A Vow Of Hate by Lylah James

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Killian

 

The ballroom bustled with voices and laughter. I’ve heard over a hundred congratulations in the last twenty minutes, followed by handshakes and stiff smiles. The curiosity flickered in their eyes, but I did what I was best at.

Eye contact was the easiest and most powerful way to establish yourself in a crowd of vultures and gossipers.

Deliberate eye contact made the other person nervous.

Steady eye contact put me in control – and that was exactly what I did. I dominated the ballroom with my gaze, unflinching, calm and contained. They’d smile shakily and look away first, yielding to me.

At a very young age, my father had taught me how to place myself into political circles and how to make them bend to me and for my advantage. That was exactly why the Spencers were now one of the most influential families in the United States. My father was about to leave a legacy behind, a responsibility that now fell on my shoulders.

A legacy I had to continue… and my heir would be expected to do the same.

Bringing the champagne flute to my lips, I took a slow sip and nodded along at what Senator Richard Machias was saying. He was talking about a recent division in the Senate that had put all the members in a difficult position.

Anything political was messy and chaotic. Some were spiteful and just plain nasty and then we had a bunch of them who just didn’t have any idea what the fuck they were doing.

“Killian–”

Richard said my name, but when the ballroom grew silent, buzzing with antsy energy, I instantly knew who had stolen everyone’s attention.

I looked over to the entrance of the ballroom and my eyes found her.

There was a breathless second.

It confused me.

The way my heart seemed to ache.

Or the way my stomach dipped at the familiarity of this very scene.

Before these uncalled emotions could take root, I shoved them away. Buried my feelings underneath my bones, because I’d rather not feel at all than feel too much.

Julianna Spencer walked in, her shoulders set straight, her chin nudged up as she regarded the room with a regal look, a confidence I had never seen before. But only I saw the slight quiver of her hands as she buried them in her sleeveless, floor-length dress.

Julianna wore a wine-red gown – with a sweetheart neckline that dipped dangerously too low. The satin bodice was a deeper color, cinched tightly around her waist in a corset style. The rest of the gown was flowy and heavy with multiple layers of tulles.

Her hair was put up in a simple bun, with a few stubborn curls framing her face. The heavy diamond choker around her neck gleamed under the chandeliers. But it wasn’t her bold choice of gown or the expensive stones around her throat that caught my attention.

It was the fact that Julianna had forgone her black veil.

In its place, she had what appeared to be a custom-made lace and feather masquerade mask. The left side of her face was covered completely with the mask, while the other half of her face – only the right side of her lips and her jaw could be seen.

Whispers filled the silence and Julianna took a shaky step forward. I placed my flute on the tray of a passing waiter and strode toward my wife, who clearly looked like she had been dumped in the middle of a warfare.

The moment I reached her, her hand snaked out quickly and her fingers circled around my elbow, practically leaning her body weight into me.

My brows furrowed when the top of her head reached my shoulders, instead of my chest. “Are you wearing heels, Julianna?” I asked slowly.

She gave me a jerky nod.

“Are you fucking serious?” I hissed. “I thought you couldn’t walk in heels because of your limp.”

“I can’t,” she breathed. “But I’ve been practicing for the last six days. I didn’t want to be found lacking by these people. And apparently, heels are the way to go when it came to masquerade balls and gowns.”

My arm curled around her waist. “For fuck’s sake. They’ll find a reason to talk, alright. When you faceplant on the floor and embarrass yourself.”

Her hand tightened around my elbow. “You won’t let me.”

No, I wouldn’t.

Because embarrassing herself meant embarrassing me.

I could feel the stares of the guests burning holes into my back. My head lowered and I placed a chaste kiss along the length of her unveiled jaw, her skin soft under my lips. “How do you expect to walk and dance in these heels?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Julianna let out a small nervous laugh. “But I trust you won’t allow me to embarrass myself. So, dear husband, good luck.”

“You. Are. Such. A. Maddening. Woman.”

The right corner of her lips curled up. “And so, I’ve been told.”

It was the first time I had seen Julianna without her veil. Granted the black mask covered most of her face, except the right side of her lips and jaw…

But it was still something.

Her lips were full and soft, painted a deep red. Familiar.

From my peripheral vision, I saw both my father and Bishop Romano watching me carefully. “Your father is here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Julianna?”

“Just give me a second.” She took a deep breath and released a shuddering exhale. “Okay, I’m good now. Let’s show them how good of an actor and actress we are.”

“Civil and in love,” I said.

“Civil and in love,” she whispered.

That moment in her bedroom had cleared the bridge between us. Julianna had been correct in everything she had said to me, practically spitting venom in my face and hitting me right where it fucking hurt.

It should have made me more enraged, but it only doused the fire coursing through my veins. Sure, I still hated Julianna. She was still to blame for Gracelynn’s death and that would never not to be true.

But for the first time in three years, someone other than Grace had looked into my soul and saw me for who I was.

How ironic that that woman turned out to be the reason why my heart was dead.

