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

Why he wants me to go with him and meet with his clients is beyond me. Considering the circumstances, I really have no choice but to play by his rules until I figure out how to take control of the board. I’ll do a lot of things for money, but I’m not grateful to Alek for fucking me over on this one.

Alek is still withdrawing funds from our account, and the motherfucker is doing nothing to replenish it. Mind you, a lot of the money sitting in there is his by right.

I don’t care that he’s taking money. I just need answers. I need to understand what’s happening and why.

Even if I’m due to meet River for a business deal, I never said I was going to make it easy for him. Fortunately for him, I’m well known for my smashing personality.

Getting dressed in my tightest red dress with a slit up my leg and no bra, I apply my red lipstick and slide my hand over my hair to make sure not one hair is out of place. I consider my jewelry carefully. What do I feel like today? I reach for the black pearls.

“Are you ready, miss?” Vance asks as I slip my designer heels on.

“As ready as always for fuckery,” I say.

“Shouldn’t you eat first?” Clay suggests.

I give him a wry look. “I thought I hired you to fuck and take a bullet for me. Not to become my nanny.”

He says nothing and takes his place behind me with Vance. But now that he mentions it, I realize I can’t remember the last time I ate. Perhaps yesterday? Maybe that’s why my mood has soured immensely.

“But perhaps something small when we return won’t hurt,” I say. From the corner of my eye, I can tell he’s trying not to smirk. Idiot.

When we step out onto the patio, I feel my top lip curl up into a snarl.

“Anya.” River drawls out my name, and it’s like silk. Touching me in the softest of places, which only raises my hackles more.

My body is craving for touch. For release.

Fuckhead.

“Lake,” I purr. He opens the car door for me with an arrogant smile playing at his lips.

“Your men aren’t welcome,” he says, nodding to Vance and Clay.

“I don’t go anywhere without security,” I tell him.

“No one will harm you around me, of that I’m sure,” he says matter-of-factly. It’s not that I don’t believe him; it’s just that I don’t entirely trust him. For all I know, this could be a part of his grand scheme to overthrow me. River has balls, but I don’t know if any man is that bold. No one has yet dared try.

“Am I just supposed to take your word on that?” I scoff. “I didn’t agree to no security. I agreed to go on your jobs as some type of fucked-up payment. You understand I run my own jobs as well, right?”

He considers me as I refuse to get in his car, my arms folded over my chest.

A tic in his jaw jumps as he lets out a frustrated breath. “You can follow at a distance but always stay back. My buyers get skittish easily,” he tells them. They look at me for confirmation, and I nod.

“How does it feel?” he asks as I climb into his car, surprised that he has good taste in vehicles. This car is different from the other one I’ve seen him drive. I don’t know cars, but I know the touch and smell of luxury, especially when I’m sitting in it. He waits for me to answer him, leaning into the car.

“How does what feel?” I deadpan. I don’t have time for this fucker’s riddles.

“To have powerful men at your disposal?”

It irks me, the way he says it. Vance and Clay are powerful men, but I don’t take kindly to the tone and mockery he makes of them. Only I’m allowed to objectify them in that way.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” I throw back at him. Does he think it’s any different because I’m a woman? That he doesn’t have men beneath him who do what he says and when. Maybe he’s simply jealous because at least I fuck mine. Did fuck them. Will again. Whatever.

“Touché,” he replies as he shuts the door and walks around the car.

I roll my shoulders back, internally praying this is a quick meeting. If it’s not, I can’t guarantee what I might do on an empty stomach. And with the lack of sleep… well, some might call me a little crazy.

“I bought you something,” River says after closing the door and settling in the white leather seat beside me.

“You shouldn’t have,” I say dryly, and I mean it. I love gifts more than the next, but not from this fucker.

“Open the glove box.”

When I don’t move, he leans over and opens it for me. Inside is a red box. I know its classical branding from anywhere. Cartier. One of my many favorite jewelry designers. I don’t want presents from this man. I am, however, also a woman with little restraint when it comes to shiny things.

When I reach for it, he pulls it closer to himself, so it’s just out of my reach. “Promise me, Anya, that you’ll be good tonight. A deal is still a deal.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “You should be grateful I’m allowing you to make direct deals in my territory. It’s not me who should be on their best behavior, asshole.”

His smile kicks up at the “asshole” as he hands me the box. I snatch it from his hand, taking a second glance at his arrogant smile. The way he grips the steering wheel is too perfect. Too deadly. And I want to kill him for it.

I sigh as I pull the ribbon and reveal a stunning set of earrings and necklace. Paraiba tourmaline. I shift them from side to side, mesmerized. Fuck. I love them.

“Are they to your liking?” he asks.

I’m quick to box them up and place them in my clutch. “Aren’t we supposed to be somewhere, Lake? I want this over before nine. I need my beauty sleep and all,” I say with a sharp smile.

“Most women say thank you.”

“I’m not most women.”

“That you are not,” he says as he starts the car, and we roll down my driveway. I peer through the rearview mirror to make sure my security isn’t far behind.

I play with my black pearl ring, finding far more interest in it than any conversation River might attempt with me.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything either.

Reaching over for the touch screen, I consider in what way I might be able to torture this man.

