Merciless Vows by Faith Summers

7

Aria

“Wait for me,” I call out, giggling as I run through the tall grass in the field.

I run as fast as my legs can carry me, and I’m answered with laughter that instantly fills me with happiness.

The radiant sun beams down before me, and in the bright light, I see him.

Peter.

His wild brown hair billows in the wind, and those misty gray eyes sparkle with life as he races ahead of me toward the lake.

“Told you, your legs are too little to catch up with me,” he shouts back.

I run faster when he starts laughing harder. I agree my legs are little in comparison to his. But I’m nine, and he’s twelve. I’m short, and he’s a giant.

My giant.

The silver-eyed boy who always takes me to our very own Neverland.

“Peter, that’s not fair.” I wince.

“Why isn’t it fair, Aria? Run faster.”

“I’m trying.” I start to pant. “Please don’t leave me.”

In my words, he stops by the great oak tree with the scary-looking leaves. It always reminds me of the trees in the book about the enchanted woods Mama got me.

He jogs back to me and crouches down so I can get on his back.

“Come on, and I’ll give you a ride. We have to be quick, or we won’t see them.”

I get on his back, securing my hands around his neck, and I rest my head against his.

He touches my arm and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. When he does things like that, sometimes I wonder if he knows—if he knows how I feel about him.

.

I think he does.

He straightens up then starts running with me. We go into the woods, and I see an old barn ahead of us.

“Are they in here?” I ask.

“Yes.”

He sets me down when we get up to the grand wooden doors. I watch as he slides them open, and then I see the large metal cage with the birds inside. Birds I’ve never seen before.

There are five of them, each sitting on wooden stumps.

They’re quite big with blue-gray wings, dark brown backs, and white faces that have a black stripe across their cheeks. Their beaks are hooked, and their talons fierce.

Peter looks at them with fascination.

“What are they?”

“Peregrine falcons. Father uses them for hunting. Let’s take a closer look.” He walks into the cage, and I get wary.

When he puts out his arm, the biggest one jumps onto his hand like it was trained to do that. When it opens its wings, I step back.

Peter comes out of the cage with it, and I bring my hands together nervously.

“Come closer,” he beckons.

“I’m a little scared.”

“I will never let anything happen to you.”

I believe him, so I walk closer.

“Go on stroke his head. He won’t bite.” He lowers the falcon so I can stroke the soft feathers on its head, and it allows me to.

I smile then look up at Peter, who’s already watching me. “Well done.”

He lifts his hand, and the falcon stretches its wings wider.

“Uspoykoysya,” he mutters, and the bird takes off.

“What did you say to it?”

“Calm down. It’s a language we speak to them, and they listen. Aria, it’s getting dark. We have to say goodbye now.”

“No. Don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.”

My eyes fly open, and I find myself staring at a very cautious-looking Marylin standing before me.

I look about and see it’s a bright morning. It’s then I realize I fell asleep outside on the porch, and … Lucca didn’t come for me.

Later never came.

“Are you okay, dear?” she asks, bringing her hands together, and I see the large Manilla envelope she’s carrying.

“Yes. I was just dreaming.”

About Peter.

My dreams are usually similar to the flashes of memory I get when I’m awake.

But when I see clear, distinct images, the dream is always the same, with the same person.

The same boy.

Peter.

When the dreams started, I told my father, hoping maybe I must have been remembering a childhood friend, but it wasn't that. It turned out Peter is someone my mind made up.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep out here,” I apologize when she continues to watch me.

“No need to apologize. My only worry is that you couldn’t have been very comfortable.”

“I don’t think I noticed that much.” Or cared, obviously. Last night I must have been so distressed I didn’t think about where I was.

I was worried about what it was going to be like when Lucca came in and made good on his promise to fuck me. My heart still squeezes at the thought.

Just because it didn’t happen last night doesn’t mean it won’t tonight. It won’t matter when he plans to do it. What matters is that it’s going to happen.

“Well, there are a few things I have for you. Your clothes and other items should be arriving between today and tomorrow, but I got you some clothes at the store last night.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s just a few casual bits to wear while you’re waiting. I also brought some breakfast, and I have this.” She holds out the envelope to me, and I stand before taking it.

“What is that?”

“Lucca said you’d understand when you see what’s inside.” She nods

“Is he here?”

“Yes, He’s gone for his morning swim.”

Morning swim?Of course. A man like that probably swims with sharks.

“Oh.”

“I’ll allow you to eat breakfast and have some time to yourself to read the documents. Lucca’s asked me to give you a tour of the estate, so I thought we could do that in an hour. Is that okay with you?”

It’s nice to be asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I’m surprised when she reaches forward and gives my hand a gentle squeeze as if to reassure me.

“I’ll see you then.” She saunters away, and I watch her go.

Because I’m curious to see what’s inside the envelope, I decide to deal with that first.

I walk back into the bedroom, and when I open the envelope and see what’s inside, I straighten up instantly.

The first document I pull out is titled Company Transfer Agreement.

