Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

14

Aria

Marylin pours hot water into the teapot and sets it down on the tray with an assortment of continental pastries laid out in neat rows.

It looks like something you’d find in one of those fancy bakeries like a French patisserie.

I’m guessing that’s for me. She’s been bringing me breakfast in the mornings straight to my room. Today I thought I would come out to her.

My ass hurts like a bitch, and I probably should avoid people because it won’t take much to guess what sort of punishment Lucca gave me once I sit down.

I felt I owed her some apologies, though. The last thing I want to do is upset and offend someone like Marylin, especially when she seems to be charged with taking care of me.

I don’t want to look like the bitch and make her job harder, which in turn means I’ll suffer for it.

I walk into the kitchen carefully so as not to startle her, but I fail when she turns and sees me approaching and jumps, startled by my presence.

“Oh my, you scared me half to death,” she chortles with a little smile. I’m amazed she can smile at me after the way I spoke to her.

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you last night too. It was wrong of me. I’m not usually like that.” Nervously, I knit my fingers together.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about that. I can understand where you’re coming from and why you reacted the way you did. I know this isn’t a normal situation.”

“You know what’s happening to me?”

“Yes. I am aware.”

I already thought so. Hearing it confirmed, however, throws me off a little. I’m not sure I could stand by and watch someone in my situation and do nothing. But I don’t know her, and I don’t know her reasons for working for a man like Lucca.

“I guess it really isn’t the best situation to be in. Do you know anything about me?”

“I know a little. I know about your memory loss and that you lost your mother recently. I’m sorry for both.” She nods.

“Thank you. I don’t remember her—my mother. That’s terrible, isn’t it? I remember I love her, but I don’t remember who she was or the time we spent together.”

Sympathy fills her eyes. “That’s awful, but at least you remember you loved her.”

I nod. “I was told she took me to my first music class. I was five years old. It was supposed to be the piano and until I heard the violin.”

At least Dad told me those parts of my life.

“You play the violin? That’s my favorite instrument.”

“Mine too, apparently, although I don’t play it anymore. Maybe one day, though.”

She nods at that and smiles. “Come and eat. I was just about to take these to you. How about we sit together in the courtyard, and you can tell me some more about yourself.”

“I’d like that.”

She picks up the tray, and we walk out onto the terrace, then to the little wicker table and chairs in the garden where she lays the tray down.

We sit opposite each other, and she smiles at me as she pours out some tea that smells delicious. I look a little closer and notice the red color.

“What tea is that?”

“It’s Rooibos and vanilla, from South Africa. I like different blends of teas. There’s a different blend for everything. This is calming and invigorating. I thought it might help you. I already sweetened it with honey, so it should taste nice. Try some.”

I take the cup and sip. She’s right; it does taste good. It’s not too sweet that I can’t taste the blend of flavors. The vanilla, honey, and a strong taste, I’m assuming, is the Rooibos.

“I like it. It’s very good. I’m a coffee person, so I don’t get around to trying tea very much. I like new things, though.”

“Good. I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.”

“So, let’s talk. I was told your memories are gone. You seriously don’t remember anything at all?”

I won’t tell her about Lucca. That’s not important right now. “Now. Everything is gone. I’ve just been trying to make new memories.”

“What about languages. I presume you speak Italian.”

“If I did, I can’t remember.”

Dad doesn’t speak Italian around me, but my aunts and uncles do. I don’t understand a word of it.

“Well, there’s little point asking if you speak Russian then.”

“It’s the same.”

“I’m certain Lucca will teach you. If he doesn’t, I will.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Well. It’s not nice to have people around you speaking a different language, and you don’t know what they’re talking about.”

I see her point, and now I appreciate the offer even more.

“No, that happens with my family.”

“Ask me a question, dear. It’s your turn,” she invites, and that twinkle comes back to her eyes.

I think of what to ask. I assume any answers she’ll give me will be limited, so I drum up the basics. Or what I think I might get away with calling basic.

“Is it okay if I ask you again about Lucca’s work?” I say it like that to stay on the side of caution.

Marylin is a clever woman. She’ll know if I’m asking that question again it’s because something or someone sparked my curiosity.

She opens her palms and drags in a breath. “I think can tell you basics.”

That’s different to what she said that first day. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

“He’s part of the Bratva. His general role is the Obshchak. That is the bookmaker. He’s in change of taking care of the money made and overseeing the Pakhan’s bank. Like a manager of sorts. Above all, his duty is always to serve the Pakhan and the Sovietnik—the Pakhan’s advisor. In the Bratva you give your life to protect both. He has other special skills though that make him valuable.”

She gives me a knowing look and I understand it. It’s to do with his other role as enforcer.

“Thank you. I appreciate you telling me that.”

“Your welcome. The other people you will see around here is Damien Mikhailov, who is another person of authority. He’s also Lucca’s foster father. Jon, is Lucca’s best friend and the head of security. Alexei is next in command to Jon. That’s it.”

“How long have you worked for Lucca?” I ask and try to forget the way the man spanked me then fingered me after like that was normal.

“I took care of him when he was a boy. My husband and I lived in that little cottage in our years of service here. I’ve lived here for close to thirty years.”

