Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

9

Lucca

The next morning, I wake with the sun, do some work for a few hours with my business contracts and book the church for the wedding.

When I’m done, I make my way to see Aria with some of the things I’d taken from the other night.

I unlock the door and go in. She's still asleep on the bed in the same position and naked.

I know I’m going to freak her the hell out, but I don’t care.

It’s good that she’s at least aware in her sleep because anybody could have come in here. Of course, they wouldn’t have dared unless they wanted to die, but that doesn’t change the concept that they could.

She stirs the moment she hears my footsteps. When her bright brown eyes fly open, and she sees me, she shrieks and reaches for the sheet to cover herself.

“My God, what are you doing in here!” she cries.

Sitting up, she pulls the sheet up to her neck as if that can erase the succulent peaks of her breasts from my mind.

“Morning,” I say with a crude smile. “You really shouldn’t sleep naked. Although I like it.”

Her cheeks color, and she presses her lips together. “I was hot. I didn’t think anyone could open the door.”

“This is my room. You think I’d allow you to lock yourself in here or lock me out?”

“My mistake.”

“And my gain,” I smirk.

Her eyes dart to her purse in my hand, and hope sparks her eyes. Before she can ask me about it, I toss it on the bed over to her. Keeping the sheet close, she reaches for the purse and opens it.

“Everything is intact, but I installed a tracker on your phone.” I don’t have to tell her that, but I want to start this relationship with some level of trust. If I’m upfront about what I expect, it will be easier to control her.

“Why did you do that?” she challenges.

“Why do you think?”

I can see she wants to hand me my ass but holds back. The fire in her personality just makes her more appealing.

“So, I’ll have no privacy at all?”

“You’ll have privacy when I can trust that you won’t do something to piss me off. So the tracker stays in there. Marylin showed you around the manor. I’m sure you’re now aware of where you can and can’t go.”

“Yes, I am. Don’t you think it’s a little weird to live somewhere and be restricted from going into certain parts of the house?” Her brows snap together.

Of course, I agree with her, but there are parts of the house I need to keep to myself for the moment, like my office and the left-wing of the house where my family died. More importantly, where they’re buried. Their graves are in a section of the garden I don’t want anybody going to.

“That’s how I want it to be. There’s no need for you to go in any of those places until I tell you to.” That seems to stop whatever she had geared up to tell me next. “You can go off the premises accompanied by either Marylin or a guard. Either will be equipped to pay for whatever you want.”

“I don’t need your money,” she snaps.

“You’re getting it whether you want it or not.” She will need it. Her mother left money in a trust fund for her, but it won’t last forever. Her father also gave her an allowance, but I requested that stop immediately, and I’d take care of her. “You’re also free to visit your family, but I want you taking either Jon or Alexei, my personal guards who you’ll meet this week.”

“Why one of your personal guards?”

“I don’t want your father or any of your family trying shit. Or any of my other enemies. Lastly, watch what you say on the phone. I’d prefer if you kept calls to a minimum, the same for anyone coming to see you here. I want to know who’s coming beforehand too.”

“Can I see my cousin today? She’ll be worried about me.”

I know about this cousin of hers, Sienna. I know from my surveillance that she’s close to her. Since she probably needs someone she can trust now more than ever, I won’t rob her of that.

“Yes, you can see her.”

She looks surprised. “Thank you. What can I tell her? I have to my cousin I’m getting married. We’re very close, and she’s real family to me.”

“You can tell her you're getting married. That’s all she needs to know.” I already know that’s not going to be the only thing she tells her, but she’s a clever girl. She won’t go into details.

“Okay. I also need to call my college tutor.”

“College tutor?” I expected her to ask to speak to her father, even after he hit her. I’m a little surprised she hasn’t asked, but glad at the same time. The less contact she has with him, the better.

“I didn’t finish my last year of study because of the accident. I was hoping to do so in September. I need to let my tutor know I won’t be accepting the offer.”

“What offer?” I honestly didn’t think she’d want to go back to school. I was expecting her to ask me about working or something like that.

“To go to the business school.”

“What are you doing studying business? I thought you got a music scholarship. If you want to finish your last year at school, shouldn’t it be to do that?”

Sadness bleeds into her eyes, and I know I’ve struck a nerve again.

“I can’t play the violin anymore,” she rasps. “I don’t remember how.”

Her gaze drops to the sheet, but I continue to watch her. It’s hard not to because I can’t imagine her not being able to play the violin. Few things stun me. This is a first in a while, and it takes me a moment to process it.

