Page 47 of Heartless Vows

Oh. My. God.

The nerve of this man.

“Of course! You’re always welcome to visit. Horatio is currently in a meeting, but he should be out soon,” my mother says.

She gestures for us to follow her into the house. Giorgio pulls me along beside him, giving me no option to balk.

I wouldn’t dare, anyway. He stole the strength from my legs when he wrenched that orgasm from my body.

My mother leads us into the sitting room and requests some coffee and snacks from the nearest staff. He rushes to comply.

Before Giorgio can pull me down onto the loveseat beside him, my father’s voice echoes down the hall. A group of six or seven men walk past the doorway as he ushers them to the foyer.

Ice slides down my spine as I recognize my father’s consigliere’s voice. It’s cowardly, but I lean into my future husband and grab the back of his shirt. He flicks unreadable dark brown eyes down at me, but returns his attention to my mother, maintaining his show for my sake.

We remain standing until my father steps into the room.

“Giorgio! What a pleasant surprise,” he says.

Otello Tempe, my father’s right-hand man and closest confidant, saunters in with the smooth walk of a man who believes he can do no wrong. My skin crawls. The air turns frigid as hatred and lies fill the room.

I twist my fingers in Giorgio’s shirt before I regain control of myself and force myself to relax.

My mother ensures I don’t see Otello very often, so even though he lives on the third floor, we rarely see each other face-to-face.

It’s been at least six months since I was in the same room with him, but he looks the same, except for the cut of his suit and the color of his tie.

“I’m sure you’ve met before, but it may have been a few years, so let me introduce you again. Giorgio Vivaldi, meet Otello Tempe, my brother and consigliere.”

The ice infecting my bones spreads outward until my skin turns clammy.

I hate when my father introduces him as a blood relative. He’s not. The man single-handed tore my family apart behind my father’s back. The worst part is my father remains completely clueless.

I abhor him, but I can’t choose who my father works with. Or fucks.

They don’t keep it a secret within these walls, but outside of the house, they seem no closer than the brothers my father proclaims them to be.

I silently thank Giorgio as he pulls the same stunt with my so-called uncle as he did with my mother, keeping his body between mine and the new arrival’s.

As my partner in crime navigates the conversation with eerie ease, I act as though I don’t even exist, completely fine with fading into the background.

Until Otello pulls me into the discussion.

“I knew you two would get along, but it’s still a relief to see things going so well,” he says.

“Ah, well, who wouldn’t get along with Aurora? She’s an angel.”

My heart skips a beat at Giorgio’s unexpected praise and thinly veiled threat. While I appreciate him staking a claim over me, the less said about us in our current company, the better.

I feign happiness as best I can but hope he reads my reluctance to continue the conversation in the tightness of my smile.

“She wasn’t always so well behaved, or so low maintenance, so it’s nice your union is off to a great start.”

All the blood drains from my face. My head spins. Giorgio’s fingers flex into my side.

“I’m sorry you had doubts.” His flat tone sends a shiver down my spine. “I can’t stay long, so you’ll have to excuse me.” He turns to my mother and gives a slight dip of his chin. “Thank you for the warm welcome.”

He pulls me into the hall without another word or backward glance. My legs tingle with numbness, but I force one in front of the other, eager to put more distance between myself and all three of the people in my parents’ sitting room.

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