Vow of Hell by Clara Elroy

Ariadne

Irefreshed the local news channel website on my phone, checking for any updates like I’d done every day since Harry shot at me. The fact that the asshole was still roaming around free didn’t sit well with me. He had a whole ass vendetta against me, and I had a family to protect. He was unpredictable, and I wouldn’t put it past him to go after my loved ones.

Sighing, I grabbed the toy from Nyx’s mouth, cocking my arm, and released, watching the black Doberman sprint toward the edge of Saint’s property. I wished the cops were as fast when it came to making an arrest.

I did my research when it came to Harry’s criminal record, and through an online database found out he was charged for drug possession and distribution. I wasn’t all that surprised when the hacker informed me that he was selling again—online this time, on a marketplace called the silk road, an onion site on the Tor browser. I paid him extra to expose Harry’s IP address, so the authorities caught up to his tracks.

Waiting was like seating on burning coals.

I was fucking terrified of what he would do so long as he was free, but shame made my throat bunch up whenever I tried to talk to someone about what happened.

I was surrounding myself as much as I could with friends and family. I despised the tug of war my emotions played when I was alone. It led me down the road of mild panic attacks that kept getting progressively worse. I knew I had to speak to someone eventually, yet I kept prolonging it.

Things were going so well with Saint, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that—us—with my questionable choices in past relationships.

“Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever broken this much of a sweat before.” Irena captured my attention, running back to me with Erebus zooming in front of her.

It was long overdue, bringing her here, and I honestly didn’t know how she tolerated me sometimes. If there was a rate your sister scale, I’d be on the lower end of the spectrum. I was rectifying that, though, and had even started attending a few skating classes with her. My bum bore the brunt of that decision.

“Makes sense, the only type of exercise you get is on the ice.” I threw another stick, diverting Erebus’s playfulness to Nyx, and they ran around the open grass space together.

“Maybe I should get a dog too.”

I scoffed, walking next to her as we made our way to an artificial pond in the garden. “Yeah, good luck convincing Mom to get you one. She’s a germaphobe.”

Irena flipped her auburn ponytail over her shoulder, the pout of her lips more pronounced. “No one ever understands the pain of kids that grow up without pets.”

“Such a tragic way of living.”

She ignored the sarcasm in my voice, kicking a stone into the water. “Where’s your blond hunk?”

“He said he was stopping by his parent’s place to say hi to Kill.”

“Oh, Killian’s in town again?” Irena chirped. “Wasn’t he here like two months ago? Makes me wonder if he has any friends in California.”

“From what I’ve seen online, he leads quite the busy life as every other college student.” Parties, girls, random tattoos, ambiguous art. Killian was the dark and moody type. “Also, there’s nothing wrong with him visiting often. I would certainly hope you’d come home just as much if you go to an out-of-state college.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. My skin can’t handle all that traveling.” She soothed her temples with her fingers. “So, how come you’re not with him? Not mixing well with the in-laws?”

“They’re nice, however, it’s a little bit awkward. His mom doesn’t like me much.”

It was my turn to kick a stone, and we both watched it skip over the surface of the pond. I didn’t blame her, and at least she tried to be nice when she was in my presence. I preferred it when people weren't rude to my face.

“Oh well, who needs them anyway?" Irena pushed me closer until she had my head on the crook of her neck, and I wrapped my arms around her. "If a woman can’t move on after years have passed, then there’s something wrong with her. You don’t need that kind of negative energy in your life.”

I nodded against her chest. If anyone saw us right now, they would never believe I was the older sister. “Although no one touches Mom and Dad’s relationship, I do feel bad for Celia sometimes. It was a pretty brutal rejection.”

She'd become a bit of a meme when a news article resurfaced recently, and the internet was a vicious place. I half-wished she didn't know how to operate social media.

“Yeah, Dad was a little bit of an asshole back then, huh?” Irena exhaled. “I don’t get the obsession girls have with ‘alpha males’. I’m gonna get me a cute beta that respects me.”

"I think it's that adrenaline rush you get when—" I started explaining, but shut up. A cute beta was perfect for Irena, I wanted her to stay as far away from assholes who wouldn't hesitate to put your heart through a meat grinder as possible.

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t want to come work for us? I mean, you also have a stake in the company. It’s yours as much as it is mine.” Saint dropped a kiss on the crown of my head, folding my body into his from behind.

The venue of my launch party was almost empty. The last of the people that remained, mingled with each other. Mostly my family and the employees that worked tirelessly to bring my vision to light. I made sure to give my PA, Alice a huge bonus because without her I would’ve probably drowned in a sea of responsibilities.

My first drop sold out in under a few minutes, and everything was going well. Too well. I was excited for all of it. Every day I checked off another steppingstone in my life, but there was this coiling anxiety that hung over my head like a grim reaper’s scythe. I went ham on security, and you could see men with black suits scattered amidst the army of caterers and standing in front of light pink walls imprinted with my brand logo—peach spiders.

I twisted around, sounds of fluttering wings filling my ears and giddiness spreading like a balm, knowing that he followed me to the balcony. “Nah, have you heard what happens to couples that work at the same place?”

“Yeah, you’re right. You’d be too much of a distraction.” He dropped a kiss to my forehead, and I closed my eyes, holding on to the lapels of his suit.

