Sinner's Vow #1

HE WOULD BURN DOWN THE CITY FOR JUST ONE KISS.

Aidan

Following the death of our father, my brothers and I find ourselves on uneven ground.
We are reduced to nothing more than puppets controlled by our uncle Frank, the new leader of the South Irish Mafia.
In order to reinstate our foothold in the Irish Mafia, I agree to an arranged marriage.
I will stop at nothing to retain the title that belongs to us.
But the moment I lay eyes on Raven Collins, I know that she is dangerous.
So dangerous that I keep my distance.
That is, until she seeks me out, demanding my attention.
The closer she gets to me, the higher the body count grows.
Until all her secrets are exposed, and I vow to protect her no matter the cost.
Even if we are left standing in the ashes of the Irish Mafia.


Raven
Six months of marriage to Aidan Murphy and then I've won my freedom.
Not just mine, but my sister's, too.
This isn't my first marriage-- the first was to the Bratva, and I barely survived.
Now, my father has handed me to the Irish Mafia.
Aidan Murphy is a lethal man, one who owns me.
And the one who will kill me once he learns why I've been sent to him.
I need to stay focused and get what I came here for.
Before Aidan discovers the truth behind my lies.
Once I do, I win our freedom.
In order to do what my father demands, I have to get close to Aidan.
But the closer I get to him, the more I realize that betraying Aidan will cost me my heart.

Freedom comes with a heavy price tag. One I'm not sure we can afford...

"Sinner's Vow" is the first book in the Murphy's Mafia Made Men Series. It is a Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance, Arranged marriage, complete with HEA and no cliffhangers.

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Dread drips down my spine in a slow trickle—my stomach clenches. On either side of me, doors line a long, daunting passage. Intentionally, I’m sure.

I’m positive my father revels in intimidating visitors as they shuffle toward his study at the back of the house, the ticking of the grandfather clock taunting them with each step.

The ticking that haunts me now.

For each hand movement accompanied by a tick, I’m another step closer to my doom. Father never calls me to his office for anything good. The last time he called on me, I ended up in the hands of the Bratva.

Raven, you can do this, I remind myself as I place one Jimmy-Choo-clad foot in front of the other.

A half-strangled laugh echoes back to me, and I press my lips together. Even as my fight-or-flight response kicks in, I keep moving forward.

Because, just like all the times before, I know I have no other choice.

You could run.

I shiver and grip the sides of my dress. The memory burns in my mind of what happened the last time I ran, not from my father but from my ex-husband.

I had run home to my father, pleading with him to save me from the beast of a man he’d given me to. It had been a risk, but I didn’t know who else to run to. He’d put me in that situation, and I knew there was no escape unless my father granted it.

That day, my father held me as I cried bitter tears on the shoulder of his navy jacket. My sobs jolted my body, and I didn’t notice him withdraw his phone, dial my husband’s number, and tell my husband to come and collect his wife.

Knock, knock, knock. I’ve reached the dark wooden door that leads into my father’s lair.

“Come in.” My father isn’t a man you ever keep waiting. My fingers sprawl across the door that I push open, and I step into his office. Olbas Oil tickles my senses. The white cloth handkerchief at my father’s elbow is where the strong smell emanates from. My earlier breakfast curdles in my gut.

Three large chandeliers cast light down on the crown of his head. He shuffles paperwork on his mahogany desk. As my gaze travels across the bookcases that soar above my father, I find my calm by looking at a paper dove that Louise had made for him years ago. I have no idea why he kept the present from Louise, but right now, it’s what I’m seeking—a moment of calm before the impending storm. I hope this time I’m strong enough to withstand the force of whatever he unleashes on me.

“Raven—”

I pull my gaze from the bookshelves and look his way. Maintaining eye contact isn’t easy. His blue eyes always appear clouded, as if there’s a madness lurking.

I keep my hands firm at my side, though I want to ball my fingers into fists so I don’t fidget.

He gestures toward the adjacent chair. I descend into the brown leather seat before folding my hands onto my lap, waiting for the blow from his words.

He doesn’t so much as blink as he leans forward and steeples his fingers on the desk. “You’ve won your freedom.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding, and without being able to stop myself, I slump into the chair. My lips drag down, and my vision wavers. It’s over.

Tears spill, and I’m smiling. I’m smiling with a fierce pain in my heart. God, the price I paid for my freedom had been branded into my flesh, literally. My ex-husband used his belt as his form of punishment.

“Thank you,” I find myself saying through quivering lips. I’m crashing from exhaustion. I’m crashing from being relieved from an overwhelming crushing feeling. I’m free.

Free.

“Once you marry Aidan Murphy, you are free to leave this home. You can start over wherever you want.”

I’m staring at the gray-peppered crown of my father’s head, my vision as clear as a cloudless hot summer’s day. His black fountain pen glides with fluid motions across a piece of paper.

“Excuse me?” My voice comes out strangled, pained, heartbroken.

Without flinching, he repeats his words as he continues to write. He pauses when I don’t respond and glances up at me. “I need you to retrieve information from Aidan Murphy. Once you do, you have won your and Louise’s freedom.”

A whimper spills from my lips. The last time I extracted information from Victor, my first husband, it almost cost me my life.

“You said the last time that if I got you the information, we would be debt free.” I’m speaking out of turn. I know I’ve crossed an invisible line even before my father looks up at me with fire in his eyes. His fist comes down with a heavy thud on the table, and I grip the arm of the chair so I don’t jump.

