Brutal Vows

Brutal VowsAN ARRANGED MARRIAGE MAFIA ROMANCETHE SANTORO MAFIABOOK TWO IVY DAVIS Copyright 2023 by Ivy Davis - All rights reserved. In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved. Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher. Contents 1. Adelina2. Matteo3. Adelina4. Matteo5. Adelina6. Matteo7. Adelina8. Matteo9. Adelina10. Matteo11. Adelina12. Adelina13. Adelina14. Matteo15. Adelina16. Matteo17. Adelina18. Matteo19. Adelina20. Adelina CHAPTER 1Adelina Ipull on my ballet shoes, tying the string into a cute little bow. I’ve had these slippers for years, and they show their wear. A hole is starting to form in the toe, and the sole won’t hold out much longer. I really need to get a new pair, but these shoes are special to me. They were the first pair I got once my feet stopped growing, back when I was a teenager. When I got them, they signaled a new beginning. A new era where I would become the woman I always wanted to be. A woman who dances freely. I stand on my tippy-toes and begin to dance, letting the classical music wash over me and the grace within my body take form. I know all these moves by heart; they’re second nature to my body. My mother put me into my first dance class when I was two years old. She passed away, along with my father, when I was eight, leaving my twin sister, Serafina, and me in the care of our older brother, Dario, who was eighteen when our parents died and the new head of the Santoro mafia. Since my mother died, I’ve cherished dance as my only remaining tie to her. I spin around faster and faster until I’m almost out of breath. I catch a glimpse of myself in the wall-length mirrors of my dance studio, noting the elegant lines of my body and my proper posture. My brown hair is tied into a tight bun that pulls my eyes back, giving me a natural facelift. I move to the music, making every step perfect. Each movement feels right and at home. Once the song ends, my dance over, I stand tall before the mirror, panting. It’s always exhilarating to finish a dance. That feeling of accomplishment can never be beaten. “Bravo,” a voice so similar to mine says from the doorway. Surprised, I jump, but I would know my sister’s voice anywhere. “Thanks,” I tell Serafina, wiping sweat from my bow. My dance studio is situated in our new home, in part because my brother is insanely protective and doesn’t want us to leave often for safety reasons. My twin approaches. We’re identical. The only difference is the beauty mark Serafina has near her left eye. Otherwise, everything else is the same. Same brown hair. Same slightly tanned skin. Same dark eyes. Even the exact same height. We’ve always been close. Which isn’t surprising considering we share a face and have lived every second on this earth together. Even so, despite our closeness, we’re still sisters, which means we bicker on occasion. But ever since we were almost kidnapped last year and had our home broken into, Serafina and I rarely fight now. We realized that life is too short to be mad at the one person who knows you just as well as you know yourself. “I’m always amazed at what you can do,” Serafina comments. “I can’t do any of that.” “That’s because you never learned to dance. Your hobby has always been scrolling on your phone.” I smile, letting her know I’m teasing. Serafina rolls her eyes. “Hey, I love my hobby. Nothing better than being on social media and doing nothing else all day.” “You just like to post pictures of yourself. You like the attention men online give you.” “Yes,” she says it so simply like it’s obvious. That’s one more difference between us. Serafina has always been bolder and wilder, with her dark, tight clothing and need for adventure. I’ve always been drawn to pastels and quietude. I’m content to dance alone while my sister desires more. I know she chafes at Dario’s demands to keep us in our home. We both know marriage is the only way we’ll truly experience more of life. I know Serafina hates the idea of being tied down, whereas I … I’m neutral about the idea. I don’t hate the idea of marriage, but I don’t love it either. “What I don’t understand,” she continues, “is why don’t you? We have the same face. And if men find me hot, then that means men will find you hot. Why not post some pictures of yourself online? You could grow a large following. I have over a million followers.” I sit down to take my ballet shoes off. “That’s because I don’t care about that. I just like to dance. I don’t need people to watch me.” And that’s true. I’ve never performed as a dancer. After our parents died, Dario made it his mission to keep Serafina and me as safe as possible from the outside world. I’ve never had the chance to perform, even if I wanted to. Serafina shrugs. “Suit yourself.” She sits down next to me. “God, I just want more, you know? I get all these comments from men telling me how hot I am. I wish I could go out there and meet them. Date. Have sex. You know? We’re twenty now. When will we ever get the chance to experience life?” I give her a pitying look. “I know you’re frustrated. But trust Dario. He’ll make good marriage matches for us, and then you’ll get to have all the sex you want with your husband.” She snorts, crossing her arms. “That’s assuming he’s hot. What if he’s old?