Alek and I were raised on classical music. The one time the old bitch found me listening to pop, she snapped the record and banned me from shopping with her for a month. It was fucking torture.

Considering he’s a man in his thirties, I wonder what would be his type of living hell. I hide the devilish smile as I type in Mariah Carey “All I Want for Christmas.” I lean back and pretend to enjoy it, watching River from my peripheral.

“I’m surprised you know a Christmas song, considering it’s the season of giving. Do you even know what that means, Anya?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I shift in my seat and prop my chin on the back of my hand as I lean back. “I’m well known for my ‘giving.’ It just so happens I deal a cruel hand.”

He smirks but makes no remark about the song, which pisses me off even more. I lean back over and play the Backstreet Boys.

“Classic, really, wouldn’t you say? Which was your favorite?” he asks, deadly serious. But I know he’s fucking with me.

“I prefer men, not boys,” I chide.

What else, what else?

I switch to Britney Spears.

“I feel like you and Britney would have much in common,” he remarks.

Oh, fuck off.

I switch the music off and peer outside the window. We’re definitely not going into the city. Instead, we’re surrounded by trees and ample plots of land. It begins to rain, and I sigh at the eerie pitch-black outside.

River laughs, and it fills the car enough to put the hairs on my arms on edge. I hate how my body so easily reacts to him without my consent.

I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I have to stay in this car with him much longer.

“His name is Igor, and he flew in to see what kind of deal I can offer him,” River says, and it offers a mild type of calm to my nerves. Business I can focus on.

“Flew in from where?” I ask.

“Russia,” he says casually.

I turn to him fully now, but he pays me no attention. I still entirely believe that River is a fuckhead, but I’ve come to learn that he’s a very intentional being. I can’t help but wonder if he’s taking me to meet with a Russian client because of my own heritage.

While our birth parents are both Russian, Alek and I were born here and only lived in Russia for three years before moving back to the States. It wasn’t long after we turned four that our parents fucked off and left us behind, giving us the jolly old time of being bounced around in foster care. No matter what, it was always Alek and me against the world. Then it was just our luck that we ended up with a lady who is also Russian, which is where I think we kept our accent from. But my knowledge of the Russian language is minimal, at best, so if he’s expecting some kind of translator, then he drew the short stick.

“Have you been back to Russia since your parents brought you back?” he asks, and a cold shudder runs through me. I hate that it feels like he can read my mind. That without words, he knows where my thinking has gone without knowing a lick about me. Then again, he probably had someone rake as much information about Alek and me as possible. Flattering.

“Let me guess, you have a little file on me and think you know everything about me?” I snark.

“No, Anya, it’s called polite conversation. You are Russian, aren’t you?” he says.

I look out the window again, my nose pointed high in the air. “I don’t do chitchat.” Silence fills the air, and I find myself adding, “I am. Russian, that is true.”

I’ve always been proud of who I am, even if I had to fight to become her.

“Maybe you’ll know him,” River suggests.

“I doubt it,” I say, bored as I play with my rings. Why is this drive taking so fucking long? I check the rearview mirror, and the boys are still following.

I then twist, squeezing my tits together so he has a perfect view down my dress. I smile sweetly when his gaze flicks between me and the road.

“Anya,” he warns with a growl, and it runs shudders up my arms. A curiosity spreads through my core, and I bite my bottom lip.

“So when do you plan to fuck me?” I ask.

I just need to let this guy stick his cock in me once, right?

His gaze lands on my cleavage once again, and I notice how his grip tightens on the steering wheel. He grabs his cock to shift it uncomfortably. A womanly pride runs through me. Men are all the same, and so easy. I’m not better than a man with my sexual demands, and that’s why it always works in my favor.

“As beautiful as you are, I won’t be fucking you tonight, Red,” he says.

I huff and throw myself back against the seat.

“That big Russian man you were talking about sounds like he might be my type. What did you say his name was? Igor?”

River’s hand slides over to my leg and squeezes with a bruising grip. Any other man I would’ve slapped away, but I’m curious. Will he still be able to say no to me after touching me?

“Anyone who tries to touch you will end up in a body bag,” he growls.

“And they say romance is dead,” I coo. “I’m not wearing any panties, by the way.”

“Christ,” he breathes. “You’re never wearing panties. And you’re sadly mistaken if you think this is all it takes for me to drop to my knees for you, Anya.”

I grin. “The visual is a delightful thought, though, isn’t it?” I ask as I feather my hand over his. He catches my wandering hand and clamps it to my leg.

“You have no manners. You know that, right?”

“Manners don’t get you anywhere in life, but being ruthless does. Now remove your hand. We’re not doing this hand-holding shit.”

He flashes a wicked smile. “Do you really think you can make me listen to those god-awful songs without consequence, Red? You will sit through the torture as well.”

I try to pull away again, but the force of his hold doesn’t lessen. I huff and look out the window again. But I can see our reflection, and I notice how much bigger his hand is than mine.

I hate it.

A constant reminder of how physically bigger men are. The reminder of a time I couldn’t always defend myself. And although I don’t feel like River is a threat when I should… it reminds me of how small I am in comparison.

A woman.

With more obstacles in this world than River has ever known.

He’s just one more obstacle that I will overcome.

I can’t fucking wait.