Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

36

Aria

The Pakhan’s home reminds me of the mansion in Dynasty. It’s almost like it was modeled off it, and honestly might be bigger.

My guess is I could be right, given that it’s nighttime, and I can’t exactly see what’s beyond the grand structure of the home before me.

Lucca closes the car door after I step out, and I look at him in his tux.

He looks so different I barely recognize him. The elegant look is in complete contrast to the usual ruggedness I’m used to. I like both, but this version makes me more nervous than I already am.

I look good too. I’m wearing a red cocktail dress Marylin and I picked out when we went shopping yesterday. My hair is down and styled with waves the stylist spent hours on earlier. She spent the same amount of time on my makeup too.

I knew from the effort, tonight would be important, and I had to play the part I was required to play.

I don’t want to be out. I don’t feel ready and would have preferred to stay in rather than socialize with people. I’m still fragile from the revelation of what happened to me as a child.

However, tonight was in the cards from weeks ago. It's the Pakhan’s birthday party, and I had it in my head that I had to be here, and I’d be meeting some of the most dangerous men on earth.

I also had today at the forefront of my mind because it’s exactly a week before the wedding.

By this time next week, Lucca and I will be married. That terrifies me for so many reasons.

Aside from the obvious, I’m worried about seeing Dad at the wedding. That will be the next time I see him if he’s not here tonight.

I haven’t asked Lucca if we’d be seeing Dad. After the last encounter, I’ve avoided talking about Dad at all costs. I do need to speak to him because I want answers with regards to my abuser, but I’ve decided to hold off for a while. At least until I remember a face.

Lucca has been gentle with me. I don’t want to disrupt this calm we have and make things worse for myself. Physically or mentally.

Right now, I’d rather be on the devil’s right arm than in his path.

“Hey, it will be okay,” Lucca assures me.

“I’m just nervous.”

When he takes my hand, the warmth from his skin unravels the knots in my stomach. We’ve grown unmistakably closer since the spell of truths were revealed over the last few days.

I won’t deny I’m still conflicted. There are many things to be conflicted about, and I should still exercise caution. If only to remind myself, we’re light years away from the boy and the girl we used to be in that fairytale world that's still alive in my dreams.

At the same time, when he touches me, all I feel is him. All there is is him, and I know that makes everything more complicated than it already is.

But then we always were complicated.

“You look beautiful in that red dress; you have nothing to be nervous about.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and I bite back a smile.

“Are you saying that because you like me in red, or is that actually true?”

“Both, and since you could only have worn that dress for me, I’m going to enjoy taking it off you.” He leans closer and plants a kiss on my neck. “I want you, Printsessa. We’ll stay for as long as we need to, then go.”

“Okay.” I nod, and we kiss briefly. It feels habitual— like lovers stealing moments to taste each other.

From the glint in his eyes, I wonder if he can read my mind.

He winks at me, and we start walking up the path toward the large wooden doors which are already open. Four guards stand on either side—four guards with machine guns.

The sight of which makes me think of the gun from my dream.

The guards greet us when we approach, and as we walk inside, we’re enveloped with soft classical music.

Lucca ushers me up a wide set of stairs that lead to a grand hall filled with people. Very elegant people.

Although I knew this was a black-tie event, and it would be sophisticated, I expected a room full of gangsters. I guess it is, though. They’re just dressed in their finest, and they have their women with them.

A quick scan of the place reveals that Dad isn’t here. I can see Damien, though. Ugh. He’s in the corner of the hall near the canape table with a blonde woman on his arm that looks half his age.

He clocks onto us as we walk in, and the look he gives me makes me cringe.

It’s awful to look at someone and know they wish you were dead or that they wish they could kill you.

Lucca gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and I groan inwardly as we make our way over to them.

“Damien,” Lucca says and dips his head in greeting.

I just look away and focus on the chocolate fountain on the opposite table.

“Moy syn,” Damien says, then they speak in Russian.

