Page 13 of Corrupt Vows

One week. I only have to wait one week before she’s trapped under my thumb.

“Are we sitting here all day or…?” Natalie’s sarcastic tone stops my daydreaming.

I sigh and shift into drive before swatting her hand when she reaches for the center console.

“Ow! I’m not reaching for the radio, youcavolo. I learned that lesson a long time ago. The vents are blasting hot air at my feet. Are you trying to melt my prosthetic?”

I grip the steering wheel so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t crumple under the pressure. She rolls her eyes when I grunt in acknowledgement and let her adjust the temperature controls.

“Was Ermanno sitting here last? Does he not have any sensation left in his feet? Why in the hell did he have the heat on in the summer?”

I don’t have any answers to her questions—other than, yes, Ermanno was the last one to sit there—so I let the sound of her voice hang in the air.

She sits back and props her elbow on the armrest and looks out the window with her chin in her hand. For several minutes, we weave through the streets in silence, with only the bustle of the city sneaking in through the closed windows.

“What was mamma’s favorite color?”

Her question punches me in the gut. I turn into the doctor’s parking lot and roll around to the back of the building, using the excuse of driving to distance myself from the pain of her loss.

“Why?” I ask.

Natalie pulls her purse into her lap and rummages through the contents, but there’s no way she lost something in such a small bag, so she’s using it as an excuse to not look at me. A lump forms in my throat. She’s not hiding her face for her own comfort. She’s doing it to spare me. I cut off all emotions, pull into a parking spot, and turn off the car. I’m too much of a coward to refuse her olive branch.

“They’ll order special liners for the new prosthetic, and I can choose the colors. I want one to be for mamma,” she says, still rummaging through her tiny bag.

“Any shade of purple, but she preferred the darker ones because they were for royalty back in the day.”

She pauses before closing her purse and opening her door.

“Thanks,” she says before wriggling her way out of the car.

I rush to help her, but she gives me a warning look, so I wait until she stands and shuts her door to offer her my arm.

“You know this is ridiculous,” she says as she slips her arm into mine.

By this, she means my chivalrous act. A tatted, suited man in his late thirties escorting his fully grown sister—because our coloring, facial features, and mannerisms are too similar to label us as anything but family—must look ridiculous to the outsider’s eye, but I don’t give a fuck. I failed to protect her nineteen years ago. All the pampering in the world wouldn’t be enough to make up for my past mistakes.

I’ve given everything to ensure Natalie remains safe, yet it’s still not enough. I’ll never be able to take away her pain or make up for what she’s lost.

I won’t be enough for Serenity, either.

Beyond the battle of wills and the chemistry between us, I can’t let Serenity Vivaldi in. She’s too much of a risk. Ever since she took my sister under her wing, despite the other kids ostracizing her for only having one foot, she’s stolen a piece of my soul. Even then, I watched her from afar, knowing she had the power to shatter my defenses if I let her get too close.

Which pissed me off and turned me into an asshole whenever she came near.

I don’t regret it. I need the emotional distance between us.

Serenity must remain a business contract between my family and the Vivaldi’s. My obsession with her must end. I’ll enjoy taking her body and wrecking her for anyone else, but I can’t let her into my heart.

She’s mine, but I can’t be hers.

Chapter 5

Serenity Vivaldi

I mash the clay into a pancakewith my palm, destroying hours of meticulous molding, and huff in frustration.

One day. Only twenty-four hours before group critiques start, and I’m nowhere near ready to share my piece. No one expects our work to be gallery ready, but I’m not even halfway through constructing the base.

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