Fractured Vows

By Jade Marshall and Sofia Aves

How do you protect your loved ones when you're the one putting them in danger? Simple, you leave.

I thought when I walked away I would be able to keep everyone out of harm's way, but my plans are falling to pieces and soon enough everyone is in more danger than before. Now I have to swallow my pride and ask for help from the one person I swore I wouldn’t—my husband.

He will not let me go.
I am his obssession, his toy.
But I don’t want to play.

So much has happened, wrongs committed by both of us. Lies have been told, secrets brought to light, and irrevocable pains caused. Can we trust each other again or will this be the end of something that neither of us wanted to start with?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight
• Release date: Apr 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9780369509888

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2024 Jade Marshall and Sofia Aves

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0988-8

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Lisa Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To everyone who wanted Willow to give Rafe hell.

FRACTURED VOWS

Desecrated Love Trilogy, 2

Part of the Gallo Mafia Empire

Jade Marshall and Sofia Aves

Copyright © 2023

Content Warning

Splintered Vows may contain triggers for some. As readers, we find trigger warnings to be spoilers, but as authors, we understand that they are sometimes necessary. Although we are not going to list each one, there are many, please feel free to email either of us with your specific trigger(s), and we will let you know if that trigger is in this book.

Jade Marshall: [e-mail]

Sofia Aves: [e-mail]

For those of you who wish to go in blind, please remember that this is a work of fiction, and we DO NOT condone or wish to romanticize any of the situations or actions of the characters.

Join our dark, twisted little minds.

Jade & Sofia

Track List

Psychosocial by Slipknot

Tears don’t Fall by Bullet for my Valentine

Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Make A Memory by Bon Jovi

Monster You Made Me by Pop Evil

Place For My Head by Linkin Park

Riot by Three Days Grace

Breakstuff by Limp Bizkit

Centuries by Fall Out Boy

Far Away by Nickelback

Going Out Like That by Reba McIntire

Hail To The King by Avenged Sevenfold

Hard To Love by Lee Brice

If You Could See Me Now by The Script

Impossible by James Arthur

It’s Been A While by Staind

Jekyll And Hyde by Five Finger Death Punch

Trustfall by Pink

Save Me by Eminem ft. Jelly Roll

Iris by GooGoo Dolls

Call Me by Shinedown

Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur

The Best of You by Foo Fighters

S&M by Rihanna

I Bet My Life by Imagine Dragons

Rich by Maren Morris

Flowers by Miley Cyrus

Human by Rag’n’Bone Man

River by Eminem ft. Ed Sheeran

Waterfalls by Coldplay

I Miss You by Blink182

Gone Away by Five Finger Death Punch

Words as Weapons by Seether

I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace

All These Things I Hate by Bullet for my Valentine

Prologue

My feet touch the soil of Cyprus, the smooth soles of my leather shoes too hot and confining. The last time I walked this path, I groused about family responsibilities, about not wanting to waste more time than necessary with my father before flying home.

Now Armand Gallo is dead and I rule in my father’s wake, a responsibility I never wanted. One that doesn’t suit me, but I bear it all the same.

Now, I bury my father a second time.

I’ll sit in his chair. Talk to his capos. Pretend to enjoy sitting in a shadow grown larger than I can possibly encompass.

I am Raphel Gallo, and I am the head of the Gallo empire, one of the largest mafias in the world.

One of the most powerful men.

And I am nothing without her by my side.

Chapter One

Where Ends Meet

Rafe

Bright lights dim behind heavily tinted, bulletproof glass of the Revanzi Vengeance. Usually, I don’t require a driver, and if I do, I ask Dom. But my best friend and right-hand man sits in the leather seat at my side in the rear of the car tonight, my wife squished nicely between us.

We pull up in front of the club, a short drive across Cyprus to the particular venue that caters to my needs tonight—the place where Willow entered my life—though I doubt she knew of the club’s full facilities on her last visit.

And it’s the reason we have a driver. Because when we leave the club, none of us will be in any state to navigate let alone man a steering wheel.

Is this it? Willow curls her fingers through mine.

Black-tipped, scarlet nails dig lightly into the back of my hand, and she switches a nervous gaze between us, before dipping her head, letting her glossy black hair form a curtain between us, shielding her from a pair of intent gazes.

But not before I read the reflected desire in her jade-green eyes, or note the pale-pink fingers creep along her cheeks as blood rises in her face, heating her from the inside.

For me, blood flows south.