Whatever Damien says makes Lucca tug on my arm, and it’s then I look back at Damien and his woman.

He’s staring down at me like he’s expecting me to say something, and I realize that talk just now is because I was rude by not acknowledging him.

He wants me to do so now, and he’s not greeting me first. I stare him down with the same intensity he looks at me, and with every second that passes, my defiance only makes things worse.

Lucca clears his throat and gives me a stern look. That do as your told look, he doled out weeks ago. I would argue that he hasn’t told me to do anything, but I don’t want to embarrass him.

It wasn’t he who told me I would just be around for fucking, so I say the only thing I can think of that will sound more polite than fuck off.

“Good evening,” I mutter, and Damien’s lips thin.

“To you too.” He cuts Lucca the same stern look and looks him up and down. “Make sure you punish her for her insolence.”

Lucca doesn’t answer.

Damien, however, walks away, and the woman with him follows.

Lucca grabs my arm and pulls me closer. To anyone looking, we look like we’re embracing in a way, or he’s whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

“What the hell was that about?” he grates out. “You don’t want to make an enemy of Damien, Aria. I told you to behave yourself before we left the house.”

“Are you going to punish me? I didn’t exactly do anything.”

“Nobody tells me what to do besides those I give authority over me. Did something happen between the two of you I should know about?

When I turn my face, my cheek brushes over his stubble. “The last time he was at the house, he called me a little whore. He told me I was nothing and something to fuck when you get bored.”

“He did what?”

“Don’t make me repeat it. I don’t like that word. And because I’m not a damn whore, I hope you’ll forgive me for not wanting to greet him.”

He releases his grip on my arm and straightens. “If something like that happens again, you tell me about it.”

“What would you do? I’ve seen you with him. I know he’s important to you. He’s your foster father.”

“You are going to be my wife. Nobody talks to you like that.” He looks away from me and to the crowd where Damien is now talking and laughing with a man with a long white beard. “Come, let’s go over here.”

Lucca takes my hand again and leads me away. When we walk into the sea of bodies dancing, I realize he’s going to dance with me, and that’s exactly what we do. He slips an arm around my waist, and when I press my hand to his chest, I remember the last time we danced like this.

It was back at the club and how I fell into this trap.

We stare at each other as we sway to the music. The soft, gentle music that’s far too sensual.

“Is the Pakhan going to be at the wedding?” I ask, not really knowing what to say after that encounter.

“Yes.”

Marylin told me it was going to be a small wedding of twenty people. I only know who will be allowed to come from my side. Aside from guessing that Lucca’s staff at the house, Damien, and Jon will be there from Lucca’s side, I have no idea who else he invited.

“Is he nicer than Damien? I don’t know how many more assholes I can deal with.”

The side of his mouth turns up into a cocky smile. “You are one interesting woman, you know that?”

“Whatever, I’m being serious. Is he an asshole?”

“No, he’s not. He’ll have no reason to be that way with you because to him, the sun shines out of your father’s ass.”

Really?

God, there’s still so much I don’t know. And that’s the first mention of Dad in days. I decide to chance the question.

“Will Dad be here tonight?”

“No, he had other business to attend to. You’re not going to see him until the wedding, and after that, I can’t really say when.”

“It sounds like I won’t see him again after the wedding.”

“You might not. You can hate me all you want for that, but you will be my wife and therefore under my protection. I’m not allowing you to associate with anybody who’s dangerous. It’s important you understand that.” his voice sounds strong and firm. “You hear me, Aria?”

“I hear you.”

“Good, now dance with me.”

I rest my head on his chest and process what he just told me.

Process not seeing Dad ever again. He can’t mean that. He said might.

I haven’t forgotten what he told me about Dad, and I’m not in denial. Lucca has no reason to lie to me, so I believe him. I believe what he said was true.

It’s not hard to. Dad didn’t react at all when his guard was killed that day on the drive.

