Unholy Vows: A Novel (Original Sins)

Unholy Vows: A Novel (Original Sins)

n this sizzling enemies-to-lovers romance, a feisty young woman unwittingly becomes entangled with the mafia—and its brooding boss who refuses to let her go. Fall in love with the first book in Mila Kane's bestselling Original Sins series for the first time in print! Forgive me father, for I’m about to sin. . . . We never should have met. She wandered like an innocent lamb into my world, and the door slammed shut behind her. Leaving her alive and free was a risk no capo would take. I’ll let her live, for a price: her freedom. She isn’t what she seems, but it’s already too late. I'm obsessed, and nothing, and no one, will keep her from me. Mila Kane's steamy Original Sin series can be read in any order: UNHOLY VOWS • BRUTAL LEGACY • SACRED RUIN Mila Kane is a previously independent bestselling author. She is obsessed with cats, coffee, and antiheroes just the right side of insane. She writes dark and dirty romance with the alpha-holes of your most filthy nightmares. She writes only SAFE stories, and no matter how dark and twisted the story might be, there will always be a happily-ever-after guarantee. She lives with her husband in Scotland. 1 Charlie When you were single, twenty-six, and living in a party town like Atlantic City, there was a buffet of options for an evening’s entertainment. You could go out on a date, eat something nice, maybe even get lucky. Or you could get lucky another way, high-rolling in one of the opulent casinos that lined the boardwalk. Maybe you’d prefer a quiet night, spending time with friends at home. There was something for everyone, and yet, I was pretty sure nobody’s idea of a good time was sneaking into a dilapidated warehouse on the Jersey Shore in the dead of night. Well, no one I knew, anyway. Yet, here I was, and embarrassingly enough, it wasn’t even the first time I’d spied on my little sister with my trusty tracker app and followed her somewhere I shouldn’t. Next time, though, I’d prefer a frat party I was too old for to a warehouse that smelled like rotten fish and old sweat. Man, this was bad. But not bad enough to turn back. My baby sister, at nineteen years old, was in this hazardous shack somewhere, and I wasn’t leaving without her, even if I had to drag her out by the ear. I ignored the gnawing worry in my gut that the trouble Lucy was getting into was only escalating. It had started with fights at school. Then there was the shoplifting. Then the underage drinking. And most recently, dating losers on a one-way ticket to nowhere. Now, I had no idea what she was getting into. She didn’t talk to me, even though we were the only family we had left. Growing up in Mercy House, a group home run by nuns, had turned me into a shame-ridden rule follower, but it’d had the opposite effect on Lucy. A firm talking-to was clearly in order. Hanging out at an abandoned property that looked like the set of a horror movie wasn’t a great idea. What was next? I shuddered to think. My sneaker pressed on a shard of broken glass and made a loud crunching sound. I froze. I was still in the large room I’d first snuck into. Old crates and other shipping equipment were stacked haphazardly along one wall, leaving plenty of shadowy nooks and crannies for eyes to watch me unseen. Broken windows lined one side of the long room, and an upper catwalk ringed the entire floor. Metal creaked, and the wind whistled through the gaping window frames. Get Lucy and get out of here, a voice inside me urged. Nothing good happens in places like this. Well, that was pretty damn obvious, but I couldn’t see a single sign of my wayward sister, despite that blinking dot on the tracker app assuring me she was here somewhere. It was tough to brush aside my highly attuned survival instincts and creep farther into the warehouse. I had spent my life trying to stay out of trouble, but growing up in Mercy House hadn’t made that easy. I was thirteen when we’d ended up there, and all the social worker said as she’d patted me on the hand was how lucky I was not to be separated from my sister. Sure, our Da had just passed, mowed down in a random drive-by shooting while waiting in line to buy takeout. Sure, we had to sleep in a dorm with ten other girls, one of whom liked to set her pillow on fire, and another who hid and tortured small animals. A dorm where the nuns grilled us about our shameful thoughts and performed random middle-of-the-night bed checks for “impurity.” Okay, Sue Granger from Social Work. We were the luckiest girls in all of New Jersey. “Lucy?” I hissed, breaking the oppressive silence in the dark room. She had to be here somewhere. I pushed on, heading toward the next room over. I had to hand it to my baby sister. If they gave awards to people with the most talent for getting themselves in a pickle, Lucy would win, hands down. Technically, she wasn’t a baby anymore. I knew that. But at nineteen, she was at that weird age where she was old enough to get