Page 9 of Heartless Vows

I turn my attention to the ornate house outside my window. It gives me no clue who we’re meeting, but in mere moments, I’ll come face-to-face with the man who holds my future in his hands.

When the attendant opens my door, I accept his offered hand and step out of the vehicle but wait until my parents start up the stairs before trailing behind them.

The front door opens. Adrenaline floods my system. Apprehension adds extra weight to my feet. Dread coalesces in my chest as a vaguely familiar woman greets my parents. She ushers us into the foyer.

I meet dark chocolate eyes and freeze as mortification locks me in place. The blood drains from my face and pools in the pit of my stomach.

No. Not him. Anyone but him.

I stare into Giorgio Vivaldi’s sinfully handsome face and wonder which god I pissed off.

He was unbearably good-looking at nineteen, but now, in his mid-twenties, he exudes sensual wickedness along with masculine power. I fight the urge to turn and run.

His lips flatten in disapproval. Pain streaks through my heart. I pull my shoulders back and step forward at my father’s behest.

“Aurora, you remember Matteo and Bianca Vivaldi, right?” my mother asks. The change in her persona as she acts as the matron of the Achilles family makes me want to puke.

“Of course, Mamma. It’s wonderful to see you again,” I lie and accept Bianca Vivaldi’s welcome. She gives me a half hug and kisses me on each cheek before holding me at arm’s length.

“How long has it been since we’ve seen you? Five or six years? You’ve grown into a beauty, haven’t you, Aurora?”

I offer her my best non-wooden smile and thank her for the compliment even though the hard edge to her expression relays her dissatisfaction. My stomach churns on the protein bar I forced myself to eat as I dressed, but I mentally pat myself on the back for not arriving on an empty stomach.

When my future mother-in-law passes me to her husband, I don’t dare look over his shoulder at his son, nor do I seek help from my parents. I meet Matteo Vivaldi’s eyes and study his expression as he studies me. My skin crawls as he gives a small smile and leans down to kiss the back of my hand.

“I must say, my son is a lucky man. Don’t you think, Giorgio?”

In my attempt to avoid Giorgio Vivaldi’s eyes as long as possible, I note the veiled threat within Matteo’s tone and fight a fresh wave of nausea as his weathered face tightens in warning. He turns and offers my hand to Giorgio.

Fear and dismay turn to stone in my chest as my future husband quirks a sarcastic brow and takes my hand with exaggerated care.

“Of course.”

His inflection says he most certainly doesnotfeel lucky. I swallow the emotions clogging my throat and fight the urge to pull my hand away as he presses his lips to my knuckles.

Shock roots me to the spot as he sneaks his tongue between my fingers. The unexpectedly soft stroke steals my breath despite how fleeting and mocking it may be.

I lean on my mother’s training and smile as though my face hasn’t turned beet red.

“You’re too kind. Truly,” I say.

Despite my best efforts, my mother’s glare relays my failure to hide my displeasure.

“Ah, Narciso, it’s nice to see you. Will you be joining us for lunch?”

I stiffen at the delight in my father’s voice and follow his gaze to the man emerging from the hall. I mask my instinctual cringe and attempt to free my hand from Giorgio’s, but he tightens his fingers around mine.

“Unfortunately, no. I was just wrapping up some business withmio fratello, so I’m heading out and thought I’d introduce myself along the way.”

Ants skitter along my flesh as he approaches, and for no reason other than a gut feeling, I’m thankful for Giorgio’s grip on my hand.

“May I?” Narciso asks with a gesture toward our locked hands.

I struggle to breathe as tension fills the air. After a hair-raising moment, Giorgio responds.

“Maybe next time,mio zio. It is my first time seeing my bride-to-be in years, after all.”

The amount of disdain packed into his words raises the hairs on my nape, but to my surprise, his uncle backs down.

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