She’s ten years younger than my gritty twenty-eight, now head of the Gallo empire. Despite how jaded I’ve become, Willow ignites something in me I thought long lost.

I intend to ruin us all tonight, just because of a not-so-innocent fantasy my wife voiced the day we married.

Forcibly. Against both our wills.

And then I added to her pain, treating her worse.

Now, I take the weight of the trauma I caused her and wear it as a mantle to earn my way deeper into her heart, until our souls brush every time we kiss. Touch. Fuck.

We’re here. I raise our joined hands to my lips, pressing a tender kiss to her soft skin. Tell me no, and I’ll take you home, run you a bath, and spoil you stupid.

She giggles softly. You already do all that, Rafe.

And look where it got you. On her other side, Dom folds his arms, glaring at me over her silken raven-black hair.

I know tonight will break him on two levels. She isn’t the girl he wants—the one who never gives in to him, anyway—and she’s my wife. But it’s different when permissions are granted in advance. Because tomorrow I won’t be begging forgiveness of anyone.

Mr. Gallo. The chauffeur holds the rear door of the armored vehicle for us.

Since my father’s assassination, I’m far more cautious—read borderline paranoid—about our public appearances. Becoming the head of one of the largest mafias in the world at twenty-eight has that effect on a man.

Breathing in Cyprus’s salty air, I flick the button open on my jacket with my free hand, slipping from the car with grace I learned early in life to disguise any lethal intent, drawing Willow to me. I turn away before Dom alights, walking at our backs.

A few extra Mr. Gallos reach us, but I don’t acknowledge a single one, though Willow does, in her own, soft way. While my wife can snark at the best of times, her quiet demeanor to others isn’t underestimated. An old line about honey attracting minions trips across my mind. I smile at the reminder of how easily she fell into my life under duress that would have crippled another human.

But where others fall, Willow rises.

Her tenacity, her heart, and that stubborn, brave streak laced with loyalty are the reasons I will one day lay down my life for this woman. Right now I have a different plan in mind.

The maître di’ at my father’s club—my club—leads the way to the private rooms beyond the VIP area. Willow looks around nervously as I place her before me.

Walk.

I murmur just loud enough to be heard over the booming music that reverberates through my bones, along with the memory of nailing her virginal little body to the wall in my office with my cock during our last visit to Cyprus.

Rafe, shouldn’t you be— Her hair flicks around her shoulders, slithering across the strapless scarlet sheath I chose with her for this occasion.

Because the shimmering material represented the blood spilled over our union.

The hearts melded.

And because it would be all too easy to expose her stunning curves with two sets of hands.

Go. I press my hand to her lower back, walking beside but slightly behind her.

Her shoulders dip a little at the reassurance, and I take note of the way she craves knowing she’s not screwing up, knowing she’s loved.

I will give you so much of that love you’ll scream for me to back off.

Unless, of course, she’s screaming for a different reason.

We reach the room I reserved before flying out for my father’s second funeral in his home province, where the local capos assumed control in times of need. Cyprus will be a part of our regular territory tour, along with Lower Manhattan, before we return to Rhode Island.

I press slightly harder on Willow’s back when she hesitates before stepping inside the black-and-red decorated room. She capitulates, not checking with me this time, and I smile.

My little minx is determined.

Willow brought a new sense of home to my life, as well as her own colorful language.

I follow her inside, giving the man on the door permission to lock us in until I request our freedom. Paranoia, perhaps. But what better place to follow up on my father’s assassination than by taking out half his remaining bloodline in one night? I make a second note to add extra guards for my sister, then push thoughts of my family from my mind.

Tonight is about Willow. No one else.

The driver is around the back, Dom mutters in my ear. The big man twitches at my side, and shoves his hands into his pockets.

If you’re not good with this, tell me now, I warn him.

A quick glance my way and a shake of his dark head confirms what he won’t admit to either of us verbally—he wants her.

And when I shift on my heels to look back at Willow where she stands at a broad glass pane that overlooks the club and its flashing lights, I don’t blame him in the least.

She’s stunning. Curves in all the right places, strength protecting her in the rest.

Her scars, the ones that crisscross her shoulders and back, are on display and without shame. They dip well beneath the material of her dress, and I plan to lick and worship every single one of them as a measure of the pain she suffered on my behalf.

A large pasha-type lounge takes up the centerpiece of the room with no back to it, just a circular space off the floor, covered with black pillows that match the dark ceiling and black ornate wall fixtures. The red floor matches her dress, and I can’t wait to see her black hair spread across it, her scarlet lips open with soundless cries.

