Cunning Vows: Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance (Lethal Vows Book 3)

“Is that the right spot, miss?” I shake my head in frustration. Nothing is working. Not even his mouth on my clit. Clay notices the shift in my mood, but Vance continues to work his mouth on my breast.

“What about here, miss?” he asks as he tugs on my nipple with his teeth.

“Just stop. Both of you, stop. It’s not working.” I push them away, and they back off obediently. Both sit naked at the end of the bed, waiting for either approval or another command from me. Just as God intended it to be.

But let’s be real, God has no place in this room. Only fucking.

Even that’s not working as the distraction it was intended to be.

Reaching for my phone, I check my messages, hopeful the private investigator has sent me a useful update.

Fucking nothing. No sign of my twin brother, Alek.

It’s driving me mad, so fucking mad, that he up and left without a word. He would never do that. We’re twins, but more than that, we’re best friends. I do everything for him.

I trust no one in this life. Except for him.

So why did he leave me without a single trace as to his whereabouts?

“We could try again, miss,” Clay offers, always eager to please me. I look up to see Vance nodding in agreement.

I never thought there would be something that could sour my libido, but the thought of my brother is most off-putting.

“Go, do whatever you do when I’m in here.”

“We do you when you’re here.” Vance winks. He won’t get a smile out of me. No man does unless I want something, but it eases my tension ever so slightly to know how eager these two are for me. At my beck and call whenever I please. It’s powerful, and something I very much like the taste of.

Doing as they’re told, they begin to put their clothes back on. Vance and Clay work for me in more ways than one. They have been here more lately, due to my neediness in an attempt to distract myself.

My brother left me in the lurch.

Because there is no possible way he got killed or abducted. Alek is way too smart for something like that to happen… way too deadly for it as well.

But it’s been weeks with no contact or sighting.

All business dealings have been left to me, but it doesn’t bother me, since I handle most of the business anyway. But… I’m used to having him around. All our lives, we’ve had each other. We were in and out of foster homes from the age of four until our final one at seven, when we were placed with a wicked older lady who dabbled in illegal things. She was also Russian, and her accent gave us a tiny glimmer of what home might’ve felt like with our parents before they abandoned us. But there was no love, only sharpening us as tools to be used in her dirty dealings. One thing I will give the old bitch is she made us who we are, and our business is just as cutthroat. She never took shit from any man, just shaped the rules and made a shitload of money in the process.

I thank the old bitch, but I also hate the hag.

Meredith showed us calculated cruelty when she should have shown us some sort of love. She ensured we were to never call her Mother or Meredith, but instead insisted on Chief. I call her old bitch in my head and sometimes call her Meredith just to piss her off.

The Chief is a cunt.

Rolling out of bed, I reach for my red silk robe and throw it on before pressing call on my phone.

It rings.

And it rings.

And it rings.

He never picks up.

But at least it rings. Right?

It asks me to leave a voice message.

“Alek. Alek, you better fucking call me back. Call me back!” I end the call and throw my phone on the bed.

I’m frustrated with not knowing Alek’s whereabouts. Not that I would ever show the tiny sliver of weakness I have in my armor. But sex is the only thing I ever have to depend on to release that tension. Well, it’s the one I most enjoy. It’s powerful, the way men will drop to their knees and beg to worship me. It’s always when I feel my most powerful. Of course, I can kill people, which offers an entirely different release, but that’s more my brother’s thrill then mine.

With Alek gone, it means I also have to handle his contracts and negotiations, which doesn’t usually faze me. But we’ve had a rather persistent newcomer lately, one who I have to meet with soon, and I have very little interest in doing so.

However, this particular man has certainly grabbed my attention, and not in a good way. He blew up one of my favorite shops that sold rare jewelry collections. It was the moment he seriously grabbed my attention.

I’ve since had my people gather everything they can about the elusive River Bently.

Walking to the bathroom, I rake my fingers through my red hair and put it up in a tight bun before I start on my face, applying makeup and red lipstick.

It’s mechanical. I’ve done this every day from the age of fifteen. Polished. Regal. Beautiful. I have to be all of these things to remain cunning in my role since I mostly deal with businessmen. I use it to my advantage. If a man looked down on me for being a woman, he still wanted to fuck me because of it. And that is always their weakness.

But no one would ever own me.

No matter what they offer or how hard they try.

I drop the robe on the edge of the white clawfoot tub rimmed with gold, then walk back into my bedroom. Two white floor-to-ceiling pillars frame my king-sized bed with a gold headboard. The beautiful chandelier glitters from the remaining sunlight that slips through the bay windows as sky turns to dusk. I slip through the wall behind my bed to the two-level closet.

My hand drifts along the glass display of all my recent jewelry collections as I contemplate what I might add to my outfit this evening.

For my clothing, I know exactly what I’ll wear. I reach for my signature tight red dress, which has a slit up the side high enough to give a peek at my underwear. If I wore underwear, that is. I idly stare at my jewelry cabinet as I slip on my designer heels.

“I think I’ll wear the rubies today,” I say to myself, because I’m the only one allowed in this room. My collection of pretties is for my viewing pleasure only.

When I leave my room, Clay and Vance wait outside my door, dressed in their custom black suits.

“Who am I meeting tonight?”

“His name is River Bently.” Clay reads the name from his phone as we walk through the halls, and my staff make sure to avert their gazes to the floor when I stride past.

My men guide me to the front doors, where a car awaits us. Vance holds the door open as I slide in, and they both follow, sitting on either side of me. Clay continues once the doors are closed, always cautious not to speak of business matters in front of others. You never know who might betray you.