It’s stapled together and looks like it has several pages attached.

My God, this is it. The details of my ownership of the company. I move over to the bed, plant myself down on the silky sheets, and lay the documents before me so I can look over them properly.

This company transfer agreement is effective on the 19th of July 2018. Between Teresa Marie De Marchi and Aria Teresa De Marchi.

Those are the details under the heading of the document. I continue reading and see where the complete transfer of Cervantes will become effective on my twenty-fifth birthday.

When I see Mom’s signature, something fills my heart.

I look at the next document and see the terms listed for an irrevocable living trust. I don't think I would have heard of something like that, even when I had all my memories.

There are more details on that document of the company transfer to me.

As I look at it, that feeling that things are not quite right, or as I've been told, come back to haunt me.

Both documents feel like the result of something else. While I can’t remember my mother, holding these documents makes me feel like she went through a lot of trouble so that I would get the company, and it would be irrevocable.

Something that can't be revoked.

I would have thought the company transfer document would have been enough. But she made sure the company was mine through this trust. Like she thought someone else would change the ownership.

The only person I can think of who could do that is Dad.

But what would be so wrong with him doing so?

When I look at the trust document and see the clauses of marriage, Lucca infiltrates my mind.

On marriage, the company ownership becomes shared with my spouse unless excluded by a prenuptial agreement.

That’s what Lucca is using to have me and my family's legacy.

I don’t know what to make of this. Something about it doesn’t feel right, and I don’t feel right allowing Lucca to take my family’s business away from me.

Mom, what were you thinking?

What made you do this?

She could have given it to my aunts or one of their husbands.

Why me?

* * *

“Let’s start with the courtyard and make our way around. The roses are the most beautiful thing about this place,” Marylin states with a twinkle in her eyes.

“They are beautiful,” I agree and adjust the little skirt she bought me. She got the size right. It’s just that there’s a ribbon on the side that keeps coming undone.

When we walk down to the courtyard, Marylin glances admiringly at the row of roses to our left, and I wonder if it was her who planted them.

“Do you tend to the roses here?” I ask, deciding to be friendly, although I couldn’t feel more awkward.

“In a way, yes, but there are professional gardeners who take care of them. I just oversee what happens. The only thing Lucca’s mother wanted after she died was for her roses to be taken care of. If the estate is sold, there’s a clause in there to make sure the roses get looked after.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She was always fascinated with roses. Always red roses. Lucca’s father grew them for her, and they covered this courtyard with a sea of roses as a symbol of their love.”

It’s hard to believe such romance existed in Lucca’s family when he is the way he is. I can’t imagine him having a romantic bone in his body. Of course, I’m not going to say that to her.

“That’s beautiful,” I say instead.

“There was also another reason for the roses. It was to remember their fallen ones in Russia. That’s why it’s called the Court of Blood and Thorns.”

As she says that, I feel that eerie vibe that came over me yesterday when I looked at the roses.

The name is fitting as I look at the deep red of each rose, I can see precisely the reason for the name.

“It’s like blood covering the thorns of the rose bush.”

“Yes. It is. They were very sentimental.” She speaks with pride.

I don’t understand it, though, because I don’t know how anybody could feel that way about people like Lucca.

I hold off on asking too many questions and decide instead to listen as she points certain things out. It’s going to be an advantage to know my surroundings. If I’m allowed to roam the premises freely, I can find somewhere to go during the day, so I don’t have to see anybody.

It takes us half an hour to walk around the courtyard, and then she shows me the little cottage by the lake where she lives. It’s very quaint and suits her.

We make our way back to the archway that leads to the opposite side of the house, and it’s endless. I’m surprised to see another garden and a woodland area.

She takes me to the Olympic-sized swimming pool where parties are sometimes held.

We come to a stop near a wall of Ivy. At the end of the wall is a large wooden door. Marylin points to it.

“That’s the only section you aren’t allowed in,” she says to my surprise.

“What? I’m not allowed?” My brows knit together.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t want anyone going in there.”

“What’s in there?”

“I can’t tell you.”

That’s absurd. “So I’m supposed to marry this man, and there’s a whole section of the house we live in that I can’t go in?” I wonder if she can hear how ridiculous that sounds.

“I’m sorry dear, yes that’s true. I’m not allowed in there either. It’s just the way he likes to keep it. He tends to that section himself, as well as his private quarters.” She points to another section linked to the atrium of the house. “That’s the outside entrance.”

It’s another stony archway similar to the ones in the courtyard.

“Am I not allowed in there either?” What would he be doing in his private quarters?

Does he see women there? Most likely, or it wouldn’t be private.

Would I care if he did?

I don’t even know. Everything is all wrong, so why would I expect anything different from him when it came to that.

“You are allowed in there, but enter at your own risk.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile, and I don’t know what to make of what she means. “Let’s do the interior, and I’ll leave you to roam around by yourself to get used to the place.”

“Okay, thanks.”

She leads me away from the forbidden section of the house, but I can’t help but look back, wondering what’s over the wall.

