Page 35 of Deceitful Vows

I assumed Zoya would be the wildcat I’d suspected she’d be, but then I’d move on like I generally do. How was I to know one taste would never suffice? Or that it would change my plans in an instant?

I had no clue she’d place me under a spell that would fog my perception so well I thought I could end an agreement with a sternly worded email.

I requested a suspension on the paperwork that shouldn’t have been filed until Monday morning, confident it was an easy fix.

Demands work in business, so why shouldn’t they also work in my personal life?

You can save your lecture. It seems karma has come knocking to gnaw my ass.

I work my jaw from side to side before getting to work on settling my father’s skyrocketing blood pressure before he goes into cardiac arrest. “Paperwork was endorsed yesterday?—”

“After a whirlwind three-month courtship and permission from her guardian,” Mrs. Sakharoff interrupts, following the plot we devised on a whim last night.

Our union needed to look legitimate, or it would be utterly pointless, so we spent more time tying up the loose ends that would have seen it ending sooner than planned.

My family would have never believed I married a stranger during a drunk, drug-fueled bender. I’m more astute than that.

Furthermore, those types of marriages don’t last in my family.

It wouldn’t have ended with an annulment, though.

Bullets are cheaper than losing assets that took centuries to earn.

“Did you at least demand a prenup?”

I glare at my father, disapproving of his wrath but conscious he has a right to be angry.

It won’t stop me from badgering him, though.

“Do I look like a braindead idiot?”

He doesn’t hide his nod, and I can’t kill him for it.

He didn’t lie, so I have no foundation to punish him.

“The contract we endorsed stated a monetary amount for the dissolution of the marriage. Despite the shortness of our union, I will abide by that term.”

My father’s cheeks redden, loathing that I’m handing over money to which he has no claim.

I earned the millions in my bank accounts, so I can spend them however I see fit.

“And the rest? What happens with that?”

Mrs. Sakharoff’s tone better take a seat before I remind her that she isnotrunning the show around here, and neither is the woman she thrusts in front of her like I won’t kill her just as fast.

Arabella means nothing to me.

She was the commencement of answers I will devise another tactic to unearth.

It appears her mother believes differently, though.

“The consummation of your vows could have evoked an additional clause.”

“I didn’t touch her.” I sound disgusted by the idea, and Arabella doesn’t miss that. Tears dust her lower lashes as her face turns ashen. I’d hate that I’ve upset her if I actually cared. Since I don’t, I keep my tone blunt. “So any clauses you’re referencing are null and void.”

I was too generous with my assumption of Mrs. Sakharoff’s age when she screws up her face while shouting, “Your marital contract demanded haste.”

“Because I’m not getting any younger,” I fire back, needing to say something to lessen the suspicion on my father’s face. It isn’t my clock I was watching when determining the terms of our contract. It was my grandfather’s. “And neither the fuck is my grandfather.”

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