Page 70 of His Savage Vow

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She leads me out of the emergency room to where Leonard is standing near the patient drop off, still looking for Tony. We stand with him in silence until a white Mercedes-Benz pulls smoothly up to the curb and stops. I would have been nervous it was another hit if I hadn’t seen Tony’s giant head behind the steering wheel.

I’ve stayed at the Aman enough times before that when we arrive, the staff greets me by name. They barely spare a glance for Constance and my tattered outfits as they give me my room key. After instructing Tony on what I want him to bring back, he leaves to take Leonard home. Constance is quiet and subdued on the ride to the hotel, but I chalk it up to the same exhaustion dragging me down.

The suite is nice enough for sleeping. Constance leaves the bathroom door open as she begins running a hot shower. I draw my phone back out and begin making the calls to set my plan for the meet-up in motion.

Even with Leonard gone back to the estate, I’m still gutted by the old man’s grief and the loss of my strong right hand. Enzo’s absence leaves a gaping hole at my side. But more than that, it feels like a wound carved straight into the heart of the family. My jaw tightens as fury wars with grief inside me. The Volkovs will pay. For Enzo. For Constance’s father. For everything.

“Spicy,” I growl into the phone when he picks up. “I need half a dozen new black SUVs, fresh from the dealer. Get them to the body shop out in Yonkers as soon as you pick them up in the morning. Outfit them with lights and sirens, tint the windows deep, make them look like unmarked units. I want them to roll out looking like the feds themselves.”

Spicy grunts his acknowledgment. “Understood, boss. We’ll have them ready.” He pauses, then says, “Hey, Maximo…is everything okay? Things are getting rowdy. That shit with Luca and Ricky is insane. These Bratva fuckers have lost their goddamn minds.”

“They’re going to lose more than that before I’m done. One more thing, can you get half a dozen city police uniforms in the next two days?”

“Eh, that’s a bit more trouble than the trucks,” he grumbles. “I’ve got some police and FBI windbreakers we could wear, that would be pretty convincing.”

“Try to get uniforms too, if you can, even one or two would help my plan. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And Spicy, I’m not going to forget how you’ve helped me through this. Thank you.”

“I hear you, boss. You and Constance take care of each other. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I disconnect the call, then see that I have a text message from Il Diavolo Bianco.

The Volkovs want to meet to talk somewhere you’ll be comfortable, like il Buco. A nice, safe, public place.

I quickly send a reply:I’m not sitting down to break bread and make toasts with your Russian buddies. It’s late. We’ll figure out a time and place tomorrow.

Fine. Tomorrow then.Salvatore replies only a few seconds later.

I throw my phone down on the bed and go into the bathroom where Constance is still soaking in the shower. “Salvatoretexted me, trying to set up the meet with the Volkovs at il Buco.”

“I’ve always wanted to eat there,” she remarks. “What did you tell them?”

“I told them I’m not sitting down and eating with those bastards. We’ll hammer out the time and place tomorrow, after we’ve had a chance to rest and I’ve made a few more arrangements. I’ll take you there for a real date some other time, when the city is safe for us once again.”

Constance cuts the water off and steps out of the shower to grab a towel. Her expression is grim, determined. “It’s almost time, then. We’re finally going to face the Volkovs and end them.”

I feel a tightening in my chest as I stand there admiring her, then come to a decision. “You’re not going to the meeting.”

She stares at me. “What? After all this? Of course I’m going!”

“Constance,” I say firmly, crossing the two steps to where she stands, holding her towel in front of her like a shield. “I’ve let you get closer to me, to this war, than anyone else. But this? It’s too dangerous. If it goes sideways, I won’t have you caught in the crossfire again. Not after everything you’ve already been through.”

Her chin lifts, stubborn and defiant. “I have to be there, Maximo. I need to see them face justice for my father, for Enzo, for Luca, for all of it.”

“You’ll see them buried when it’s done.”

“I don’t want to dance on their graves. I want to put a bullet in them, just like I did with that bastard that was in on the raid that killed my father. I want Kirill Volkov to die by my hand, and you said you could give me that. Did you lie to me?”

Her fire matches my own and staring down at her, I can’t find the words to refuse her. Finally, begrudgingly and againstevery one of my instincts, I exhale my frustration and give her a sharp nod. “Fine. But you stay in the SUV. If bullets start flying, you get the hell out. No arguments.”

Her shoulders slump as the tension leaves her, and she breathes a sigh of relief. I can still see the determination in the set of her lips and practically see it burning in her eyes. “I’ll hang back, but if your plan works out, don’t forget that Kirill is mine.”

“I keep my promises, firefly,” I remind her gruffly as she raises the towel to her head, drying her hair. I reach past her to turn the shower back on and begin stripping off my ruined clothes. “Do you want me to have room service send something to eat up?” I ask as I step past her into the shower.

“No. I don’t want to eat this late. What I want is for you to get cleaned up and come to bed with me.”

My body responds to her words and her nudity almost instantly. I wash as quickly as I can with the wound in my leg and my bruised ribs, not to mention the stiffness in my spine from the penthouse door landing on me. My spirit is willing, but I’m not sure my flesh could meet her demands until I step out of the shower, and she’s there with a fresh towel, gently wiping me down. When she lays the towel down on the floor and crouches down in front of me, taking me in her hand then into her mouth, it’s all I can do not to come instantly. After days of smoke and blood the gentle action of making love, of any intimacy, seems almost foreign to me. It takes me a moment to relax and enjoy the pleasure Constance is offering.

When I can’t hold myself back another second, I pull her to her feet and lead her to the bed. I lay her down on her back and position my head between her legs. I want to return the favor. As my tongue works her clit, my hands find her breasts. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging meon.