Page 59 of Twisted Vows

The question lands harder than I expect, like a stone dropped into deep water. I glance toward the window, my reflection faint in the glass. The answer sits heavy in my chest, but I can’t say it aloud—not to her. Not yet.

“Trust is earned,” I say instead, turning back to her. “And some people are overdue for an audit.”

Her brows knit together, frustration tightening her features. “If you don’t trust me enough to let me in, this alliance is doomed.”

Her words cut sharper than they should, but I push the sting aside, stepping closer. “I trust you, Ari. But if I share too much, and it falls into the wrong hands...we lose everything.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see the fire that drew me to her in the first place. She’s not backing down.

“The alliance is about trust,” she says, her voice rising, “but you’re keeping secrets. What are you so afraid of, Maxsim?”

My calm slips, just for a moment. “Afraid?” I step closer, closing the distance between us. Do you think I have the luxury of fear?” My voice is sharp, deflecting her accusation.

She crosses her arms, her defiance burning brighter. “I think you’re afraid of letting me in. Of trusting me.”

The words hit harder than I expect, and I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair.

“Ari, drop it.”

“No,” she snaps, taking a step closer. “I’m not dropping it. You don’t get to shut me out because you’re too scared to face your past.”

I turn away, gripping the edge of the desk so tightly my knuckles ache. The memory rises unbidden, a specter I can’t escape. When I finally speak, my voice is low, raw. “There was someone once…”

I turn away, my gaze falling on the window. The sunlight is too bright, too harsh, but I focus on the gardens below, on the neatly trimmed hedges and the stillness of the trees. “A woman I grew up with. She had fire, like you. Thought she could handle herself. I let myself believe it.”

I feel Ari step closer, but I don’t turn to face her. “I trusted someone I shouldn’t have,” I continue. “And it cost her everything. She died because I wasn’t careful enough. Because I let my guard down.”

The memory is a knife twisting in my chest. Her face flickers in my mind—her defiance, her laughter, the light that vanished too soon.

“I don’t take risks anymore,” I say, my voice hardening. “Not with people. Not with you.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Ari’s voice cuts through it, softer than before. “I get it,” she says. “More than you think.”

I glance at her, and there’s something raw in her expression—something unguarded.

“My mother...” She pauses, her gaze dropping to the floor. “She had this way of making you feel invisible, even when she was looking right at you. Always pointing out what I did wrong, what I could’ve done better. Nothing was ever enough.”

Her voice trembles slightly, but she steadies herself, meeting my gaze. “That’s why I lash out. Because it’s easier than waiting for someone to disappoint me.”

I don’t say anything, but I listen. For once, I just listen.

The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Slowly, I reach for her hand. She doesn’t pull away.

“I see you, Ari,” I say quietly. “Even when you’re trying to hide.”

Her lips curve into a small, hesitant smile. “How can I feel safe with someone who still doesn’t trust me?”

I pull her closer, resting my chin on top of her head. Her hair smells faintly of lavender, and for a moment, I let myself hold her without overthinking it. “All I have right now is a lot of conjecture. Pieces that don’t fit together.”

She exhales softly, her body relaxing against mine. “Let me in, Maxsim.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“All the good things are.” She hugs me tightly, and I know there is much more to gain from letting her in than shutting her out.

A risk that might actually be worth it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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