Page 33 of Vow of Vengeance

Should I have worn a tie?

I’m overthinking. Another one of my many faults. Along with underdressing at precisely the wrong time. Neither is as bad as my most recent sin of becoming impassioned with an eighteen-year-old.

My obsession with her and her intoxicating scent is simply a hazard that has come with the engagement. A roadblock I must navigate so it doesn’t stand in the way of my success. But being with Ophelia has made all other women seem to disappear.

Trigger the hazard lights.

It feels dirty to want someone so young. Wrong to corrupt such a naive innocent. But the look in her eyes, her smell, the way she moans when I touch her…

She’s all woman.

Ophelia’s mother, Leah, was the culprit and is much closer to my age. A genuinely unholy thought tears through me: if I married Leah instead of taking Ophelia, that would make her my daughter. Instead, I drove by a girl at a trash can and became obsessed with Leah’s daughter.

At first glance.

“My head is seriously fucked.” Right when I’m walking into one of the most important meetings of my life. The wind is cold as it blows over the water. I shove my hands in my pockets. Fuck the necktie—I should have worn a coat.

I think of Ophelia in her bedroom at home when I made her get a coat last night—was that only last night? It feels like a lifetime ago. She shrugged her arms into the sleeves and, with an adorable face and a tone bordering on sassy, asked me if I was happy.

Happy.

I’ve never been happy. Someone took that away from me long ago. I need to go back to a past life and fix things which is why my freezing, rumpled ass is now walking to Liam’s house to demand a promotion.

My mind is a turnstile; I didn’t even realize I’d reached Liam’s home. I stand in front of the pristine white mansion where Liam now happily lives with his lovely wife of many years, Emilia, byhis side. And here I am, underdressed and in the middle of a serious head fuck.

I climb the white stone stairs. The camera set in the brick reads my face, and the door swings open. Emilia rushes to greet me.

Her blonde curls bounce around her face as she ushers me into the foyer. “Come in! Come in! It’s been too long since I’ve seen your handsome face, Haze.”

“Emilia.” I greet her softly with a kiss on her cheek. “You look lovely as always.”

“Stop. I’m getting old. You’re the good-looking one in this scenario. Speaking of beautiful young things… did my friend reach out to you? Sylvie?”

“Sylvie?” I ask curiously. “Remind me.”

“She has a daughter, Sophie. Sophie is beautiful, smart, and highly successful in her investment company. Married to her work.” She pats the following words on my shoulder, one at a time, a gentle touch for each syllable. “Just. Your. Type.”

My type? Is my boss’s wife attempting to play matchmaker again? Did Liam not tell Emilia about Ophelia or my plans to marry her? I stand there, unsure of how to answer.

Emilia stares up at me, her nose wrinkling. “Oh, you’re gun-shy after everything that happened with that horrible dating profile.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Please, you have to let that go. We’ll NEVER trust a computer with your future again. My friend Sylvie’s daughter Sophie would be PERFECT for your rebound.”

“Perfect. Right.” I nod. Then, I remember a voicemail I received—and ignored—sometime last week.

‘Hi, Liam, this is Sylvie Day, Emilia’s friend. Anyway (light, slightly embarrassed laughter), Emilia and I were talking about my Sophie. All work and no play and that sort of thing, you know? Emilia gave me your number, and we just thought it would be so great if we could get you kids together…’

It just got worse from there. Cringe. I clear my throat. “Sylvie, that’s right. I do remember now! Yes, I did get a voicemail from her, but—wait a moment—” I turn my head toward the arched doorway of her library, her baby, the one thing that will take her mind off my dating life. “Liam mentioned you added a record collection to your library. Can I take a look?”

“Oh, you’ve not seen the Victrola yet?” Emilia beams. “Come, come! You like jazz, don’t you? I think I remember that about you.”

I follow behind her to the library. I try to pay attention as she shows me how the Victrola works. If I were honest, I think of how I’d introduce myself to Sylvie’s daughter, Sophie. I imagine it going something like this…

Hi, Sophie. Your mom did you a disservice by giving me your number. I go by Haze, but my name is Harrison. Besides interpersonal relationships, my worst fear is the brotherhood calling me Harry. I love jazz and revenge. I have a habit of underdressing, and my timing is terrible. Oh, and my manners could use a polish.

I shake my head. I’m losing what little sanity I had.Focus, Haze.

I clear my mind, turning my life into bullet points as I sing the words along with Emilia. She’s shocked I’ve agreed and compliments my voice. It’s good enough to convince her I’m with her as I let my mind wander.

Leah humiliated me.

---