As much as I found vast differences between the two sisters, there were also too many similarities. How could two people be so different yet so alike?

It confused me.

It maddened me.

But insanity was just another word for tragedy. Because no insane lovers ever ended up with a happy ending.

And that was exactly my story – something half-written, left incomplete with the hopes that there would be a different ending in another lifetime.

Julianna and I couldn’t ever be together. Our marriage began as a contract, stained by Gracelynn’s blood and crumpled under my need for vengeance. We were poison and there was no antidote. We were too toxic together for us to be anything other than what we were now.

Husband and wife – in name only.

But at least we had found a middle-ground. Something we both agreed on.

An heir was needed.

And once that job was done, we would go our separate ways.

Until then, we would be… courteous.

Julianna

My fingers clenched around the curve of Killian’s elbow as he guided me around the ballroom. His long legs were taking shorter steps, purposely matching my own shaky ones. I leaned into his side, feeling the strength in his body and he took my weight without any complaint.

Killian introduced me to the guests, one by one. All the names became jumbled in my head, until all I was doing was nodding and smiling along. Playing the perfect Spencer wife. My cheeks were starting to ache, but never once did my smile waver.

Once we had made our introductions, Killian guided me toward the far end of the ballroom. Away from everyone. He grabbed a flute of champagne, handing it to me. Even through the simple black masquerade mask he wore, I saw the grim look in his dark eyes and his lips thinned. “How are your legs? You’re starting to limp more heavily.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he sounded like he cared. But I knew better, so I didn’t let his words deceive me.

“Shaky, but I’m okay.”

“Don’t lie,” he deadpanned. “You’ve practically been leaning all your weight on me.”

“And you didn’t let me fall,” I snapped quietly. “Thank you for your kindness, husband.”

His arm curled tighter around my waist. “Stop antagonizing me, Julianna. You know very well how that will end.”

My eyes darted toward three of the guests who were looking at us carefully, practically drinking in our postures and probably listening to what we were saying. Goddamn it. I hated these vultures. They were looking for something to gossip about.

I took a deep breath and smiled up at Killian. “You didn’t tell me how I looked this evening? Do you like the gown? It’s your favorite color.”

Killian’s gaze met mine, his dark eyes flaring in surprise. I watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. His head lowered, his cheek brushing against my mask. To someone else, this would have looked romantic and intimate.

“If your neckline was any lower, your nipples would be on display,” Killian rasped in my ear.

I asked for a compliment and I got a criticism instead. What else did I expect from my husband? Rolling my eyes, I dug my nails into the inside of his elbow. “That would be scandalizing, wouldn’t it?”

“All the more enticing.” I turned toward the voice that intruded our intimate exchange to find a man with dark hair, brown eyes, and a smirk on his lips. “I have to say, you look absolutely ravishing.”

“Watch it,” my husband growled.

“Oh, c’mon. I never took you for a territorial man, Killian. I’m just admiring your wife,” he drawled with a hint of a British accent.

“And you are?” I asked, eyeing him up and down. He was a big man, taller than Killian and with broader shoulders. But oh, his smirk was just as arrogant as my husband’s.

The man reached forward, and his hand practically engulfed mine – his brown skin, a stark contrast to my pale hand. He brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. His lips lingered there for a second too long. “Gabriel Evans,” he said, his voice thick and teasing. “An old friend of Killian’s and a business partner. He’s such a grump, isn’t he?”

I pressed my lips together, fighting back a laugh. “He’s a bit mad,” I agreed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel.”

He grinned. “The pleasure is all mine, Julianna.”

“Mrs. Spencer,” Killian barked. “Gabriel, a word with you.”

Killian stalked away and Gabriel winked at me. “Grump,” he mouthed before following after my husband.

I took a sip of my champagne, watching the guests mingle together, while I felt so out of place. I did come from a wealthy family – the daughter of Bishop Romano – but this was only my second time at such an event.

Tonight, I was the center of attention. But I wasn’t used to crowds, let alone a whole masquerade ball – where I was openly on display for these people to pick apart, to judge and to dig for my vulnerabilities.

My father striding over to me caught my eyes. He ate the distance between us with powerful legs. William Spencer quickly followed and I found myself surrounded by the two men, both of them standing tall in expensive suits and practically crackling with testosterone.

“Where’s Killian?” William asked, coming to stand beside me.

I nodded toward the other end of the ballroom. “He’s talking to Gabriel. I guess it’s something important.”

Father nodded, his eyes darting to the guests before coming to me again. “You’re doing well, Julianna.”

My chest tightened. “You think so?”

“I never doubted it for a second,” he praised, his voice softening considerably.

How long had I waited for my father to say such words? God, this was exactly what I had wanted to hear for many years and he had said it so nonchalantly. Like this wasn’t the first time he had praised me so openly.

The back of my eyes burned and I blinked away the tears. This wasn’t the place to get emotional. I had to be regal and confident. Posh and fake. The perfect Spencer wife.