The interior of the house takes close to an hour to go through, and surprise, surprise, there are parts of the house Lucca would prefer I didn’t go to just yet, so she doesn’t bother to show me those places.

Everything else feels like I’m touring a museum. She talks about the paintings on the walls, the grand halls, and what they were used for back in the day.

Finally, she finishes downstairs in the library, where I’m told I can take books to read whenever I want.

It’s nearly lunchtime when we’re done, so she goes off to cook, and I go back outside to roam.

I find myself roaming right back to the forbidden section and decide not to test the powers that be. But I don’t mind entering the private quarters at my own risk.

Admittedly, I’m curious, and I also want to talk to him. I want to find out more about what’s happening.

I imagined Dad signing over guardianship, and I want to know if it’s happened yet and what I’m supposed to expect. Marylin said Lucca was here, but I didn’t see him on our tour. I don’t know if that meant he might have left, or he’s over here.

I’m about to find out.

I walk through the archway and proceed down a path with a neatly cut hedge. When I get to the end of the hedge, I hear splashes of water.

I step onto a stone path and see another swimming pool. This one is smaller than the one I’d previously seen, and the other difference is that it has Lucca doing laps inside it.

Earlier, Marylin told me he was doing his morning swim, but that was hours ago. Has he been swimming for that whole time?

I stop by the wall and watch him slice through the water with his powerful tattooed arms.

His sleek, resilient body dominates the water with every stroke as he freestyles from one end of the pool to the other.

I feel like I shouldn’t be watching him, but I need to speak to him.

Either he sees me or senses my presence, but he slows his strokes when he gets closer to the end of the pool. He stops swimming and makes his assent out of the water.

At that moment, I fully understand why Marylin told me to enter at my own risk.

I watch Lucca’s tattooed back rise from the water first, covered in Russian letters and Roman numerals. When I see the rock-hard contours of his ass, it’s too late to shield my eyes from his nakedness.

When he turns to the side to walk over to the deck chair, my mouth drops when my eyes land on his massive cock bobbling between his legs.

Jesus, why the hell did I come down here? And why can’t I look away?

His cock is long and thick, and erect. Very erect.

I don’t have any memories of seeing a naked man. This is my first, and it’s one memory that will never go away.

No accident could erase the sight of him from my mind.

“You can come and take a closer look if you want,” he suddenly says against the silence.

I can already feel my cheeks burning, and as he turns to face me to give me a full-frontal view, I try to hide my embarrassment and the fact that I’m still looking at his cock, and him, taking in the perfection he is.

My eyes roam over more tattoos inked into his skin. I’ve never seen anyone with so many. Two medieval crosses cover his defined pecs, and more Celtic swirls line the peaks and valleys of his abdominal muscles.

Swallowing hard, I blink so I can stop gawking and try to focus so I can answer the question.

“No,” I grate out.

“You could certainly fool a man with those types of looks, Printsessa. I almost believe I should be the one worrying about you fucking me. Just so you know, that will never be a problem, and I wouldn’t say no to a hand job or a blow job either.”

Asshole.What a fucking jerk.

My temper rises. He’s screwing with me—or maybe not—either way, I need to act like he doesn’t affect me at all.

“Trust me, you don’t have to worry about any of those things. You can go fuck yourself.”

He laughs like I just told a joke. The sound, though, does something to me that feels familiar again.

“What a shame, Printsessa.” He reaches for the towel on the chair and wraps it around his bottom half. Then he stalks closer, and every muscle in my body goes rigid when he stops a breath away. The sunlight catches his eyes, making the stormy gray pools look lighter, and as I gaze into them, I get that feeling again like there’s something I should know. “You wanted something?”

I school my thoughts and sharpen my gaze. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“I told you yesterday.”

“You gave me the Cliff Notes version of shit. I have one main question today.” I sound braver than I feel. I’m still frightened of him, and I’m sure he knows that. I’m just refusing to welter like a malnourished flower under his scrutiny.

“And what question is that, Printsessa?”

“Is my father really going to sign over his legal guardianship to you?” I hate the quiver in my voice.

“He already has,” he answers smugly with a cocky smirk.

I was told it was going to happen, so the confirmation that it has shouldn’t feel like a punch to the gut.

“Has he…” The words fall from my lips mindlessly as my brain tries to accept what I’m being told.

That it happened, Dad did it. He signed me away.

“I own you now, Printsessa.”

Defeat fills me once again, but this time it feels like an ounce of lead just dropped in the pit of my stomach.

“Well, I suppose you’re proud of yourself. You did whatever you were supposed to do to him, and me too. I wonder what I did to deserve this. I’m little more than an animal here.”

There’s little point saying anything more. It won’t change anything.

I start to walk away, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back.

“You need to get used to your new life now, Aria.”

“I don’t need to do anything. You are despicable. Let go of me.” I wrench my arm free, and this time he allows me to leave.

I rush away, wishing I could run.

Run away from everything and everyone because nothing matters when you can’t remember who you used to trust.