Page 16 of Bloody Vows
"Bad dreams?" she asks gently.
"Something like that." I accept the coffee gratefully, needing the caffeine more than I need oxygen. I feel like I ran a gauntlet in my sleep.
“He’ll be here this evening?” she asks. “To get your answer?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Six p.m.,” I say quietly, and I see Nora’s sympathetic look. She feels for me, even if there’s nothing she can do about it, and knows there’s nothing I can do, either. There’s some small comfort in that.
In a few hours, Tristan O'Malley will walk through our front door expecting me to agree to marry him. And despite everything—the anger, the resentment, the violation of my autonomy—I'm going to say yes. Because I have to.
Because I want to live.
"Nora," I say as she turns to leave, biting my lip. She pauses, looking back at me.
"Yes,mija?"
"What if I'm not the person I thought I was? What if this… marriage… reveals something about me that I don't like?" I gnaw on my lip, waiting for her response, refusing to be more direct about it. I’m certainly not going to tell a woman who is like my mother about those dreams I had last night.
She studies my face for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. "Then you accept it, and you decide what to do with that knowledge. We are all more complicated than we like to admit, Simone. The question isn't whether you're perfect—it's whether you're strong enough to be yourself."
After she leaves, I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at my reflection in the vanity mirror. The woman looking back at me is a stranger—eyes too bright, cheeks too flushed, hair still damp from the shower. She looks like someone who's been thoroughly kissed, thoroughly claimed, even though no one has touched her.
My jaw tightens, and I look away. It was a dream. I refuse to be ruled by my subconscious, and I refuse to be ruled by him. I’llsay yes, but I have every intention of keeping in mind what Nora said to me last night.
Tristan O'Malley thinks he's won by forcing me into this marriage.
He has no idea what he's actually gotten himself into.
5
TRISTAN
When I see Simone Russo in her father’s office, facing Konstantin, my father, and me as we wait for her answer, she looks like she'd rather set herself on fire than be in the same room with me.
It's the most arousing thing I've experienced in months.
I meet her flat, cold gaze. “This is interesting,” I muse, and her mouth thins.
“What is?”
“I was expecting tears. Maybe some pleading. Begging for another option.” I tilt my head slightly. “Or have you realized that I am, in fact, thebestone?”
I can feel my father’s eyes on me. I know he doesn’t approve of this, the banter, the baiting. But I don’t care. Right now, as far as I’m concerned, it’s just me and Simone in this room, and I want to hear what she’s going to say next.
She glares at me. “Maybe I was going to say yes, and after seeing you again, decided I’d rather die.”
The thought that she could be telling the truth is more alarming than it should be. “I want a moment alone with her,” I declare, turning to look at my father and Konstantin.“Regardless of what her answer is going to be, one of those options is that she’s going to be my wife. I want to speak with her alone.”
My father looks impatient, but Konstantin nods, motioning for Finnegan to follow him out. He follows, but reluctantly.
When the door clicks behind them, I look at Simone. “You know, you could be grateful.”
"Grateful?" The word comes out like a curse. "For what, exactly?”
"For the fact that you're not going to die today, as long as you say yes to me." I cross my arms, studying her face. "Konstantin could have decided to eliminate the Russo line entirely. Instead, you get to live, you get to keep your fortune, and you get a husband who can protect what's yours. Most women in your position would be relieved."
She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Most women in my position don't have a choice in the matter."
"No," I agree. "They don't. But that's the world we live in,banphrionsa. You were raised in it, just like I was. You know how this works."