“It helped,” he grits out. “But it wasn’t enough. Yes, you did well. You kept a roof over Louise’s head. You say you want to give your sister a better life, but do you mean it?”

Louise. My Achilles’ heel.

The information I obtained for my father gave him millions. Where did all that money go? I want to accuse him of returning to gambling, but I also value my life.

“Once you get the information from Aidan Murphy, you can leave him. Finances will be set up for you and Louise. I’d suggest you pull yourself together. Aidan Murphy may one day rule the Irish Mafia. He won’t want a weak woman at his side.” He returns to his work, dismissing me.

I’m so beat down that I don’t at first comprehend the dismissal. When his gaze darts to mine, my brain stalls, mentally repeating his words before I rise. He has taken everything from me. I’m ready to walk away, but I can’t. Not this time. I raise my head in defiance.

“No.” My pulse builds to a tempo that’s more fitting to a dramatic ballad grand finale. The part where the heroine dies, or the moment the hero realizes he’s already lost her.

My father rises in one swift motion. He’s a large man, over six feet tall, with massive hands.

“I wasn’t asking, Raven.”

“I don’t understand.” I blink tears.

His lips curl into a snarl. “You’re a woman. You aren’t meant to understand the ways of a man. Just get the information from Aidan Murphy, and you have your freedom.” My father settles back into his chair.

“Or maybe he would prefer someone younger.” My father’s mouth curves into a smile. “Louise is very striking.”

My stomach roils. His words should terrify me; instead, they make me want to tear the world apart. “You will not go near Louise.”

My father ascends and steps around his desk with a raised hand. I fear what will come next. I’ve pushed too far, and I will pay the price.

The impact of the slap doesn’t just burn my jaw; the force sends me sprawling to the floor. The ridges of the wooden floor dig into my palms. My hip takes the brunt of my fall.

I’m staring at the dark wood, panting and shaking. I want to get up. I want to defy him. Maybe he senses the rebellious nature in me. His fingers plunge into my hair, and my scalp burns as he forces my head back.

“Apologize.”

I want to say no again, but as his gaze fills with brutality, I know this will end with me injured and still shipped away to marry a stranger. But, for one moment, it’s brief. My defiance feels so good.

“No.” My heart palpitates as I try to crawl away from my father before he can unleash his wrath upon me. The abrupt opening of his study door stops his assault.

My face continues to burn from the slap he planted on my cheek. I take in shiny black shoes before traveling my gaze up black slacks all the way to George’s green eyes. My bodyguard isn’t looking at me. A muscle tics in his square jaw.

George captures my father’s attention. “I do apologize, Mr. Collins.” He glances at his wristwatch. “I’m here to collect Miss Raven. The car is waiting.”

My lungs constrict painfully. No one walks into my father’s office unannounced, and George follows the rules. So why did he enter without knocking? Or did he knock, and I just didn’t hear the sound?

I push off the floor. My arms tremble as if I’d been lifting weights.

“Get up,” my father barks as he returns to his seat behind his desk. I hate him. I hate him so much. As I stand, my tongue flicks out, licking the blood off my lips.

When I’m upright, my father pins me with a stare. “The car can wait. Have one of the servants clean her up first,” he says to George without taking his beady eyes off me.

My heartbeat thump, thump, thumps. George said the car is waiting. Am I leaving right now?

“Miss Raven.” George’s brash words have me pivoting toward him.

“I hope you show Mr. Murphy more respect. I’m sure his hand would be far heavier than mine.”

I hunch my shoulders at my father’s words. I want to rebel. I want to tell him I hate him, but I place one foot in front of the other until I pass George. The office door closes as George falls into step behind me. We walk down the long corridor, and I wrap my arms around my waist to try to shake off the growing fear.

“You shouldn’t antagonize him,” George whispers.

I take a peek at the forty-year-old man who has never spoken to me. I wonder how long he had been standing outside my father’s office door. Responding would be pointless. George steps in front of me as we enter the ornate foyer of the house. We walk past the enormous staircase to the first floor, where I sleep. I’m looking around for my sister. I want to check on her, but no one is in sight to even ask about her.

When we reach my bedroom, George opens the door but doesn’t enter. No one is permitted into our sleeping quarters. I had a hand in designing my room. The gold leaf that adorns all the matching white French furniture pulls the room together. It’s a mix of contemporary and old world. The large black chandelier over my bed sends light dancing across the gray silk duvet. I find my gaze ping-ponging around the luxurious space. It’s my haven, where I seek solitude on the hard days. I often thrash out my pain in my quarters and try to heal myself by decorating the space. I won’t return here. I shake off the sense of loss and walk to my open closet.

I need to pack. My stomach squirms in pain, and I scramble for my calm, which in this moment, I can’t find. I’m leaving again to marry yet another man. Will he hurt me as Victor had? A part of me wants to curl up and find a corner to hide in. I want to bury my head and let the time pass.

But gathering some possessions and saying goodbye to Louise spurs me to my walk-in wardrobe. I freeze as George greets my father on the landing. My dread grows as I spin around, fearing he’s come to finish what he started in his office.

My father barges into my room and slams my bedroom door behind him. When he spins the lock, I know it’s to keep George from interfering with whatever is about to come next.

I won’t have anyone to save me this time.