He didn’t even flinch. Whereas I was shaken, Dad looked like he’d seen that sort of thing happen all the time. His lack of remorse could only be so because he’s used to it. He was used to watching people die and being the one taking the life.

Lucca holds me closer but loosens his grip moments later when we stop dancing. He then lowers to my ear again and presses a firm hand to my bare back.

“The Pakhan and his son are coming our way. You need to behave.”

“Please stop talking to me like I’m a child,” I grate out. It’s irritating.

“I’m serious, Aria.” He looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “If you give him lip and he tells me to punish you, I’ll do it. Understand?”

“I understand.”

He guides me to move next to him, and I see two men approaching us from across the room. They look similar in stature, and there’s no mistake that they are father and son.

The older man walks with a slight limp and has cotton white hair, while the other man has dark blond hair with specks of gray in it.

The older man smiles proudly at both of us, and I feel the warmth in the welcome, but as they approach, and I look at his son, something odd happens to me when I gaze into his bright blue eyes.

My brain flip-flops, and everything running through my mind halts when I realize I’ve seen this man before. The flash of memory stabbing into my mind almost knocks me off my feet as the realization of where I’d seen him hits with full force.

I blink and try to focus on the blurry image as it clears itself in my mind’s eye, and I see him fully.

Him on top of me in my bed. Me screaming in that childlike voice and screaming for him to stop hurting me.

My God…

Is it him?

Is it?

I stumble as those eyes look at me, and although the image of his face flashes clear in my mind, I school my thoughts and my entire being.

Lucca slips an arm around me and leans in close.

“Are you okay?”

“No, can we go home?”

He cuts me a hard stare that softens instantly when he sees my face. “What’s the matter?”

I open my mouth to tell him, but it’s too late; they’re here.

“Lucca, look at you and your bride-to-be. This is the sort of magic the old live for,” the Pakhan says with warm pride reaching for him to give him a hug, then he kisses him on his cheek.

I’ve heard it's customary in Russia to greet each other like that. Very much like in Italy, but I think that was supposed to be the other way around because he’s the leader. It’s clear from his actions and the way he speaks and looks at Lucca that he values him as much as you would a son.

“Thank you, Pakhan. This is Aria De Marchi, my fiancée,” Lucca replies, and it sounds weird to hear him call me that. it’s even stranger to hear the words when my ears are ringing through the sound of my hammering heart. “Aria, this is our Pakhan, Grigori, and his son, Pasha.”

I keep my focus on Grigori. I can’t look at Pasha yet and see that memory. I can’t do it, or I might die.

Grigori’s smile widens when I put my hand out to shake his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He takes my hand and covers it with both of his. “You too, my dear, and I wish for you all the blessings and happiness your future awaits with one of my finest men.”

“Thank you so much, I appreciate that.” My voice quivers, and I can see Lucca staring at me; I can also sense he knows something is wrong.

I summon everything inside me to look at Pasha, who is eagerly awaiting my greeting.

All I want to do when our eyes lock is scream because of the images that now plague my mind.

Despite the host of memory that floods me, I put my hand out and feel like death has surely come for me when he touches me.

“It’s a wonderful pleasure to meet you. Lucca is like a brother to me,” Pasha says, looking at Lucca.

I glance at Lucca, who looks surprised to hear the compliment.

“Thank you, Pasha. I take that with the highest honor,” Lucca says with such appreciation it hits me that these men are more important than Damien.

“Of course.” Pasha releases my hand and dips his head instead.

What I witnessed whenever I saw Lucca speaking to Damien was nothing in comparison to this.

I recall what Sienna and Marylin told me about the Bratva. Both emphasized the degree of respect each member has for their leaders and the leaders for each other.

Lucca is part of the elite group, a leader himself. Yes, he would have worked hard to get there, but most of all, the close-knit unit of duty and loyalty exercised by these two men would have given him the position he now has.

So how can I tell him what my mind just revealed to me?

I’m not sure if I can even tell Dad.

Would either of them believe me?

I don’t even know if I believe myself.

Am I actually sure?

