Page 38 of Hateful Vows
She pants, then throws her arms around Dante who grimaces with the impact as she presses weight on his wound.
I glance towards the dark corridor leading to my bedroom for escape, before my gaze settles again on their warm embrace. It’d be better if I weren’t here. I resist rubbing my hands to the front of my trousers to stave off the discomfort and prepare to make my exit when she steps in front of me. Then, just like she did Dante, she engulfs me in a hug.
“I’m glad you’re safe, too. Would be a real bummer if you died before we became besties.”
“Besties?” I mouth to Dante, with what I think must be shock on my face; my body certainly feels all wrong, with warmth and like my chest is expanding. He simply chuckles and shrugs.
“Since you’re here, join us for dinner. Did your husband not follow?” He asks. He should be happy Aleksei’s not here, not seeking to know where my step-brother has decided to take his anger.
“He said he had business. Someone named Popov keeps asking for his attention.”
I frown at the name of one of my step-father’s lieutenants but soon, my attention is diverted to my new “bestie”, who compliments my outfit, asks about my skincare routine—I’m even more surprised when I share it—and helps Dante with cooking, while I sip on a rich red wine.
The alcohol relaxes my muscles, making me more susceptible to Lucie’s easy-going personality and musical laughter as she recounts anecdotes from her youth in France.
When she leaves that evening, she kisses my cheeks and bullies me to agree to brunch. My cheeks heat up, my chest filling up with a sense of belonging so foreign I wonder if I even have the correct word for it, and I only wish I could share it with Aleksei.
On the night of the gala, Dante, Aleksei and I agreed to arrive together, surrounded by a team of bodyguards. Lucie texted me she’d stay behind. She isn’t one for public appearances, happy to play the role of the silent wife.
Tino and Ilia will be in the car with us while Lorenzo, Mikhail and Dan will follow close behind. Lorenzo willnothave a good time considering Mikhail never opens his mouth but Dan can’t shut the hell up if you pay him. Two more men on each side are already posted at the location, an elegant and minimalist hotel with a rooftop terrace where the gala will be held.
I’ve refused to admit it in the past week but seeing Dante’s blood pool on his white shirt was a shock to my system. One I did not like. I might have refused him my affections, and he hasn’t tried to touch me since that day in the office, but he’s still burrowed under my skin and the prospect of his death was…unwelcome.
I don’t think I would have cried. I think I would have been pissed. Yes, that’s it. That’s the emotion his death would have stirred inside me. Utter frustration and displeasure. Nothing else.
A knock comes from outside my bedroom door. “Come in.”
“I have the perfume you ask—wow. Don’t mind my manners Mrs Ventura, but you look phenomenal.” I almost chuckle at Francisco’s round eyes and give him a little twirl before a giggle escapes me. I slap my hands on my mouth and look around me like the boogeyman is gonna come out from the shadows and punish me for my momentary lapse in judgement. But the boogeyman is dead, slain by my step-brother. And I’m safe here in these walls. I point at Francisco. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“That you look beautiful? I think anyone can tell, ma’am. They have eyes. And if Mr Ventura doesn't tell you, maybe you need another husband.” Francisco’s candour is refreshing. I’ve taken a liking to him. Ever since his dad and brother passed, he’s been at the mansion more often, ‘reporting’ to Dante anything that he might have heard at school.
It’s mostly teenage gossip. Who chases whose skirt, who had a brawl, that sort of thing. Nothing useful to catch the personwho wants my husband dead, but Francisco means well. I invited him to work for me as my errand boy of sorts after school hours, trying to give him something to do other than comfort his grieving mother. I don’t think I should, maybe thirteen year-olds aren’t meant to go buy perfume for their don’s wives, but I don’t know. He looked so sad, so … lost. I know what it’s like to lose everything you knew and have nothing to grasp and create a sense of normalcy.
And I pay him well. Enough cash that he can buy the new headphones he’s been eyeing for weeks. He told me all about it. I was tempted to buy them for him myself but he was so excited about working for it, I created this little scheme. He makes me feel less cold somehow. And what does that say about me?
“Thank you, Francisco. Stay out of trouble this weekend, and don’t forget your homework.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with that lazy trail of the tongue and I click mine.
“Don’t‘yes, ma’am’me, you little shit. I could have you in detention every night of the week if I wanted to, don’t forget that.” My threat lacks heat and he knows it, his lips clamping down like he’s trying not to laugh at me. I let him. “Say hi to your mom for me.” He nods and disappears.
The spray of perfume on my skin helps settle my nerves at tonight’s event. I’m not scared to be shot or die, but I’m uneasy at the prospect of Dante or even Aleksei being targets. I swallow against the bile in my throat, reminding myself that this is exactly why hate is the only useful emotion in my range and I should stay in my lane.
Adorned with the jewellery and silk dress Dante got for me, I add a black faux-fur bolero on my shoulders. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone and will deny it through my teeth, but the idea of owning fur makes me want to kill the person who hurt the animal just to wear their skin. Killing a man? Of course. Thebloodier the better. An animal on the other hand? That makes me truly murderous.
I take the package I saved on my dresser and I move through the short corridor separating my bedroom to the living room. When I reach it, I stop short, shocked with how deep in conversation Aleksei and Dante are. They look conspiratorial, their conversation soft like between lovers. I shake my head at the ridiculous idea and clear my throat, schooling my features into boredom.
“When you two are done gossiping like school-children, maybe we can make haste,” I say, then slap the package on my husband’s chest. “This is for you.”
The smile that spreads on Dante’s handsome face is wolfish. “For me? Have you become sentimental,vipera?”
I click my tongue and cross my arms, delicious tiny flames licking my skin everywhere my husband’s gaze devours me hungrily.
Dante tears through the wrapping paper, his expression sobering to one of confusion and something else I can’t name. He thumbs the fabric of the shirt, a thin kevlar that will protect his vital organs, almost reverently before his dark green eyes swirl with heat when they land on mine. “I thought you hated me.”
“I do. I just don’t want anyone else to kill you. The privilege should be all mine. Now, if you’re done gawking at the piece of clothing like it holds the key to my heart, let me be clear, it doesn’t because I don’t have one, as darling Aleksei already knows. Get ready, we’re already late.”
A presence at my back as familiar as my own shadow lingers. I try to ignore it. But Aleksei’s voice caresses the delicate skin of my neck as he whispers to me. “Just because your heart is black and charred doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,solnychko.”
