Page 18 of Savage Vows
He finally turns, meeting my eyes with something like amusement. “Her older sister. Adriana.”
Liam’s brow furrows. “I didn’t even know she had a sister.”
I almost smile at that. I heard the name, once or twice, years ago. Adriana Petrova. Never seen at any of the family gatherings, not pictured in any of the society papers. She left the city before any of this started, slipped off the map and out of everyone’s minds. No one important.
One of my uncles, standing beside us, scoffs with open contempt. His voice carries across the marble floor. “You’re marrying him to a whore. She walked away from the family. No one knows what she’s been doing all this time.”
Roman Petrov’s jaw tightens, his son shifting awkwardly beside him. The priest pretends to check his notes, his face blank.
I ignore the comment. None of that concerns me. I have no interest in their rumors, or what Adriana might have done while she was gone. Her past has nothing to do with the agreement that matters now.
Our father addresses the group, not just me. “This is settled. The priest will be ready. She’s already on her way.”
Liam leans closer. “Are you sure you’re fine with this?”
I keep my voice low, watching the colored sunlight crawl across the aisle. “It makes no difference to me. A Petrova is a Petrova.”
I sense the weight of everyone’s attention, waiting for some reaction. I give them nothing. This is business, and I intend to treat it that way.
Now, all that’s left is to wait for her to arrive.
Liam catches my arm as the group starts to scatter, pulling me a few steps away from the others. His voice is low, meant for me alone. “This is insane, you know that, right? You don’t even know her. Nobody’s seen her in years.”
I meet his eyes. “It was always going to be about the family, not the person.”
He shakes his head, frustrated. “This isn’t just business anymore. You can walk away. No one would blame you.”
I don’t answer. There’s nothing to say that will make him understand. We were raised in the same house, but Liam always believed there was a way out. I never did.
Before I can respond, our father wheels his chair over, gaze fixed on me. “I need a word, Dante.”
Liam steps back, jaw clenched, and disappears into the pews. Our father nods once and gestures toward the side door leading out to the cathedral garden. I follow, walking quietly beside him as the old stone path crunches beneath our feet.
The garden is empty, shielded by high hedges and statues gone green with age. The air is cooler out here, heavy with the scent of earth and faded roses. My father pauses in a patch of sunlight, his hand resting on the joystick of his chair, eyes set on some distant point.
My thoughts wander for a moment, to the new name he handed me without ceremony. Adriana. The older sister. I wonder what she’s doing back in New York, after all these years gone and all those silences stacked up like debts. If she’s anything like her family, she won’t be happy about being dragged into this.
And then there’s Julianne.
I picture her, the way she looked at our engagement dinner—eyes cold, chin high, beautiful in a way that draws a man’s gaze whether he wants to notice or not. I’m not blind. I can admit that much. But I never really bothered to check up on her, not once in all the time since this was arranged. Her moods, her wants, her plans never mattered to me. She was always part of the deal, never the reason for it.
Now someone else is stepping into her place, and for the first time I feel a flicker of curiosity, wondering what the older sister will bring to the table.
My father tilts his head, studying me like he’s measuring how much of his time I’m worth today. “Say it,” he tells me.
I know what he means. I’ve known it since I was old enough to hold a knife steady. “Strength in silence. Loyalty without question.”
He nods once, satisfied. “Good. That’s what has kept us alive, and that’s what will keep us ahead of the men who want to see us gone.”
The chair creaks slightly as he leans forward. “Do not forget what the Petrovs did to us. They spat on our name. They laughed at me in rooms where I once held the floor. They thought they could cut us out and leave us crawling.”
I meet his gaze. “They paid for that.”
“Not enough,” he says flatly. “And not in the right way. This marriage is the last piece. It ties their blood to ours in a way they can’t erase. Every time they see her beside you, they will remember what they lost, and who took it from them.”
I let the words settle. He wants me to believe this is about uniting the families, about business. But I can hear it underneath—the need to make them kneel, to grind old humiliation into something permanent.
“Do you understand your duty?” he asks.
