The Vow (House of Sin Book 4) Read online

  The Vow

  House of Sin - Book Four

  Elisabeth Naughton

  Copyright © 2020 by Elisabeth Naughton

  All rights reserved.

  Editing by Linda Ingmanson

  **Note: This book was previously published as part of DECEIVED by Elisabeth Naughton**

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The House of Sin

  The Vow - Book Four

  Sometimes a lie is safer than the truth…

  My heart and head are engaged in a bitter war.

  Every moment with Luc tests my resolve. I know I’m safer without him, but I still crave his commanding touch. I still ache for the brush of his wicked lips. There are forces that see me as a threat, men who want me out of his life, but my heart won’t let me leave. I need Luc. I want him. I will always want him, even if that wanting puts me in danger.

  But there’s still so much he’s keeping from me. So many secrets lingering in the silence. If he can’t let me in, if he can’t trust me the way I need, then there’s no way we can make it.

  I won’t live my life in the dark. Not even for the man I love. If he wants me, if he loves me, then I have to know what still torments him behind the doors of the House of Sin…

  Books in the complete House of Sin Series:

  THE SECRET - Book One

  THE FALL - Book Two

  THE BETRAYAL - Book Three

  THE VOW - Book Four

  THE PRICE - Book Five

  THE CHOICE - Book Six

  Contents

  1. Luc

  2. Natalie

  3. Luc

  4. Natalie

  5. Luc

  6. Natalie

  7. Luc

  8. Natalie

  9. Luc

  10. Natalie

  11. Natalie

  Don’t miss the next exciting story in the House of Sin Series

  Thank You!

  Also by Elisabeth Naughton

  About the Author

  “Your worst battle is between what you know and what you feel.”

  ―Alex Haditaghi

  1

  Luc

  I felt like shit. No, worse than shit. I felt like dry, stale, week-old horse shit.

  Unable to lie still any longer, I shoved the throw from my legs and pushed off the couch where I’d crashed sometime around four a.m. I’d dozed maybe an hour, but I hadn’t been able to fall asleep thanks to the stress churning inside me over the day that lay ahead.

  Growing grouchier by the second, I shuffled into the kitchen in my wrinkled clothes and filled the coffee pot with fresh water. I wasn’t going to be able to relax until Natalie was out of this damn country. Yeah, I was confident she was safe here on Marco’s property, but I wasn’t at all confident she’d stay put behind the estate’s walls.

  Natalie James—correction, Natalie Salvatici—had an unpredictable independent streak that made me crazy, and just contemplating all the wild ways she might defy me while we were here...

  I flipped the water off and drew a deep breath as I stood over the sink, fighting back an insatiable arousal I had no right to feel and a blistering heat that crossed the fucking wires in my brain.

  Last night, it had taken every ounce of willpower I possessed not to toss her on that king-sized bed and ravish her. If she’d made any snarky comment when I’d left the room, I’m not sure I’d have been able to resist the urge. But she’d kept her tempting mouth closed. And she hadn’t come looking for me when I didn’t later join her in the one bedroom in this damn tiny cottage. As far as I knew, she didn’t even wonder where I’d gone.

  I told myself not to be disappointed by that fact as I shifted my bare feet against the cold tile floor and moved to the coffeemaker. It was better for both of us if we didn’t get distracted by anything emotional or sexual the next few days. Safer too. The last time I’d let myself be distracted by her...

  My throat closed as I snapped the lid shut on the coffee machine and hit the start button. Yeah, the last time I’d been distracted by that kind of shit, I’d nearly gotten Natalie killed.

  For the next twenty minutes, I focused on making breakfast, a mundane task that took my mind off Natalie and my miserable family. Marco and Fee had stocked the kitchen with everything we’d need for a month—fresh meats from the local butcher, vegetables, and fruits I was sure they’d grown on the property, and pastries and breads I knew their family cook Lucilla had prepared.

  Shuffling sounded at my back just as I was finishing the first omelet, followed by a gasp and muttered, “Wow.”

  My blood ran hot at the sound of Natalie’s soft voice, but I willed myself to stay in control. As I should have stayed in control from the first moment I’d met her.

  “Pretty sure that wow is for the view and not my cooking. Sit down. Breakfast is ready.”

  She pulled out the chair with a squeak of the legs against the slate floor. As I shifted the omelet to her plate and added some of the breakfast potatoes I’d made earlier, I caught her wide-eyed stare from the corner of my vision as she looked out at the crystal blue lake framed by towering trees and rolling green hills.

  “I thought I saw water last night,” she said, “but I had no idea. It’s gorgeous. Where are we again? This doesn’t look like the mountainous region where your parents live.”

  “It’s not.” I set the plate and utensils in front of her. “We’re about forty-five minutes south of them, outside Siena.”

