Page 90 of Dangerous Vows

The space between us disappears as he reaches for me, his hands sliding around my waist, careful of my injuries. His touch is warm and steady, and I crave it.

“I’ll protect you,” he murmurs. “No matter what.” And for a second, I allow myself to believe this is his way of making up. And if it is, I’ll take it, because the weight of everything consumes me—the fear, the stress, the exhaustion. I’d brave it all if only he were mine again.

There’s no pain like wanting something with your whole soul… and knowing they might never want you back.

I lift my chin, but before I can say anything, his lips are on mine.

The kiss is slow and deliberate, his hand cupping my jaw, and his fingers threading through my hair. I tremble under his touch. My stomach does flip-flops as I melt into him, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer.

And then, he lifts me into his strong arms. I don’t protest when he carries me into my bedroom.

And for the first time in weeks, I feel safe.

Because Pietro is holding me.

I can’t get enough of him. We’re like a fire that’s been starved. Our hands frantically cover the other’s body, grasping, pulling, kissing and sucking. It’s crazy.

It’s hot and intense. He consumes me.

I snuggle into him, wondering where we are as a couple, but after he places me on the bed, he takes a step back. And his look stops me cold.

“You need your rest.”

And those four words send me reeling. He’s deflecting. He’s putting another wall up.

Filled with the weight of rejection, my heart drops like glass slipping off a ledge—silent until it shatters.

I long for him to say something meaningful— anything, but he remains quiet. Then, he turns and leaves abruptly.

When the door clicks behind him, I cry. I try to stifle my sobs, but it’s impossible. I cry, and when I think it will subside, I cry some more. This is what it’s like to be in love.

I’ve reached my breaking point. I hate love. Love is overrated. Love is misery and pain. Love requires two people to love equally, and I’ve never witnessed that. Love is just a way to trap women, like my mother, and now me.

I never believed he would cast me aside. How did he turn into someone that I don’t even recognize?

I still crave his affection, his attention, and his love, but the sight of me turns him off. I know I shouldn’t want more, but I do.

But he only sees me as a means to an end, and he wants his baby.

It kills me to admit that my father was right.

I’m here to serve a purpose—to birth the next heir.

PIETRO

I’LL HURT HER IF I STAY

Ican’t trust myself around her.

I know she didn’t set me up, but it’s not that simple.

I’ve been honest with her, and she’s not honest with me. Honesty and respect are everything in our world.

I’m cursed, and her being beaten proves it. I should have prevented it. I blame myself. But the ordeal taught me a valuable lesson. And that is that my father was right.

Emotions can make us weak, and emotional decisions are often not the best choices. Women can be used as a weapon, and in our world, women are used to make peace.

I also learned that caring for someone comes with a huge responsibility. I have to be alert. I can’t let emotions cloud my judgment. Therefore, I will keep my feelings locked inside. I can’t show love, or fear, or regret. I will bottle everything up. It’s worked well for me so far.

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