Page 29 of Possessive Vows

“He does not react well to insult,” Dimitri says.

I need no more encouragement, even though it doesn’t seem likely that Feliks would be offended after how he discarded me. Dimitri’s previous words echo in my mind—this isn’t about me, it’s about Feliks thinking his plan failed.

I twist and lower my feet to the ground.

Dimitri steps back. I clear my throat. He shifts his unyielding gaze down to me.

“Give me your hand,” I force myself to say.

Even as my insides quail, I slip my hand into his and use his strength to rise. Surprise and approval soften his gaze before he dons the stony mask of a bratva assassin.

Despite the brief contact, I need a moment to recover, so I fix the hem of my sweatshirt and step toward the trunk to escape from between Dimitri’s massive body and the car. He hands the key fob to the valet and returns to my side.

I clutch my purse and walk beside him for a few steps before we pivot around the back of the car.

“Your arm,” I hiss.

He offers me his elbow. I slip my hand between his torso and his arm and rest my fingertips in the crook of his elbow, touching him as little as possible while appearing affectionate.

My confidence drains as I catch our reflection in the window, but I roll my shoulders back as he leads me into the jewelry store. I don’t recognize everyone in the store, but by the furtive glances and whispers behind their hands, they know who I am. Busy for the time of day, I struggle to breathe as Dimitri meanders around the other couples as though we do this every day together.

I used to wear accessories every day as a model, but now the last thing I want is to be the center of attention, so I barely glance at the products as we stroll past.

My bladder complains. I drank too much coffee.

“I need the restroom,” I murmur just loud enough for Dimitri to hear.

He growls but heads toward the posh waiting room with the restroom signs leading down two separate halls.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick,” I say.

“Do not apologize,so´lnyshka. I am here if you need anything, but I will come in if you take too long,” he warns.

I let go of his arm and start down the short hall to the women’s restroom while he sets up sentry at the entrance. After pushing through the door to the powder room, I continue straight through to the toilets and freeze as I come face to face with my mother.

She drops her polite mask, grabs me by the arm she knows was broken, and yanks me over to the nearest sink. I dig the heels of my sneakers into the marble and try to pry her fingers off, but she tightens her grip hard enough to leave bruises.

The air whooshes from my lungs and white-hot agony spears through my stomach as she flings me into the edge of the sink. Deep, burning pain radiates up my arm and into my shoulder.

“Give me your phone,” she snarls.

Before my diaphragm relaxes enough for me to draw a breath, she wrenches my purse off my shoulder and snaps it open.

“If you ignore my call one more time, I’ll marry you off to the oldest, sickest socialite I can find.Capisci, Camilla?”

I shake my head and reach for my phone, but she swats my arm and shoves me against the sink again.

“Your sister should’ve never dragged you into her mess. She’s using you, you know that, right?”

Her words make no sense. Serenity gains nothing from me but heartache and worry.

My mama was never a good mother figure, but she was the only one I had, but no longer in the dark pit of depression, I now realize how desperately I needed Serenity’s intervention.

My mother is the reason I cut ties with my family after I accepted my dream modeling job. I was never good enough for her. Never perfect enough. Never enough of a doormat.

Fury sweeps through me, followed by a rush of adrenaline. I push off the sink and knock my phone out of her hand.

“Serenity loves me, Mama. You’re the one using me.”

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