arms tighter around his child.
“What?”
“It’s simple. I need yours to protect mine.”
Chapter 1
Nova
Twenty Years later
Istare at the bed as another ridiculously overpriced scrap of material is tossed onto it.
“All I’m saying is you need to make yourself fucking scarce for a few hours. What’s hard to understand about that?” the snippy voice from inside the closet yells at me before another dress finds its way onto the discarded pile.
“I can’t very well guard you, Gia, if I’m not beside you,” I point out, ignoring the curse words flying out of her mouth. Honestly, this is nothing new. Gia is every inch the spoiled Mafia princess. She’s also the sole remaining heir to the Fiore family throne after her brother and mother were killed on a night that ushered in what people called the dark days.
“I don’t fucking get it.” She stomps out of the closet completely naked, her hands on her hips, as she snarls at me, “You’re my day guar—”
I hold my hand up before she can go off on a tangent. “Mike and David are sick with a stomach virus, so you’re stuck with me until your father says otherwise.”
She growls and stomps away like a petulant child, not a twenty-four-year-old grown-ass woman.
I roll my eyes and lean against the wall, wishing I was at home watching TV in my pajamas. Not that I get to do that much, but right now, I’d rather get fingered by Freddy Krueger than babysit Gia.
“Aldo is the underboss. My daddy—”
“Would not let you be alone with him, and you know it, Gia. You’re the princess here. You know the rules better than I do. So, tell me, what would your father do to lover boy if he found you two alone together?”
When she says nothing, I push my point home. “Underboss or not, your father would slice him up before delivering him back to his family, piece by piece.”
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it, Nova?” She hisses my name before she slips on a sparkly metallic dress without underwear. “You’re bitter and jealous that I’m the princess, and you’re nothing more than the help. It’s fucking laughable. The consigliere’s daughter becoming a bodyguard… You’re a joke. What man will want to marry you?”
I sigh and cross my arms over my chest. “I know this is a hard concept for you to grasp, Gia, but not all of us want to get married. Not all girls dream of being a bride. Walking down the aisle of a church filled with people I barely know, who eagerly await their first glance at the morning’s bloody sheets, holds no appeal to me.”
“Liar. You say that now, but we both know that once I’m married, my husband will get rid of you in a heartbeat. Either that, or he’ll give you to his guards to play with.” She smirks as I sense a presence behind me.
Spinning, I have my gun in my hand and pointed before I realize it’s my boss, Vigo Fiore.
Ignoring the gun in his face, he looks at his daughter.
“Gia,” he reprimands. He doesn’t usually stop her vitriolic attacks, so I’m surprised he says anything now. “Nova’s father is my consigliere. If nothing else, you will respect that.”
Dropping my gun, I refrain from rolling my eyes. Of course, the dressing down was for my father’s benefit, not mine. I am just a woman, after all.
“Now, where is the rest of your dress?”
“It’s Versace, Daddy.”
“It’s not befitting of a Fiore,” he states coldly. “Change or stay home.”
Wisely, Gia bites her lip, knowing better than to argue with him.
Turning to me, I brace myself as he looks me up and down. Thankfully, I don’t get any skeevy vibes from the man. Still, there is something in how he looks at me that makes me feel off. There have been times—like now—when I swear I catch flashes of guilt in the older man’s eyes, but before I can be sure, it’s gone, replaced with a look of scorn and dismissal.
“You will finish watching Gia tonight and return to your regular duties tomorrow. I have moved some men around to cover those who are sick.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. He nods, watching my face a second too long for my liking, before he walks out, leaving me and a pissed-off Gia alone again.
“This is all your fault.”
“Yes, I put laxatives in your guard’s food because I miss you so much at night I can’t bear to be apart from you,” I answer dryly.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. Storming over until we are chest to chest, she somehow manages to look down her nose at me in that stuck-up way of hers, even though we’re the same height.
“Careful, Nova. You think you’re so fucking smart, but one word from me and I could destroy you. Not just you, but dear old Dad too.” She leans forward. “Who do you think my daddy would believe if I told him someone was making me uncomfortable, touching his little angel inappropriately?” she says in a saccharin-sweet voice.
I don’t give her the reaction she’s after, used to this stupid game of hers.
“Well, I’d like to think your father is where he is because he’s a smart man. You could try to push your lies on him, but I’m not so sure you’d come off as the helpless victim. Still, we both know you’re going to do what you’re going to do, Gia.”
She shakes her head in disgust. “You’re so fucking weak, it’s pathetic.” She steps back and strips out of her dress, tossing it on the floor before returning to her closet.
I move over to the wall and lean against it, blowing out a breath as I pray for strength. Lord knows you need it when it comes to Gia. She’s enough to test the patience of a saint. She can say what she wants to me, and she has over the years. My indifference to her words makes her more and more spiteful.
The thing that Gia hasn’t realized is that she’s not special. Sure, her dad is the don, and in the Italian Mafia, it doesn’t get much more powerful than that. But Vigo’s power is not Gia’s. In the Cosa Nostra, women are nothing more than pretty objects and bargaining chips. I’m the only exception to the rule.
I’m not naïve, though. There is some truth to Gia’s words about men not wanting me because of my role as her guard. Men with large egos tend to balk at the idea of a woman being stronger than them or more skilled in combat. When the time comes, though, I’m not stupid enough to believe I’ll get a free pass. I’ll either end up with someone old enough not to give a shit beyond me having a perky set of boobs or someone who will see my strength as a challenge, something he can break.
I shake my head. Those thoughts are not something I need to dwell on right now. I have enough to deal with today without worrying about the future.
As Gia steps out of the closet, this time in a far more demur navy blue dress, I wonder if some of her anger comes from the fact that she’s not married either. Twenty-four might seem young, but in the Mafia, most women are married off when they are eighteen. There have been whispers questioning why a marriage hasn’t been arranged yet for the don’s only daughter, but most speculate that it’s the don wanting to make sure he leaves his throne to the right successor. After all, a Mafia marriage has very little to do with the bride and more to do with power, prestige, and money.
