Page 22 of Promised Vows

I'd always prided myself on being perceptive, on understanding the world around me. But now, as I stared at my father, his familiar face suddenly seemed like that of a stranger. Every assumption I'd ever made about my life, my family, and my place in the world came crashing down around me.

The weight of this new reality settled over me, heavy and suffocating. It was as if every doubt, every fleeting moment of uncertainty I'd ever experienced had coalesced into a tangible force, pressing down on me. My confidence crumbled, replaced by a paralyzing sense of vulnerability and confusion.

In that moment, staring at the man I thought I knew, I felt more lost and alone than I ever had before. The solid ground I thought I stood on had turned to quicksand, and I was sinking fast, with no idea how to save myself.

He crossed the room, stopping right outside the door. “Will you at least take my number so that you can contact me if you wish?”

A debate waged. My heart was hurting so badly. I didn’t want to give him an inch, but he was my papa. I’d missed him so much. Nodding, I left him, went to my room, and grabbed my phone. When I returned, I handed it to him. He typed his number and handed it back.

“Call or text anytime. I look forward to hearing from you. We have so much to catch up on.”

“Bye, Papa.” I shut the door as he stood there looking at me. Sad eyes, downturned mouth. Misery pouring off him.

I burst into tears as I raced to my bed, diving onto it and pulling the covers over my head. My world was crumbling around my feet. I wanted to curl into a ball, cry my eyes out, and… I didn’t know what. I knew that whatever plans I had for that day were canceled.

My phone chiming dragged me from sleep. I’d cried, cried some more, and then cried even more. Then I’d ordered a half dozen donuts from a new twenty-four-hour place that delivered and chowed down. Well, four of them. I hadn’t eaten all day. I wanted to eat my feelings via something sweet, sticky, and tasty.

Searching through the sheets on the bed, I located my phone and checked the screen. Two missed calls and a dozen missed texts. The calls were from telemarketers, two of the texts were from a designer wanting to see if I was available to model for him, and the rest were from Ari.

Before I could finish typing out a message, a knock came from my door. To say I was leery after the last visiting guest was an understatement. What were the chances it was Jason? Here to try to sway me to his side? My heart wasn’t ready for a talk with him.

“Anna.” Another two knocks. “Anna, it’s Ari.”

Ari? I stumbled out of bed and walked to the door, opening it a fraction. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay. After yesterday at the wedding…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I was worried.”

“Worried?”

He lifted his head and his eyes caught mine. “That man was Marco Moretti. He’s about as honorable as Lorenzo. With him having… I wanted to make sure you were safe.” His eyebrows knitted together. “Have you been crying?”

I tore my gaze away and looked down. “It’s girl stuff.” I didn’t want to tell him about Papa. What if he was telling the truth about Jason? If so, was Ari involved too? Maybe that’s why Jason wanted this union. To fight my father and plunge the family into darkness.

“Girl stuff, huh? I do have a sister, ya know.” There was humor in his voice. “May I come in?”

“I feel like a cow. My legs aren’t shaved, my breath stinks, and I’m a hot mess. You don’t want to see me like this.”

The throaty moan caught my attention and I looked at him. Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “May I please come in and hold you?”

What was it with him and his pleases? It was like my ability to say no was gone when he did that. No one else could do that to me. “Fine.” I opened the door wide enough for him to enter. “I’m warning you though. I’ve got donut breath and the ability to slice you with my freshly grown leg hairs.”

Without a word, he slipped off his coat, revealing a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. On his feet were a pair of sneakers that, surprisingly, weren’t designer. He was the most dressed down I’d seen.

Seeing his bare arms for the first time set off butterflies. They were cannons, and both had tattoos covering them from the shoulder to the bend in his elbow. I held in a sigh, but it was hard not to stare at the muscled perfection standing before me. I found my tongue and managed to wrangle the alphabet. “I was beginning to think all you owned were designer suits and expensive shoes.”

“On Sundays, I work out. I showered at the gym, and as I was driving home, I had a sudden and uncontrollable desire for a hot mess.”

That sugar-laced tongue of his even had my ovaries swooning. “I swear, you keep saying things like that and I’m going to start calling you Romeo for real.”

“Ari,” he said in a husky whisper. “Please.”

Ari. A whispered my hung itself in front of his name. I quickly shut that thought down. Not mine. Yet. I would have whiplash by the time he left.

He turned around, looking over my apartment. “You’ve got good taste.” Tipping his head toward my couch, he asked, “Mind if I sit?”

“No, go ahead. Do you want something to drink? I’ve got water and milk.” I chuckled. “I know the selection is overwhelming.”

“For right now, I only want you.” He walked to the couch and sat. “Would you please come sit with me?”

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