Page 16 of Vow of Silence

“You cannot head the organization, Nastasya,” he says sweetly, the condescension undeniable. “Nobody would take your role seriously, and you’d forever fight against who you are.”

“A woman.” I scowl at him. “You can say it, you know.”

“It’s how it is.” He shrugs, dropping his leg to face the door again.

“Whowilltake over from you?” If not me, then surely, he won’t allow the son of an enemy to have the position.

“That’s for me to worry about.” Papa pats my leg and then stands. “Rest. We’ll have Ian come look at you this afternoon.”

The family doctor.If he treats me off the radar, then that almost definitely confirms the worst. My best friend lies on a cool table, alone, awaiting a private burial.

I clamp my lips tight, hands to my stomach, while Papa leaves my room, gently clicking the door shut behind him. Hisfootsteps barely recede out of earshot before I’m off the bed and running for the bathroom.

The digested remnants of dinner erupt from my throat—a last meal, unbeknown to me and my best friend.

The thought makes me vomit again.

My father forcing me to marry the boy who broke my heart the least of my worries.

EIGHT

Benito

“You didn’t come to see me last night,” Mama laments from her spot, eating brunch in the sun.

I huff and tap my watch.

“Psh.” She waves a hand through the air. “You know I don’t mind if the hour is late.” She gestures for me to take a seat opposite her on the patio. “I’m glad you stayed, though. It means I get to see my boy in the daylight.” Her gaze softens as I lower myself onto the metal chair. “You grow more handsome by the day.”

I roll my eyes.

“Don’t give me that nonsense about a mother’s rose-tinted glasses,” she scolds. “You’ve already broken plenty of hearts.”

Only one that I’ve cared about. I sigh and lace my hands over my stomach, staring at Mama’s perfectly kept gardens. The lawn extends the length of a football pitch, either side lined with a flawlessly trimmed box hedge. Roses peek over the top in varying shades of pink and red, the odd white thrown in for variation. The centerpiece is the long pergola that runs the final twenty feet down to where the lawn drops away on slate steps to the lake beyond. As a child, I often bruised myself by climbing the sturdy timber frame before Mama’s roses took over.

“Your father told me about the deal with Arseni.” She takes a delicate bite of her grapefruit, chewing and swallowing before she continues. “Nastasya is a good match for you.”

I flatten my lips.

“Even if you two shared no history, I’d pick her,” she whispers, leaning forward conspiratorially. “The girl is strong.” Mama has another bite of the fruit. “She knows our world, unlike half the waifs you’ve brought home from the nightlife.”

I snort, a chuckle rumbling in my chest.

“Yes, indeed.” She smiles, fixing her satin housecoat. “Vincent keeps me well informed of your antics.”

I may have left the family home, but I knew I’d never leave my parents’ watchful eye. I don’t often spot the familiar faces among the crowd, but I know my father’s men are there, watching.

Reporting.

“You and I know none of those girls were marriage material.” Mama lifts an eyebrow. “You need a woman of your caliber.”

Nope—the women weren’t wife material. But they sure were fun. My shoulders rise with the deep breath I draw. One-night stands are easy to manipulate; take what you want and kick them out. A relationship with Nastasya brings complications. Ones I hadn’t considered before now—I’m unprepared, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.

Mama sighs, noting my furrowed brow. “She won’t care, you know?”

I shrug. That’s yet to be proven.

“The only way to find out is to spend time with her.” Mama tidies her empty grapefruit skins into an orderly pile on the delicate China plate. “I’ll arrange dinner for the families. You two can then step away and converse.”

---