  “Oh.”

  I couldn’t quite tell if that “oh” was “oh good,” or “oh bad,” and I didn’t feel like asking. Moving to the counter, I poured a fresh cup of coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, and brought it to the table for her.

  She glanced from the steaming cup up to my face and said, “Thanks.” And for a split second, I saw what I’d missed earlier because I hadn’t been able to look fully at her.

  Her eyes were bloodshot and slightly puffy around the outer edges. And dark crescents marred the soft skin beneath her lower lashes, telling me she hadn’t gotten much more sleep than me.

  Guilt stabbed right through the center of my chest. Guilt not just for bringing her here, but because I was the reason for her lack of sleep and red-rimmed eyes.

  I averted my gaze and quickly moved back to the stove, focusing on making another omelet so I wouldn’t do or say anything to make the situation worse. With a sigh, she picked up her fork and began eating.

  Silence filled the kitchen, punctuated only by the sound of the frying pan moving against the stovetop or her utensil scraping her plate.

  Tension crackled between us as I flipped off the stove, slid my food to a second plate, and took it and my nearly cold coffee to the other side of the table. A tension I knew she felt too by the way she stiffened and watched me with wary eyes.

  I focused on eating, hoping the food would help ease the knot of stress in my gut. By the time I finished, that knot wasn’t any better, especially when I noticed Natalie had barely touched her food.

  Shit. I needed more caffeine for this.

  Pushing up from the table, I glanced at her cup. “You want more coffee?”

  She looked down at the half-empty mug and shrugged. “I gue
ss.”

  I guess. Man, we were well on our way to convincing everyone we were madly in love.

  I took both mugs to the counter and refilled them, the whole time pondering what the hell I could say to break the tension. Everything churning in my head sounded stupid as fuck. Moving back to the table, I set her mug in front of her, sat back in my chair, and wrapped both hands around my cup, deciding enough was enough.

  “I know last night Marco told you that you could go anywhere on the property. You can, but it’s important that you don’t leave the estate for any rea—”

  “I know. Sela explained it to me. I’m safe behind the walls. Once I leave, I’m fair game.”

  My stomach twisted as I glanced at her, staring down at her plate with what I could only describe as a miserable expression.

  I fucking hated this. “I’m going to make it right with my father and my House. You won’t be stuck here for long. Once they recognize our marriage, they’ll leave you alone.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  I wasn’t even going to consider that as a possibility. I lifted the steaming mug to my lips, desperate for the hot brew to incinerate my sudden fear. “They will.”

  Her gaze lifted from her coffee to me, and even though I wasn’t looking full at her, I didn’t miss the doubt in her eyes. “And then what? What happens after you convince them we’re married?”

  Steps. I could get through this whole shitfest if I focused on the steps that would get us to safety.

  “Then,” I said, lowering my coffee once more, “I try to help Dante.”

  She didn’t respond, just narrowed her eyes on me in an unreadable way, but I knew the questions were coming. I also knew I’d answer every single one if it would keep her safe.

  She eased back in her chair and toyed with the handle of her mug. “So who is Marco to your family?”

  “A distant relative.”

  “How distant?”

  “Several marriages long removed. His family is loyal to our House.”

  “You obviously trust him.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why couldn’t he help Dante?”

  “Because he’s not a Knight.” When she only stared at me, I sighed and tried to explain. “Marco and I grew up together. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was a kid. He was raised by his uncle, who is a Knight in the Salvatici House. The Knights are like...”

  I tried to think of something she would understand. This would be a hell of a lot easier if they had royalty in the US. “They’re like advisers. There are thirteen. All are appointed to the Council of Thirteen by the head of the House—the Granducato di Toscana, or in English, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, who happens to be my father. Marco’s not a Knight, so he has no ruling privileges when it comes to how members, especially Salvatici family members, are disciplined.”

  “But his uncle does?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask him to help Dante?”

  I lifted my cup to my lips again. “Because Marco’s uncle is as depraved as my brother Giovanni. I don’t trust him any more than I trust the Grande Cavaliere.”

  “Sela mentioned this Grande-whatever. He’s some kind of priest?”

  I huffed. “No. He’s not religious at all.” He was evil. And I didn’t want Natalie anywhere near him. “The current Grande Cavaliere isn’t someone you ever want to meet face to face. You saw him once before. In that ritual in the woods. He was the one in red.”

  Her entire body stiffened in her chair, and without even asking, I knew what she was remembering. The way the Grande Cavaliere had bent that naked beta kitten over the stone altar and fucked her right there in front of everyone.

