Vows of the Mafia King
ision she had no choice but to make. Isabella Frost kept her chin high, her icy-blue eyes betraying no emotion as she approache
la. You're the o
rificial lamb to a man who thrived on fear and bloodshed. But instead, she had nodded, swallowin
er name. Her presence was expected. One of them opened the d
fractured light over the polished wood floors and antique furnitu
here
ntimidating as the rumors claimed-tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a tailored black suit that hinted at power and ruthlessness. His jet-black
k in his chair, his gaze roaming over her with a sl
but laced with something dangerous, "this
d the room with measured grace and stopped a few feet from the
tion," she said eve
smile. "Is that what you tel
as if testing her resolve. She forced herself to stand
ed it," she said. "Let's not
shiver down her spine. He set his glass down and
r world, Miss Frost. Surely
ion in the room was palpable, a silent
red to the chair ac
y of her father's pale, desperate face was a sobering reminder of what was at stake. She low
d, his tone conversational, as if they were discussing business over co
" she sa
you a
ave much of
ith amusement. "I like you
you," she snapped befor
there was no warmth in
with implication. Isabella clenched her fist
?" she demanded, her voic
is gaze boring into hers. "
efused to let him see her fear
s patience. "Your family's debts will disappear. Your fath
tion fr
ap," he said casually, as if discussing the weather. "You've made ene
e asked, though she a
aced by a look that sent a chi
ls were closing in on her, the weight of her decision suffocating. But s
her voice trembling despite her best efforts, "but d
she saw a flicker of something-respect, perhaps?-in
said softly, his tone bot
an in a gray suit stepped inside. He was tall and
eady, Mr. Bennet
e extended a hand to Isabella, his
retched hand. She wanted to run, to scream,
the contact sending a jolt through her. Hi
she felt as though she were w
might have been forced into this marriage,