Sienna said I was kept out of the business, so this should be the very first time I’m meeting this man.

I study his face, summoning more courage than before to search those eyes and look him over. It takes mere seconds for me to be sure. He just looks older, but it’s him.

It is him, and realization just highlighted how much danger I could be in if I tell anyone.

Didn’t he tell me he'd kill my parents if I did?

Mom is dead now, and Dad walks a thin line. But I’m certain that threat will be amplified a hundred times over if I talk.

He might even have Lucca killed.

“Great to meet you,” I force the words in a small voice, and he smiles.

“Wonderful,” Grigori says. “Lucca, I have a gift for you. I hope your beautiful fiancée won’t mind if I steal you away for a minute. I’ll leave Pasha to watch her.”

No, please don’t do that.

When Lucca looks at me, I want to call out to him and beg him not to leave me, not even for a second with this man, but I stop myself.

“I’ll be back in a second,” he tells me, and I nod stiffly.

They walk away, and I force myself to look back at Pasha, wondering what he’ll be like with me now that Lucca is gone.

The expression on his face hasn’t changed. It’s neutral and gives no emotion away. It really is like we just met.

I’m trying to work this out in my mind. Dad works for them, so Pasha must know I lost my memories. So, then this is perfect for him. And he doesn’t look like he guessed I’ve remembered anything. Then again, this man is the Pakhan’s son. He’s not going to give himself away and show guilt, is he?

“I was so sorry to hear about your mother,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“Your father also made us aware that they nearly lost you too. Are you better?”

I wonder if he means to ask if I remember him.

“No,” I answer, knowing that is definitely the right answer. “I lost my memories of everything, and I’m just getting back on my feet.”

He almost looks genuine, almost looks like he’s sad to hear such a thing happened to me. But these are not nice people, and the longer I look at him, the more I’m sure it’s him.

“That’s truly terrible. I heard about that. I hope you get better soon.”

“Thank you.” I glance away to see if Lucca is coming, but he isn’t. I can’t stand here any longer and look at this man. “Would you mind terribly if I just went out on the balcony for some air?”

“Of course not. Are you okay?”

“It’s my head, and the room’s a little warm. I haven’t been around this many people in a while. It’s a little too much.”

“Go get some air. I’ll stay around here until Lucca gets back, so if you need me, call me.”

Thank God, he looks like he believes me.

When I move away, I try not to run and draw attention to myself.

There’s no one on the balcony, so I allow the shock to work its way through me, and I gulp the crisp night air hoping it will clear my mind.

It doesn’t, though. Instead, I feel hot and vile, and my head is so light I fear I might float away.

Pasha is the man from my nightmare, and I mean nightmare in every sense.

I was a child.

A young child.

He raped me.

How could my parents allow that to happen to me?

Wait… no, not parents.

Dad.

I don’t know if he knew what was happening to me, but Pasha would have only been at the house to see him.

As I stare at the dark expanse of trees on the grounds ahead of me, I think of myself back then.

I remember darkness just like this and being so afraid. I remember holding on to my little teddy Mom got me for Christmas.

I remember she went to Italy to visit our family there. That was the first time it happened.

The first time he hurt me. It’s the same memory from my nightmares.

Warm hands circle me pulling me close to a hard chest. I look up to see Lucca, and that’s when I realize I’m crying. Tears stream down my cheeks, and he pulls me in closer, closing the space between us.

“Printsessa, what happened?” he whispers.

I stare back at him, knowing without question I can’t tell him anything. And it’s for more reasons than the danger it might pose.

The honor he exhibited when he greeted Pasha and his father is everything, and I’m just collateral damage.

He’s not my Peter anymore. He’s no longer the boy of my dreams.

He’s Lucca Dyshekov, the Bratva assassin. The man with a vendetta against my father.

In the end, the past we shared will mean nothing. It already means nothing.

What makes me think he’d do anything to a man like Pasha for me?

“Can we just go home?” I mutter.

“Of course.”