I’m beginning to see where her loyalty stems from. It’s the years of service and the closeness. It almost makes you family.

“That’s a long time.”

“It is. I continued to work here even after Lucca’s family were killed.”

My eyes widen. When he said his family was dead, I didn’t know they were killed.

“They were killed?”

“Yes, right here on the grounds, along with my husband. He was one of the security guards.” Her eyes dull as she looks at me. It’s understandable.

“My God. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“It was terrible. Lucca made a lucky escape. He was only thirteen. His mother, sisters, father, and baby brother were all killed.” She presses her lips together. As she explains, I feel it again—that eerie vibe. Now I know what it is. People died here. “It happened in that section of the house.” She points over to the section to the left of us.

It’s where the balcony connects, and one of the places I was told Lucca preferred I didn’t go. Now I understand why.

When I look over there, what I feel is sadness and grief. Despite my encounter with Lucca, I feel even more compassion now for hearing his family were killed.

“How did he survive it? Was he there?”

“No, he wasn’t. He was being typical Lucca and went off playing with his friends. It happened on my day off. I was visiting my father. So I, too, avoided the massacre. The staff in the house and outside, though, were all killed along with the family.”

“That’s really sad.”

“It is. That’s what exists underneath the hard exterior of Lucca. When his family was killed, he went to live with Damien. He was his father’s best friend. Lucca moved back here five years ago. I resumed my service to him then. His family really took care of me. His father in particular saved my family from death on more than one occasion.”

“I understand.”

I can see it in her eyes and hear it in her words she’s answering the question I’ve been curious about. I’m thinking of Damien too, and I remember Sienna’s caution about him. Lucca will be loyal to him for taking care of him.

“He’ll um… attempt the dinner again tonight.”

“I guessed he would.”

“He wants to talk about the wedding, and I suppose to give you your ring.”

“He didn’t need to have a dinner for that.”

“No, he didn’t, but he wanted to. The wedding organizer will be here from tomorrow onward, and so will the seamstress.”

“I’m getting married. It’s really happening, isn’t it?” I press my lips together.

“Yes, it is. He’s allowed me to help you and agreed for your cousin to come by as often as you want to assist with the wedding.”

I wonder if that’s guilt over last night. Maybe not. Men like him don’t feel guilty for anything. Maybe it’s more the case that having Sienna around will serve to calm me, and he thinks I’ll be more compliant.

“That’s nice of him.” I can’t hide the bitter edge in my tone.

“I know it’s not my place to say this to you, but I think it might be helpful to hear wisdom from an old lady who’s seen too much happen in this house. Try to make the most of the situation in a way that doesn’t affect you more than it has.”

“How can I do that? We know nothing about each other.”

“You just have to. I might not agree or support what happens here, but that doesn’t stop me from offering my support to you. If you fight him, he’ll fight back, and it will be a hundred times worse. I don’t think that’s what you want or need.”

I’m listening. I might not agree either, but she’s right. I’m trapped here, and that magical way out I’m seeking is through Lucca.

“It’s not what I need.”

“No. I thought you might like it if we went shopping today for a dress, so you can pick something to wear for tonight.”

I smile at that. “He still wants me to wear a dress?”

“Yes, but I figured it might be nicer to be in something of your liking.”

“I guess that would be easier.”

“We can leave in a little while. We also have an appointment with your new doctor next week.”

“Christ, he’s not going to give me a lobotomy, is he? Because if he is, I’ll pass.”

She chuckles. “That won’t happen. I assure you, and again, I will accompany you.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to have someone there with me.”

The distinct sound of heels clicking against the stone pavement steals her next words away. We both turn to see a beautiful blonde woman wearing a little red summer dress making her way over to us.

She walks like she’s on the runway, and with her looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t a model.

In my shorts, tank top, and trademark bun, I look like street trash compared to her.

I notice the way Marylin straightens when the woman approaches, and she doesn’t smile at all.

“Hello, Violet, can I help you with something?” Marylin asks.

“No, I’m fine. The boss wants me to do some filing today, and the paperwork I need is all here.”

Boss?So she works for Lucca?

Doing what?

“Oh, right, well, did you need me for something?” Marylin asks.

“No, I just came to meet my competition.” Violet looks at me, and I stare back with a deadpan expression. “So this is her. The fiancée.”

Great, so this is one of the whores. I didn’t know I was actually going to meet one.

“Hi.” I decide to be polite.

“You have no idea how many broken hearts our guy has left in his wake on hearing of your upcoming nuptials. I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. You seem a little on the young and inexperienced side.” She gives me a haughty glare. “He usually likes his women to be wild in bed. Someone who knows how to please a man like him.”

I stare back, not knowing what to say because she struck a nerve.

“I think that’s enough of an introduction, Violet,” Marylin cuts in.

“Yes. It certainly is. Bye for now.”

She smiles and walks away, her Prada pumps clicking as she goes along the path.

What a bitch.

“Don’t pay any attention to her. She’s just Lucca’s P.A,” Marylin assures me.

“I don’t think that’s all she does, Marylin.”

She doesn’t answer.