  I looked down at my coffee, my stomach twisting at just the reminder she’d seen that depraved ritual. But I didn’t want to scare her, so I gentled my voice when I said, “There’s no reason you’ll have to meet him personally. Marco would never invite him on the property, not because of you, but because of Fee. Legally, he can’t enter without that invitation.”

  She nodded and looked down at her coffee. Unable to stand the silence, I dropped my hand and looked at her. She was studying her cup as if it held the secrets to the universe, but I could tell she had more questions.

  Scrubbing a hand over the three days of stubble on my chin, I said, “Just ask whatever you want to ask, Natalie.”

  She wrapped her hand around her mug, pulling it closer, and as she did, I spotted the slave tattoo on her finger, visible because she wasn’t wearing her wedding band.

  “I’m trying to figure this all out. You said Marco wouldn’t invite the Grande Cavalier here because of Felicity. What’s their story? Are they married? Because I didn’t see any rings. But she doesn’t act like a kitten.”

  “She’s not a kitten.”

  I told myself not to be disappointed she’d taken off her ring. She clearly didn’t want to be married to me. It made sense she’d remove the ring in private.

  But I hated the sight of that word. Wished like hell I’d picked something less vile. And I was scared to death she’d forget to put the ring back on before she left this villa and someone else saw the marking. Not because it would make me look like an ass—I didn’t give a shit about that. But because I was terrified of that word on her skin being reported back to the Thirteen and my father.

  “And they’re not married,” I forced myself to say instead of ordering her to put the damn ring back on as I wanted, “because Felicity’s father is the head of House Merrick in England, and—”

  “Wait. Felicity’s the one you told me about? The woman in England who educated you about your House and what they were really up to?”

  I nodded. “She’s also the one my father tried to set me up with. Neither of us was interested. Marco’s way more her type than me. And she and Marco are not married because her father won’t sanction their marriage while my father and the Grande Cavaliere are in control of House Salvatici.”

  Her gaze narrowed again. “I don’t understand.”

  I knew she didn’t. I also knew she’d never truly understand because I wasn’t about to tell her what the Grande Cavaliere was capable of.

  “Her father doesn’t want her under our House’s rule,” I said, trying to keep it simple. “All five Houses are still very patriarchal. As soon as she marries into House Salvatici, she’s bound to follow our rules. Her father won’t allow that to happen while my father is in command.”

  She considered that for a moment. “You said Dante went after your father because Maricella is missing. Why would he blame your father for that?”

  Thankful we were off the topic of the Grande Cavaliere, I sighed. “Because my father probably is responsible.” I drained the rest of my cold coffee. “After you and I left Tuscany, Dante moved to Rome with Maricella without my father’s approval. That’s a big-time no-no.”

  “So your father did something to Maricella? I don’t get it. Why?”

  Of course she didn’t get it. She could never understand the twisted way my House worked. Most of the time, I didn’t understand it, but I’d learned long ago not to question the rules. That’s how people died. “If he did, it was to punish Dante.”

  “Do you think he did?”

  I eased back in my chair and stared at my empty cup on the scarred wooden table. “I don’t know. It’s possible. My father is all about preserving the old rules.”

  I lifted my gaze to hers, knowing I wouldn’t hide this truth from her. “He went after you when you fled the villa. I know the things he’s capable of, and, technically, like it or not, Maricella is a kitten. To my father and the other Knights, that means she’s subhuman.”

  A sick look passed over Natalie’s face, but she didn’t break eye contact with me. “Dante doesn’t think so.”

  “No.” Once again, I was amazed at this woman’s ability to read people. She’d spent only one dinner and one long afternoon with my brother and his kitten, and she’d easily seen a truth it had t
aken me and my House much longer to see. “I’ll know more once I talk to him. Hopefully then, I’ll have a better idea how I can help him.”

  “The only way you’re going to help him is to find her.”

  I had a sinking feeling she was right. I looked down at my hand on the table. “I’ll talk to Marco about that on our way to see my father.”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “When will you go?”

  I sighed and glanced toward the clock above the stove. “As soon as I shower and change. I told Marco I’d be up to the villa after we had breakfast.”

  She nodded and looked down at my coffee mug. “And you think you can talk your father into letting Dante go?”

  I pushed to my feet and took my empty mug into the kitchen, my brain already skipping ahead to how the hell I was going to do exactly that. “I have to try. Regardless of his faults, he’s my brother. And unlike Giovanni, he’s not a lost cause. He’s still got a heart buried somewhere inside him. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t give a shit what happened to Maricella.”

  “And then what?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, setting my cup in the dishwasher.

  “After you convince your father to release Dante, then what happens?”

  It was the one question I hadn’t anticipated, and it rattled me. More than I liked.

  I turned toward her and leaned back against the sink, feeling helpless in a way that crippled me. “I don’t know.”