“He’s a tycoon known around the world for running drugs and guns. He’s been mostly on the West Coast but has recently come to the East. He requested a meeting with you and your brother. You both declined said meetings until he blew up one of your shops,” Clay says and then looks up from his phone. “Then you tried to find him to kill him. He’s smart, though, and has managed to either kill or avoid anyone you sent with a message for a meetup,” he finishes.

I remember this asshole vividly. Not because I’ve met him but because he’s left an unflattering taste in my mouth.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to meet up with him,” Vance advises.

“Yeah, well, he’s threatened to fuck up some of my gun shipments, and I don’t play when it comes to business,” I tell Vance. Not that the guns were ever my forte since Alek always handled them… before he went missing.

“We know, miss, it’s just without Alek here…”

“Are you saying I can’t handle things without my brother?” I snap. “Listen closely. Neither of you are my partners. Just because I let you play with my body does not mean you have any hold over me or have any say in how I conduct business.” I glare at them through narrowed eyes. They both nod and look down.

Loyalty. That’s what these two are good for. Plus muscle. And maybe to make me come as well—that’s a bonus.

My men are silent for the rest of the drive, and I find myself unlocking my phone screen on multiple occasions in the hope Alek has called or sent a text or something.

Thinking of Alek will only be a distraction to tonight’s meeting.

“River?” I ask them, and they nod. “How many men tonight?”

“Ten so far on-site.” I nod as we pull up to a restaurant. Clay opens my door, and I get out and brush my hands down my red dress.

This man wanted my attention.

Now he has it.

But he should’ve been wiser not to flag me down in the city that I all but own.

When I step into the restaurant, the hostess recognizes me immediately and directs me to where I’m meeting the infamous River Bently. I want to roll my eyes at having to come here in the first place.

I’d contemplated walking straight in and placing a gun to his head. But that would be a lot of work to cover up, considering the number of witnesses in the restaurant. I’ll just have to decide what to do during our exchange.

The nervous hostess walks ahead of us and guides us up a few steps to the area for private groups. The second level is cordoned off and only hosts a large table with a lavish spread of dishes on it, and several men seated around it.

I spot him right away, sitting at the head of the table with a glass of amber liquor in his hand as he watches me ascend the stairs. I take in his dark sandy hair, pushed back and styled. He’s dressed much like everyone else in the room.

The hostess is gone before any of the men addresses her.

“Gentlemen, there is a lady present,” the man at the head of the table says.

Pfft. Lady.

Who the fuck does he think he is to be able to do that? My heels click with every step until I stop at the opposite end of the table. Everyone puts down their cutlery, and all their gazes fall on me.

Being looked at by men has never affected me. They either worship me or want to fuck me. Or possibly want to kill me. Whatever, I couldn’t care less. Men don’t intimidate me.

“Anya, if I may call you that, please take a seat and have some food.” He waves to the spot next to him. I pull out the empty chair before me at the opposite end of the table. Everyone exchanges uncertain glances but says nothing. I cross my arms over my chest and lean back as I size him up defiantly.

A server nervously comes over and pours me a glass of wine. I ignore it as I cross my legs and lock eyes with the devil at the end of the table.

The table is silent, and I wait.

I’ve never been great with pleasantries.

“I thought, what better way to make introductions than at my new restaurant? Please, order anything you wish,” he says.

Interesting. He’s settling into my city far too comfortably for my liking. The server stands beside me expectantly and is surprised when I wave him off. He looks at the end of the table, waiting for permission before he turns and leaves.

“To say I’m disappointed your Aleksandr isn’t with you would be an understatement.” Everyone around the table seems to shrink at his voice. “Is it true he has a fear of touching people?” I bite the inside of my cheek at his words. My brother is not his business. “Anya, come on now. We can talk.”

“Do you care to use your manners and introduce yourself?” I glare at him. He smiles and nods, as if it were some kind of signal. But to whom? My men are standing behind me; I know it’s not missed. His gaze slides from me to the man seated next to me. The one I haven’t paid a lick of attention to before I realize now how intently he’s looking at me.

“Sorry, Anya,” the man at the end of the table says as he walks past a few of the men obediently sitting quietly. It dawns on me then. This man is no one important. I realize my blunder when he stops beside the man sitting next to me.

Striking. That’s the first word that comes to mind to describe him. Cold autumn eyes stare back at me, a mixture of blue and hazel, and he has dark hair, almost black in color. He wears a button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off the tattoos skating up his arms and hands. There’s a ring glinting on his finger in the dim lighting of the room. And he sits there watching me, tapping his fingers contemplatively as he does. The man I thought was River bends to speak to him in a hushed tone before both of them look at me. The one seated next to me puts both of his elbows on the table and leans forward. I stay where I am, waiting for him to speak.

“Anya.” His voice is like silk that slips all over my body. He lifts his hand and offers it to me. “River Bently. Pleased to meet you.” I look at the man behind him, who I assumed was River, and see him slip back to where he was. Just like that, the men at the table start talking again, but it feels like we’re the only two in the room.

So this is River Bently.

I expected someone scarier.

Someone less… attractive.

He’s most likely someone who uses his looks in the same regard that I do.

Glancing down at his hand, I make no move to touch it. Does he really think I plan to shake his hand?

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I may not be like my brother and have issues with touching people, but I will not be giving this smug asshole the satisfaction of even a handshake.

No, he will not be touching me.

Ever.