Page 27 of Brutal Vows

His house in Florida.

Does he plan on keeping me that long?

“Why don’t we start with some casual items?” Peter suggests as he picks up a few pairs of leggings, some jeans in various styles, and a couple of different style tops. “Go ahead and change and we’ll go from there.”

Swallowing hard, I nod my head and slowly make my way into the bathroom to follow his instructions. Over the next few hours, Peter has me try on an array of outfits, ranging from cozy, soft pajamas to elaborate, shimmering ball gowns that cascade down like waterfalls. Arguing with him over the necessity of such opulent attire was futile. Despite my protests, the extravagant ball gown was destined to be mine. He even went as far as having me try on delicate, lacy lingerie items that he certainly wouldn’t be seeing on me, even if he isn’t attracted to women. It took allmy self-control to suppress the rising heat in my cheeks and prevent myself from turning beet red when he handed me the daring garments.

Then, finally, it is over, and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.

“Goodbye, darling.” Peter blows me a kiss as he follows his assistants to the door. “I’ll have the rest of the items on their way to Florida soon.”

Then he is gone in the same rushed hurricane he arrived in, and I feel as if I can finally breathe as I stare into the full-length mirror. Tilting my head gently from one side to the other, I carefully observe the subtle transformations in the mirror’s reflection. Not only did Vitali commission an entirely new wardrobe for me, filled with luxurious fabrics and elegant designs, but he also granted Peter the approval to implement any physical alterations he deemed necessary, such as restyling my hair. The strands now shimmer with a fresh hue of caramel highlights, cascading in soft waves that framed my face differently than before.

With a flutter of nerves, my fingers trace the delicate, flowing fabric of the black Palazzo pants that Peter elegantly matched with a long-sleeved pink blouse, crafted from the most exquisite silk. The material drapes smoothly, whispering softly with each movement. A subtle highlight graces my cheeks, catching the light with a gentle shimmer, while a delicate brush of mascara enhances the length and depth of my lashes. My lips bear a soft, understated nude tint, lending them a natural allure. This is my first experience with makeup. I’ve never been allowed to wear such things before unless it was for a special outing, and even then, my father hired professionals.

Now I have my own to use at my discretion.

A soft knock sounds at the door before the handle turns and it slides open.

“Can I come in?” Turning away from the mirror, I smile when I see Evaline peering around the edge of the door.

“Of course.”

She grins at me as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. As she steps in, my eyes widen when she turns toward me. The bruises are an artist’s palette of purples and blues splashed haphazardly across the canvas of her face. They aren’t formed carelessly; they bear the unmistakable mark of intention. Each one is an echo, a painful reminder of something I know she would rather forget yet has been etched into her skin like an unwanted tattoo. The largest one spreads over her cheekbone like sickly twilight, a mottled blend of plums and silvery blues that swallow up the natural glow of her skin. Flecks of yellow dance around the edges where the once vibrant hues are gradually healing into nothingness.

My heart twists painfully, knowing first-hand the amount of pain she endured. It is a pain I know all too well.

“You can tell Peter got a hold of you.” Her laugh is soft, like warm honey. Evaline is a study in contrasts, petite yet resilient. Her countenance, delicate with a chin angling to a refined point, has the captured essence of a petite bird; fragile appearing yet full of a certain determined intensity. The fact that she can even smile after what she’s endured, makes her stronger than me.

“He’s a force of nature,” I chuckle, joining her at the small table near the balcony. “But he was very nice and patient.”

“A hurricane, for sure,” she laughs. Her eyes wander toward the balcony window, where the sheer curtains flutter gently in the breeze, and she releasesa long, weary sigh. After a moment, her gaze returns to me, her expression showing nothing but concern. “I wanted to be sure that you were doing okay.”

I stare at her surprised. “I think I should be the one asking you that question,” I point out. “I meant to come visit but Vitali” Evaline nods her head, a solemn understanding on her face.

“I get it,” she assures me with a gentle smile. “Those men…they aren’t used to trusting. And now, with Kenzo’s mother—I fear that it might get worse. So much of what they have built now stands in question because of her betrayals.”

“It isn’t about contesting their empires,” she explains sadly. “They doubt themselves. Adrian will wonder if the wars he has started, the hands he has greased, and the alliances he has started were his ideas or the ideas of someone working in the shadows ready to take power. Kenzo will blame himself for the death of all three of their fathers and the men who followed them. Even though Megumi’s treachery began long before he was conceived. And Vitali—” she pauses for a moment to consider her words. “—Vitali knows he will have to face his biggest fear.”

My brow furrows deeply as I consider her words. Each of these three men, resilient and determined, have clawed their way up from the depths of despair after their fathers’ untimely deaths. They have wrestled with grief and hardship, striving tirelessly to rebuild their lives from the remnants left behind. Now, they face the disconcerting truth: an unseen puppet master has been manipulating their every move, orchestrating their struggles from the shadows. For how long? How much control do the three of them truly have or has it been an illusion this entire time?

“Look—” Closing my eyes, I take a deep, calmingbreath. When I feel steadier, I open them. Evaline is gazing at me patiently with a small smile of understanding painted on her lips. “—I don’t want this to sound harsh, or anything, but I don’t care.”

My statement takes her by surprise.

“Vitali took me,” I rush out. “Yes, he saved me, but I’m not here because I want to be. He’s planning on using me to get what he wants. Selling me back to my father and for what? A corrupt broken empire of backstabbers and blood traitors. I’m nothing but a pawn to him, to all of you. So, excuse me if I’m not rolling on the give a fuck train.”

I’m not sure what I am expecting from Evaline, but it isn’t the hearty, belly-deep laughter that she gives me. It takes her several moments to calm herself down, tears trailing down her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she giggles, holding her side. “I really needed that.”

I’m not entirely certain what she found amusing, but her laughter is a welcome relief. The way her eyes crinkle at the corners and the melodic sound of her chuckles is better than anger.

“My mother killed Kenzo’s baby brother.” My eyes widen in shock at her sudden statement. “It was while she was pregnant with me. She was driving drunk and struck the car he was in with the nanny, killing them both. Kenzo’s father spared my mother when he found out she was pregnant. Forced her to live with a child she didn’t want.” Evaline shrugs, her voice growing distant. “He set up a marriage arrangement between Kenzo and me. An agreement Kenzo held to even after his father’s death. The day of our wedding, I ran.

“Ran as far as I could because I thought exactly what you are thinking. That I was merely a pawn. A means to anend. I spent my entire life being controlled by my parents. Feared them and what they were capable of. For three years, I was happy and free.”

“What about now?” I ask her, forcing down the tightness in my throat. “Are you happy and free?”

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