Every day I sank more and more into Saint’s ocean. He was the first person I saw every morning and the last every night. Married life suited us, despite our initial rebellion. Scrutiny was replaced with open fascination when we attended events together now. And even though offers from other women kept pouring in as if Saint was still single, he didn’t show an ounce of interest, stealing throughout kisses in shadowed corners of public places because he couldn’t wait until we got home.

My lungs filled with every drop of him. I just hoped that he wouldn’t leave me to drown in two months' time. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. I didn’t think I ever would be. Saint wasn’t an addiction you could kick. He was turning out to be my whole world, the only one my heart swelled up for. My misunderstood man, hiding a heart of gold under all the articles that tried to bury him.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” I giggled when he kissed my neck.

“You realize I’m sleeping with the competition, right?” His bottom teeth scraped over my skin, and I pulled his head back, holding it hostage in my hands. My family could see us, and I could feel my mom’s eyes rubbing over me, leaving an essence of an I told you so behind as they went.

“Oh, I’m no competition, just a tiny brand amidst a sea of thousands.” I worried my lip, glancing down at his chest. “About fifty percent of small businesses fail within the first five years, so who knows, maybe I’ll take you up on your offer after all.”

“No you won’t,” he said, his tone wooden. “I won’t let you.”

My stare turned into a glare. “All of a sudden, I’m liking the idea of working at Falco and Fleur more and more.”

His fingers squeezed my waist, and he fought against a laugh. “I won’t let you because it would be sad to give all of this up, little fire. You have a genuine passion for design, sure, but you also built something from scratch, and not a lot of people in that room can say that, not even me. It takes a lot of drive and determination to open your own business, and when it’s something you love, it would only fail if it lacked support. And no matter where we are in the future, one thing I can promise you, if you need me, I’ll always be of help because you’ve earned my respect as an artist and as a fucking boss.”

He cocked his head as if to say, you got that?

The thing was, I got more than that.

The cotton candy clouds that floated around my brain evaporated in a mist of painful truths. Saint Astor had managed to color himself outside the lines I’d drawn around him, dripping ink into my soul and hooking himself in deep until I couldn’t think of anything else except how much I loved how he made me feel.

Powerful.

Beautiful.

Smart.

Worthy.

I loved him and everything that came with him. His rough edges sent my brain spiraling to understand him better. His dirty mouth had me melting in a puddle every time he uttered his filth when he was deep inside me. His sharp mind that he offered up willingly when I needed help.

Everything. Everything. Everything.

I fell hard and fast with no option of returning back to the land of dreams and thinking a year was enough to spend with a man like Saint. I wanted a lifetime, and I would do my damned best to get it because I knew he wanted me to, but something was holding him back. Something I would get him to open up about, eventually.

“God, I—” My mouth was miles ahead of my mind, but I caught my impulsivity and dragged her back by the hair. Saint wasn’t ready for that yet. “I want to kiss you,” I rectified, my chest heaving as if I’d run a marathon.

He gave me that cocky, self-assured smirk of his. “Yeah, I tend to inspire that need in women.”

“If you kiss any other women, I’ll cut off your balls while you’re sleeping, Sainty.” I tightened my hands on his jacket and brought myself to my tippy toes, goosebumps spreading like fire on my skin when his minty breath fanned my face.

“Same goes to you, Spitfire with other men.”

“I don’t have balls.”

“But you have boobs.” He raised an eyebrow.

I cupped an arm protectively around my chest, an incredulous laugh escaping me. “My girls are hurt.”

Saint leaned down and licked along the seam of my mouth, getting me to open up. “I’ll kiss them better tonight,” he growled against my lips, and family and guests be damned, I let him make out with me where everyone could see, realizing that as always a mother knows best.

Mama Lydia’s intentions weren’t pure, nevertheless, if it wasn’t for her, and surprisingly my rigid grandmother, I wouldn’t be experiencing this whirlwind of love and high life so young—maybe never.

I hugged him close when we came out for air, both of us looking inside the double doors. Dad was swirling mom on the dance floor, my creative team was showing off pictures of the designs pinned to the wall to the other guests, and Killian—the only member of Saint’s family that bothered to show up—was talking with Irena, sparkly liquid on their hands that most likely contained alcohol and would have my dad up in arms if he saw.

She didn’t make a move to drink it, simply talked animatedly to Killian who had his full attention on her, and it made me wonder what the hell they were talking about that was so interesting.

“Your brother seems to be getting awfully close to my sister,” I told Saint, letting the rise and fall of his chest lull some of the night’s chaos off me.

“You should be glad they’re getting along, unlike the rest of our families.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I rubbed my cheek further into his shirt. “It’s ironic that they’re the ones that pushed for this.”

“Money brings people together, Spitfire. The synergy between Falco and Fleur was apparent even to casual observers. There is a very big buzz surrounding future collections. The spotlight will most definitely be on us for the next few seasons.”

“Are you feeling the pressure?”

“Your dad has surprisingly been a huge help.”

“My dad’s super professional. I remember when I was interning at Fleur, he wouldn’t let me call him dad.”

His head bobbed over mine as if he was in complete agreement with that attitude. “Trust me, that’s better than dealing with temper tantrums.”

Whatever it was he wasn’t telling me, I knew it had to do with his dad. He never talked about Noah, and even when he did, Saint had this look of apathy on his face that broke my heart. But he would open up. I just needed to strike when his defenses were down.