Page 33 of Vow of Silence

“He always was the loving father first and foremost,” I quip.

“Exactly. He’s being a jerk by making me help, shoving it down your throat that you’re stuck with this family forever, evenif you don’t like us.” She shrugs, hands tossed. “I don’t know what you two argued about, but I get it; I hate my parents too.”

“I don’t hate him,” I correct. “He…” I sigh, figuring she doesn’t deserve the explanation. “I want black for my dress.”

Lana’s round eyes bug out. “Pardon?”

“Black.” I wave a dismissive hand at the samples. “This whole fucking thing came about because my best friend was murdered. Why not symbolize the death of everything I hold dear? Friendship, freedom, love.”

She tilts her head to one side, lips in a flat line. “As the bride wishes. What would he-who-shan’t-be-named think?”

“He can go suck an egg if he doesn’t like it.”

“Only an egg?” She smirks.

“Fine.” I fight one of my own. “A dick. He can suck a dick.” I refuse to get along with this heathen heartbreaker.

Lana packs the fabric samples away, muttering, “I’d pay to see that hot mess.”

I watch my cousin as she opens the catalogs on the polished coffee table to the marked pages, studying her harsh features, which come together in an eclectic way to give her look a high-fashion edge. She’s an unusual beauty, not the classic soft face of storybook princesses. But she has an air of mystery that makes one curious to know if the brave face she presents to the world is all she truly is or if more hides below.

I wait until she finds the section she wants and then drop the question. “Why did you do it?”

Her manicured hand stalls on the glossy page. She takes a moment, deciding whether to dredge up old memories or let the hurt lie. “What does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” Why does anything matter in the end? “It’s just a puzzle I could never work out.” We were close as kids, like sisters.

And then she fucked the boy I loved.

Lana sighs, slumping against the back of the seat. Her gaze meets mine, devoid of any discernable emotion. “I thought you’d broken up.”

“Even if we had, that doesn’t answer why you thought it’d be a great idea to fuck him, Lana.” It had only been days since Benito had cut me loose.

Not months. Not even weeks. Days.

She shrugs. “What did you want me to do? Turn him down?”

My veins pulse with rage. “That would have been a start.”

“Hell, Stasya.” Her features scrunch. “The guy was sex on a stick at sixteen. Why the fuck couldn’t I have a piece of the pie?”

“Morals,” I holler. “YouknewI loved him.”

“Yeah.” She leans forward. “Loved. As in, didn’t anymore. I thought you’d both given up on it because of the risks involved. You said yourself that he’d been radio silent.”

“And so, you jumped in my grave.”

“Stop being so fucking dramatic.” She rolls her eyes. “It was nine years ago, Nastasya!”

“And you’ve never once apologized,” I holler, rising to my feet.

She stays silent while I pace the room, nervous energy pumping hot through my limbs.

“Maybe not.” Her words are quiet. Careful. “But don’t you think what I’ve done since then is worth so much more than an apology?”

I turn, frown deep on my brow.

“I kept the secret,” she explains with a tight shake of her head. “Uncle Arseni doesn’t know a thing about the tryst you had with Benito.” She snarls when I bristle at his name on her lips. “I said the ‘B’ word—get over it. But I could have said a whole lot more to Uncle if I’d wanted to hurt you, Stasya.” She pauses to raise her eyebrows. “A lot more.”

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