Come. I crook a finger in her direction, my tone brooking no room for denial.

Her feet turn in my direction before she’s thought about obeying my command, her eyes widening as she takes me in, Dom slipping his jacket off at my side. Those luminous green eyes stare up at me, a flicker of resolve covering the fear, but it’s there and I see it.

Her skin dimples, soft and pliant beneath my fingers as I cup her cheek, trailing along her throat to the heavy platinum collar I clasped around her neck the day I married her.

Hard limits. Tell me.

She swallows, and the pressure between her throat and my fingers increases, cutting off her air for a moment as I tow her forward.

Nothing, Rafe. I trust you.

Should you? She nods, but it’s not enough. I bare my teeth, aiming to scare her, show her I’m serious, but she doesn’t back down. Do you want to rephrase that? She shakes her head and I nod slowly. Rules. My hard limit. You tell me if you need to stop at any time. Do you understand me?

Yes, Rafe. She stares up at me, no defiance, no attitude or brattiness present. Just the incredible woman I get to call my wife.

All right then. One more. Tonight, use your manners. Ask nicely when you want something, and say thank you afterward. Clear?

She smiles, the tip of her tongue tracing her bottom lip, leaving a glossy sheen over her red lipstick. Thank you, Rafe.

I growl. "Don’t you sass me already, Willow. Now go and ask Dom nicely what he needs. Wait."

I pause until she turns her attention back to me, then catch her mouth, covering it with mine in a deep, slow kiss. I want her to feel that kiss, my love for her, to the edges of her sanity, to remember throughout this night.

Her tongue slides along mine in a delicate dance we know so well, teasing and giving, opening and taking. This kiss is a two-way door and by the time I draw back, cupping her chin to lose myself in her eyes once more, a moan lies heavy at the back of my throat.

Thank you, she whispers before I can say anything.

You’re welcome. I kiss her again, lightly, savoring her taste. Go to Dom, Willow. I send her to another man with her taste on my lips.

She takes the steps slowly, looking up at Dom. We’re of a height, both well over six feet, but where my muscle is lean and corded, his build is far more solid. Next to him, she looks tiny, fragile. A breath catches in my throat as she doesn’t say anything at all, walking right up to him, rising on her toes, and offering him her mouth.

Dom stares down at her for a long, frozen moment, before a groan tears from his lips and he buries his hands in her hair, bringing her mouth to his.

Where my kiss with Willow was sensuous, full of longing, theirs is a desperate clash of mouths as he devours her, fisting handfuls of raven-black locks to hold her in place. My heart thuds in my chest, a voyeur in a fantasy I created for her. The floor shifts beneath my feet and I find myself slipping my jacket from my shoulders and hanging it on a hook beside the door. Two initials are etched in the scrollwork—not scratched in, embossed: A.G. Armand Gallo. My father.

A self-depreciating snort rises from my throat as I stare at the pair of offending letters. Here I stand in a club my father built from the ground up, embedding his name into everything like a biblical heathen god. And I feel like I can compete with that? I’m kidding myself, knowing my place is back in the States, and well away from a family I barely belong to but by the auspicious accident of my birth.

Yet here I stand, about to fuck my wife with my best friend in a room where he’s had countless women himself.

A long breath leaves my chest until there’s nothing left. Hollow. That’s what I am right now. A hollow facade of a man with a heart beating in a chest that doesn’t seem to belong to me. My forehead rests on my arm where I brace it against the wall, still unbreathing.

Still.

The finest, lightest contact at my calf through my slacks brings my lungs back to life. Through the roaring in my head, the usual honorific reaches me, but not from some placating pleb, or Dom’s deeper tones. From someone much softer, all curves and heart and heat.

Sir.

I rap my knuckles on the wall, and pivot on my heel to find Willow kneeling at my feet. Her gaze narrows, picking out the tiniest shifts in my strained expression. Her slinky red dress pools around her thighs. Dom stands at her back, his eyes mirroring the concern in hers. But right now isn’t the time for a deep and meaningful conversation about a man who can’t haunt us any longer.

You shouldn’t be down there. I suck in a breath, willing my body and mind to behave for once, catching under her arms and drawing her up my body. Not until I have the chance to see you bare.

Please, she whispers, looking up at me.

Get my cock out.

I nod to Dom over her head, and his eyes hood as he