Page 5 of Brutal Vows

“You took that better than I expected. Brave girl. So that’s the bad news. The good news is that if I don’t approve of his choice, the contract will be canceled.”

She closes her eyes, exhales, and says faintly, “Holy fucking buckets of cat shit.”

“Very creative. Anything else?”

She opens her eyes and stares at me in panic, clutching my hands so hard, it hurts. “I don’t want to get married,zia.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re sane.”

Her voice rises. “No, I mean, Ican’tget married!”

She pulls away from me, crossing the room to stand defiantly in front of the big wooden wardrobe near her bed.

The thing is huge, a floor-to-ceiling antique made of shiny carved mahogany. It’s always reminded me of the magical wardrobe fromThe Chronicles of Narniathat can transport a person to a land of talking animals and mythical creatures.

She props her hands on her hips and declares passionately, “I’d rather die than marry a man I don’t love!”

From inside the wardrobe comes a distinct thud, as if a body just fell to the floor.

Afterward, there’s silence.

I stare at my niece. She stares right back at me, her normally sweet brown eyes on fire with defiance.

I say calmly, “Lili?”

“Yes?”

“What was that noise?”

She lifts her chin and folds her arms over her chest. “What noise?”

I look at her mussed hair, her untucked shirt, her bare feet, and her rebellious expression, and know in my bones that we have a big fucking problem.

I cross the room in several long strides, headed to the wardrobe.

Lili tries to stop me, jumping in front of the wardrobe doors and pleading, but I push her aside and yank open the door.

And come face-to-face with the young man standing inside.

Hidinginside, between a mink coat and a beaded evening gown, shrinking back as far as he can against the back wall.

He’s good-looking, I’ll give her that. With liquid brown eyes, full lips, and a chest that could be featured on magazine covers, the boy is undeniably attractive.

He’s wearing nothing but a pair of tight white briefs, through which his erection is clearly visible.

He can’t be more than eighteen.

I slowly close the wardrobe door. Then I turn back to Lili.

She stands with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pulled between her teeth, her shoulders rounded. If she had a tail, it would be tucked between her legs.

I say quietly, “You know what would happen if your father discovered this.”

She doesn’t bother with lame denials. She simply nods.

But it has to be said aloud. Things gain a certain gravitas when they’re spoken.

“He would kill him, Lili. Whoever he is, the boy standing in this wardrobe would die. Slowly. Painfully. And most likely, you’d be made to watch.”