Page 12 of Veiled Vows

“I want you to understand,” I say, my voice raw. “I reacted that way because of my past—”

“Don’t,” she cuts me off, giggling and shaking her head. “Don’t tell me some sad sob story about why you broke my heart. I don’t want to hear it.”

Shame runs through me from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair, sharp and unforgiving. I was trying to open up, to tell her about my issues, my past, but she dismissed it as nothing more than a sob story. She brushed aside any vulnerability I was attempting to show her, leaving me feeling exposed.

I swallow it down. “It’s not a sob story. It’s the truth.”

“Your truth means nothing to me,” she says calmly. “You destroyed everything I thought we had. There’s no coming back from that.”

I look at her, my chest heaving. How can I make her see? How can I make her understand that despite everything, I need her, I want her?

Chapter 7

Serena

Iwrap my hair around the curling iron, getting ready for work. It's starting to go back to its natural color, no longer the shade of platinum blonde, it’s slightly darker now. It makes me feel ecstatic. I have always loved it like that more.

As I lean in closer to the mirror to apply my lipstick, a shiver runs through me. The memory of Salvatore's kiss invades my mind. I hate to admit it, but my whole body tingled when his lips crushed against mine, despite my anger.

I glance at my bare finger, contemplating for a moment. With a sigh, I slip on my wedding ring. Not because he told me to, but to avoid any drama or news about trouble in paradise. That’s what I tell myself, at least.

I had a blast at the club last night. I have never been so carefree before. I danced and laughed without stressing about what people might think about me. For the first time in forever, I didn't worry about my stomach being bloated, or my hair being a mess, or having to act a certain way. It was just me, living in the moment, surrounded by people who wanted normalcy.

As I open the door to leave, I don’t see any sign of Salvatore. He must have left earlier. Is it evil that I’m enjoying his suffering? Enjoying him tasting his own medicine? Maybe, but I can't help it.

I was always curious about his past. He never talked about his mother or even visited her grave. But it would be a cold day in hell when I would let him use it as an excuse for why he treated me the way he did. So, I chose not to hear it.

I get into my car, start it, and head to the office. The drive is quick, the morning traffic surprisingly light. When I arrive, I take off my blazer and immediately start working. There’s a stack of documents on my desk that need reviewing.

After checking over some contracts, there’s a knock at my door. “Come in,” I say, looking up from my work. Daniel walks in.

“Good morning,” he says, pushing over a chair from my office and positioning it next to me.

“Morning,” I reply, a smile tugging at my lips.

Daniel settles into the chair, placing a takeout bag on my desk. “Last night was great. We should do it again sometime.”

I nod. “Definitely, it was so fun.”

“Are you hung-over?” he asks, rubbing his temple. “My head is killing me. I almost didn’t come to work today.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Nope, I didn’t drink too much. Maybe you shouldn’t have either.”

“We only live once,” he says with a grin, pulling out a couple of sandwiches from the bag. “Want to have breakfast together?”

I think about it for a moment before agreeing, seeing no harm in it. “Sure, why not.”

I put the papers away and take a piece of the sandwich he offers me. We talk about casual stuff—movies we’ve seen, places we want to visit, funny stories from university. It's easy and light.

As Daniel and I finish our breakfast, the door swings open, and Salvatore strides in with Evelyn right behind him.

“Serena, your husband wanted to surprise you at work today,” She announces, her voice overly bright.

She flushes, seemingly swooning at the gesture before excusing herself. I’m sure that he smoothed it over with her after their first interaction; she seems smitten with him now. That bastard has charm.

Salvatore stands there, a huge bouquet of glimmering red roses in his hands, his eyes locking onto Daniel with a predatory glare. Daniel stiffens beside me, the lightness from moments ago evaporating into a charged silence.

“Good morning, Serena,” Salvatore says smoothly, but there’s a dangerous edge to his tone. “I see you’re enjoying breakfast.”

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