Page 38 of Vow of Silence

“I’ll let Vinny know the stall is occupied.” Dion gives me a raised hand in a wave as he heads in the opposite direction toward where Papa’s security is housed onsite.

The aroma of fresh apple shortcake and muffins has my stomach growling in appreciation as I push the door open to the sizeable commercial-style kitchen. The chef isn’t always in; Mama has him take two days off mid-week, insisting he’s around for the more common time to entertain—the weekend. But when the guy is here, he’s sure spoiled for state-of-the-art equipment.

My mother loves her fine dining. My father loves to keep my mother happy.

“I saved you some,” Klaus says in his thick European accent. “I saw the car out front and figured you were around.” He slides a pre-packed container toward me.

I give him a nod and then lift the corner to release the warm aroma.Perfection.

“Will you continue to be onsite more regularly?” The septuagenarian asks. “I’ll order extra for you this week if you are.”

I stare at the pristine stainless counter he wipes anyway and shake my head. As long as my uncle makes these halls his daily haunt, I won’t be here. There’s only so many times I can be in the vicinity of the asshole within a month before I start to plot murder.

“Well, if you ever want more, you let me know. I’m happy to make some special.” The man gives me a wink, friendly like a grandfather would.

I return the gesture with a tight nod and leave the room before my lack of words makes the situation any more complicated than it needs to be. I don’t necessarily miss conversation; I realized how pointless it was when people failed to put in the extra effort to find another way to initiate an exchange. But I miss the intellect of it. How sparring viewpoints with another person can unlock new thoughts within my mind. My thoughts are insipidly linear now that nobody can nudge the process in a new direction.

I could have learned sign language, but that felt too much like admitting defeat. My inability to talk doesn’t make me less, and it’s best our foes don’t see my handicap that way. By learning a widely recognized form of communication, I would have given our adversaries an unfair advantage over me. My gestures may not be conventional, but at least they’re mine.

Private.

For only those I care enough about to know.

I set the fresh baking on the passenger seat and start the Land Rover. Placing my phone in the cradle, I tap through to Messenger and stare at the call history. Do I need to informher that I’m ready to call again? Give her time to prepare.Prepare for what, fuckhead?I’m slated to marry the girl; if she can’t stomach the thought of me seeing her when she isn’t put together and at her best then we have serious issues.

I hit the video camera icon and then pull out of my father’s driveway. I didn’t bother to see him or Mama before I left. When I can’t physically voice my farewell, it seems redundant. They know I was here, and they know I left. They know I plan to come back… eventually.

“Hey.”

I gaze at the phone as I reach the road and shift my foot to the brake. She’s fucking breathtaking—unkempt and ready for bed. Blonde waves cascade around her face and shoulders, a satiny gown draped over milky skin. I marvel at how much softer her eyes are when she doesn’t line them in harsh blacks and grays.

“Was he the guy?” Nastasya rests her head on one hand, seemingly curled in an ornate armchair.

I shake my head and then ease my foot off the brake.

“Damn.” She sighs.

Her gaze bores into me despite my eyes staying fixed on the darkened road.

“I’m going to be upfront here, Benito.” She smiles softly. “I don’t know how to do this, to have a one-sided conversation.”

I flick my gaze to the phone. Her chest rises and falls with a lengthy breath.

“Should I tell you what I’ve been doing since we last talked properly?” She frowns at her choice of words. “Sorry.”

I shake my head.It doesn’t matter.I don’t want her to feel like she must censor herself around me. This is my cross to bear, not hers.

“Do you even care what happened after we broke things off?”

I meet her pained stare, careless, while the Rover continues to rocket down the unlit semi-rural street.Yes.I nod slowly.

“I finished my studies,” she says clinically, as though reciting anecdotes to an acquaintance. “Buried myself in far too much schoolwork, so I didn’t have space to think about anything else.” She pauses long enough to have me glance her way. “Or anyone.”

I can relate.

“Papa restricted my movements after he discovered I’d snuck around without a protection detail. He never knew I was with you,” she reassures me. “He thought I was with Lana.” Her head drops in my periphery. “And then Mama passed.”

I lift my right hand and touch my chest briefly before I hover my fingertips in front of the camera as though to reach out for her.I’m sorry.I should have been there for her when she went through that pain, but maintaining our distance was the only way I knew how to keep her safe.

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