Page 105 of Dangerous Devotion

My eyebrows shot up. As far as I knew, Vince’s mother had died a long time ago.

“Read it,” he said.

I pulled out the single sheet of paper and read over the delicate handwriting.

My heart ached for the mother Vince had lost, for the love she clearly had for her son, for Vince growing up without her.

When I finished, I looked up at Vince and saw the pain etched in his features.

“Vince,” I said softly, “what exactly happened to your mother?”

For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. His jaw clenched, and he turned away slightly. But then, to my surprise, he began to speak.

“My father,” Vince said, his voice low and filled with bitterness, “he treated her like shit. He constantly belittled her, cheated on her, and made her feel worthless. In the end, she couldn’t take it anymore. She…she took her own life.”

I gasped, and my hand flew to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, anger flashing in his eyes. “I’ve never forgiven him. He drove her to it, pushed her until she saw no other way out.”

Hearing this, I felt like I understood Vince a little better. The walls he’d built; the hardness he showed the world; the chilly relationship between him and his father—it all made sense now.

“I lost my mother, too,” I found myself saying. “Cancer. I was only ten.” I swallowed hard, the memories flooding back. “I could have been a donor, but my parents…they decided against it. They didn’t want to risk my health.”

Vince’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. “I’m sorry to hear that, Punk,” he murmured into my hair. “That must have been so hard for you.”

We stood there for a moment, holding each other, sharing our grief about our mutual loss.

Then, slowly, Vince tilted my chin up, his lips meeting mine in a soft kiss. It deepened quickly, our search for comfort replaced by the need for a deeper connection.

Just as things were heating up, a loud chirping sound interrupted us. Vince groaned and pulled away reluctantly.

“That’s probably Dante or Hero,” he muttered, reaching for his phone.

But it was neither. Vince narrowed his eyes as he accepted the video call from an unknown caller.

I watched in disbelief as Isa’s face filled the screen. “Hey, bro,” she said, then turned and glared at someone right next to her. “Yes, I understand perfectly, you Russian weasel; just give me a second to say hello.”

She was pulled back from the camera, and Zotov’s face appeared next to hers.

He waved, and Isa rolled her eyes.

What the hell was going on between those two? Isa mumbled something, and I watched her and Zotov engage in what could only be described as a heated bickering match.

I side-eyed Vince, who looked as dumbfounded as I did.

Finally, Isa and Zotov seemed to realize they were still on call and focused back on the camera.

“We’re just calling to tell you that Bella and I are okay,” she said, her tone exasperated but with a hint of mischief I knew all too well.

My eyes widened as I heard her words. She and Bella? Why was Isabella talking about herself in the third person?

I glanced at Vince and he at me. He looked confused, but just as our eyes met, I realized what was going on. Bella was pretending to be Mira, and Zotov had no clue. A small smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, and pride swelled in my chest at her quick thinking.

“That’s great to hear, Mira,” I said while side-eyeing Vince, who looked at me confused. I held his gaze until realization dawned on him.

I gave him a small nod, then turned my attention back to the screen and was greeted by a wide smile from Isa, which was immediately replaced when she elbowed Zotov and told him he was hogging the camera.

Zotov grabbed her chin, and his face hovered only inches before her face while he growled, “You’re the bossiest, most annoying young woman of all of them.”

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