“Your father was just telling me that you play the cello,” William said slowly.

I smiled shakily. “I’m not a professional, but I can play fine. It used to be a hobby of mine.”

Gracelynn was a better cello player than me. She had taught me what I know and after years of practice, I was still not as good as she had been.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Killian crossing the ballroom, coming straight for me. So powerful, so confident, so imposing.

His dark gaze locked me in place, even though I was unsteady on my feet.

My heart leaped at the sight of Killian – dressed in an all-black Armani suit, a black masquerade mask, stalking toward me with mad purpose.

My mouth went dry when he came to stand in front of me, towering over my much smaller figure. A commanding presence, with the perfect combination of eloquence and power. It was just the way he always had been – easily dominating me with a single dark gaze.

“Dance with me,” Killian said softly, to my surprise. My eyes darted to his out-stretched palm, waiting.

What a perfect façade.

A fake, happy marriage.

A handsome, loving husband asking his beloved wife for a dance.

Our first dance.

There was nothing sweet or romantic with the way he asked for the dance. It was only an obligation, I knew that.

My gaze found Killian’s father and he nodded, approvingly. The rest of the guests were waiting, with bated breath.

The tension around the ballroom made it almost impossible for me to breathe. I could taste the heavy silence on my tongue, bitter and cold, as everyone waited for my response. The red gown suddenly felt too tight, encasing me within its hold and trapping me without any escape.

The bodice pinched me, making the pressure on my chest feel heavier. I can’t breathe…

My eye twitched under my laced and feathered masquerade mask.

“Julianna,” he said, the tone of his voice dangerous. “Give me your hand.”

My face itched as I placed my palm in his waiting one.

Killian clasped my hand and gave me a hard tug. I gasped and skidded over the shiny floors, my heels catching the hem of my gown as I fell into his chest.

My breath stuttered.

He hissed, as if my touch burned him.

“Julianna,” Killian breathed in my ear. There was a warning in the way he said my name.

“Killian.” My voice wavered before I snapped my jaw close.

“May this be our first… and last dance, wife.”

My heart pounded in my ears, my body growing cold – but I smiled and nodded. “Shall we?” I whispered.

Killian guided us to the center of the ballroom. He tugged me closer, our chests almost touching. I could feel the guests’ eyes on us, watching us carefully. Killian’s arm curled around my waist, his palm pressing into my lower back – his fingers brushing over the curve of my ass. I brought my hand to his shoulder, feeling the muscle tense under my fingertips.

“I assume you know how to waltz, wife.”

“I do,” I breathed. “A bit.”

“I won’t let you fall,” Killian whispered as the orchestra started to play.

We began to waltz, our feet moving to the slow, rhythmic music. Killian guided me, holding my hand firmly in his. We glided over the floor, spinning around the ballroom. I barely noticed the other couples joining us. When the music changed and our paces quickened, I let out a barely audible gasp, my feet now unsteady underneath me.

My dress got in the way and I grew clumsier in my heels, slightly stumbling into Killian. His eyes narrowed on me when he noticed my discomfort. The palm resting against my lower back pulled me closer and I released a shuddering breath the moment our chests touched.

My nipples puckered and I released an involuntary shudder when his warmth surrounded me, his spicy scent filling my nose – so wickedly intoxicating.

“Lean into me,” Killian rasped in my ear. “I have you.”

He changed his stance and his pace slowed down, making it easier for me to match his rhythm. Killian spun me around once, before tugging me back into his body. We flowed into the dance; our bodies locked together in what would seem like something intimate to an outsider.

“Have you found a suspect yet?” I asked.

To take my mind off this – how wonderful Killian felt against my body, how warm he was, how good he smelled or how much I wanted this moment to be real and not a ruse.

Killian Spencer was addictive and I was a willing victim.

His hatred for me, his unadulterated rage – I welcomed everything with open arms while I silently begged for more – his adoration and his devotion.

But I had long accepted my defeat.

Killian shook his head, bringing me out of my dreadful thoughts. “No. Our investigations have led to more dead ends. Samuel says it’s possible the maid acted alone. We have no other evidence.”

“A deranged maid? That’s what we are labeling this attack?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound very convinced,” I muttered, watching the way his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Killian’s jaw tightened. “I’ve doubled the security and they are all vigilant. You’ll be safe here on the island; I’ve made sure of it.”

Maybe I was truly foolish for believing him, but I trusted Killian. After all, he needed me alive to fulfill my end of the contract.

“Does your father know?”

His hand squeezed mine. “No. Yours?”

“No. It’s better this way.”

“I agree.”

My lips twitched with a smile. “We finally agree on something.”

Killian didn’t respond. Not that I expected him to. True, since the day in my bedroom, Killian had been civil with me. There were times when I had expected him to snap, but with his father’s shadow following us, keeping a careful eye on us – we had no choice but to act like the perfect married couple.

Killian and I had come to an unspoken understanding.

Civil and in love.

Until the end of our contract.