I didn’t know she couldn’t play anymore. I never factored in something like that could happen, but of course, it would. Losing memories of who you are would also take away what you can do.

Music was how we began.

She was five, and I was seven.

I’ve heard her play the violin countless times. Every time I heard her play, it did something different to me. She started it playing properly when she was eight.

Even from back then, she played like she was born to play the instrument. It was like she was the music, and the music was her. The beauty in her and the music was always what tamed the beast inside me.

The same thing happened three years ago and was probably the reason for what I did for her. It made me remember something about the shy little girl I once knew.

So… she can’t remember how to play the violin, but she remembers me?

I don’t want to think about what that must mean in regard to how she felt about me.

I can’t start thinking like that now, then feeling guilty about her finding out the truth. I can’t allow that to matter when so many wrongs need to be put right.

The fact of the matter is we were never supposed to be in each other’s lives in any lifetime. Not when we were kids and not three years ago. Fate assured that because it was only a handful of months after I saved her that the accident at the lake house took her memories and her mother.

“Is there a deadline?” I ask, cutting into the silence.

She lifts her head again. “Not so much, but he’d like my answer soon so he can plan my program.”

“You want to do business?”

“No, it’s just something to do. They can make arrangements to transfer some credits, but I’d still have to do an extra year to have a qualifying degree. Of course, if I had my memories back, something better could be arranged.”

“Then hold off on contacting yet.” I’m not having her waste her time on a course she doesn’t want to do, and not when she can use it as an excuse to get away from me. If she’s going to finish at Berklee, then it needs to be to finish her music studies. That means she needs to get her memories back. If she can’t, then she can finish college somewhere closer. “We’ll talk about school another time. There are a few things I want you to get done over the next few days.”

“Like what?” She gives me a narrowed look.

“I want you to have a different doctor and some other kind of therapy.” I don’t trust anybody who works for Raphael and that fucking doctor he’s been letting her see is on his payroll. I would have allowed her to continue if he was a regular doctor and there was no risk of them trying to infiltrate through her treatment. Besides, the fact she doesn’t seem to have improved much in over two years suggests change is necessary.

“Why? There’s nothing wrong with the doctor I have.”

“Aria, do you think he’s helping you?”

“Not really. But then again, I was told there would be permanent damage to my brain, so I don’t have much hope.”

“If you can remember me, then it means something’s happening in your mind.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. So, I want a different doctor.”

I haven’t asked what exactly she remembered about me, but I assume it can’t be a lot, or she would be asking more questions. I also haven’t asked because I didn’t want to stir any memories of me. I suspect they will come in time, and I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.

“Maybe getting a second opinion might not be such a bad idea,” she agrees.

At last, something we can agree on.

“Precisely.” Civilized as this conversation is, it’s about to take a turn for something she won’t like. “You’re also going to the Gynecologist after breakfast to get checked.”

Now her face flushes crimson. “What! Checked for what?”

“Don’t let me spell it out for you. I like to fuck bareback, so I need you clean and on birth control.”

She looks mortified then enraged. “I am, except I haven’t had my pill since the other night because you had my purse.”

“Well, there’s no harm in having a check so I can be sure.”

“You asshole! I’ve spent the last two years in hospitals, seeing one doctor or therapist after another. How much of a social life do you think I’ve had?”

“I don’t know, but you were in a club by yourself nights ago, and I’m pretty sure if I didn’t take you, you would have allowed me to fuck you right there on the dance floor.”

“How dare you? I’m not a whore.”

“Are you a virgin?” I throw out.

At first, her gaze hardens, then a slight look of confusion crosses her face. I’m not sure why it’s there.

“I assumed you…” She swallows hard. “I assumed you must know the answer to that. I thought maybe that was why I remember you.”

Her reasoning makes sense. She thought it was me who took her virginity. I didn’t, although I wish I did.

“No, it’s not that,” I answer in a clipped tone.

Her face hardens again, and she tries to hide her embarrassment. “Are you getting a test?”

“I’m clean.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because I said so.” I smile at the defeated look on her face. “And because I own you, I say you go to the doctor, get your pussy checked, and be ready for me to fuck you properly.” So I can finally satisfy my three-year hard-on.

“Anything else, Sir?” she snaps back, and fucking hell, she thinks she’s smart-mouthing me by calling me Sir, but it’s turning me on.

“Yes. Save the Sir for when I tie you to my bed and fuck you, and we’re having dinner at eight. I’ll see you then, Printsessa.”

She glares at me as I walk out but doesn’t say anything.

She must hate me, and she has every reason to.

Anything other than hate will hurt her more than I already have.