Page 4 of Lethal Vows

This manwho is walking away from me right now.

“Stop!” I call after him.

He does, and when he looks back, I rethink my decision to leave. Should I stay? How bad would it be to be married to someone like him?

I’m not really sure.

“Why would you want to know?” I ask.

His hands slide into the pockets of his dark jeans, and I walk closer to stand by his side.

“If you had a choice, would you marry?” I question.

His response is quick and unyielding. “Yes. My father did it, and his father before that.”

That means Crue is next in line.

And his family?

I’ve heard horror stories about his family.

My father is powerful, but his family… well, they don’t play around. And it seems that I’m about to break a family tradition. Marriage to a Monti. It’s why my father was hoping for a boy. His generation skipped being married to a Monti, but I guess now that’s not the case.

“Do you not want to be in love? Not forced to marry someone not of your choosing?” I ask, baffled at his answer to my previous question.

“You may be able to run away, but I cannot.” His gaze slides to his brother before coming back to me. “If I’m not married by thirty-four, I will come find you, princess.”

His words take me aback.

“What if I am married?”

“That will be bad for your husband.” He smirks, then strides off.

CHAPTER2

Rya

Today

Dear Miss Ricci

You don’t know this yet, but you will be my wife.

Sincerely

Your soon-to-be husband

“Thirty. Oh my God, Rya, thirty.”Monica throws her arms around my neck. My dress is half zipped up, and I struggle to get it all the way up because of her. I blow out a half-frustrated huff that’s assumed to be because I am struggling with the dress. But my mind keeps drawing back to the email I received earlier. It came from an email address I don’t recognize, and I put it straight in the trash when I saw it. Tonight isn’t the night to worry over random emails, and it’s probably a scam or something anyway.

“I know. Now, please pull away so I can get dressed.” I huff and tap her naked back. Monica couldn’t care less though—nudity to her is like clothes. The number of times I have gone over to her house and she has been butt-ass naked is insane. At least this time, I suppose she’s wearing a bra and panties. She also knows I hate affection, but she always needs it.

“I’m just excited, and you look so beautiful.” Monica finally pulls back and claps her hands. I zip up my teal dress, and I have the impression her excitement is more over the dress than me. Her breasts bounce, barely strapped in by her silky bronze bra, as she lets out another shrill noise. She intends to wear a low-cut dress that suits her figure perfectly, meaning she can, if she wants, have any man she desires. I’ve watched it happen multiple times throughout our friendship.

My dress, however, is slightly different. The teal color—different from the black I usually wear for every occasion, from work to social gatherings to dates—complements my sun-kissed skin and eye color, which is as close to silver as anyone could get. It’s only because the sales assistant at Macy’s begged me to try on this dress that I fell in love with it in the first place. So here I am, stepping out of my comfort zone and wearing something different. I guess turning thirty is a new decade and all.

“Thanks, though maybe I should be wearing black. You know, for the end of my twenties,” I tell her. “Like those photoshoots they do where it’s like a death.”

“Please, those bitches don’t realize your thirties are amazing. You stop giving a fuck so much more than in your twenties.” She reaches for her red dress and slips it on, throwing her bra to the wind. “Is any of your family coming?”

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