Page 10 of Darkest Oblivion (Doomed Vows #1)
PENELOPE
I leaned forward, fork clenched, and said to the behemoth butler, “I’m sure you have a name.”
“Giovanni,” he replied, smooth, his crooked nose catching the light.
I smirked, masking exhaustion with defiance. “How do I pronounce that properly, without messing it up? Gee-oh-VAHN? Or is it Jee-oh-van-nee?”
“That’s not quite noble,” he shot back, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“And how noble is it to sneak into my car and drag me to a dock where I could’ve been killed?” I snapped, heart hammering at the memory of that day
Giovanni’s smirk didn’t waver. “Enjoy your food, ma’am. If you need anything, dial 100 on any house phone, and I’ll be at your service.” He paused, gaze mocking. “Including a tour around the lake.”
He gave a slight, theatrical bow, and walked away, leaving me fuming.
“What a show-off,” I muttered under my breath.
Polite now because I’m his boss’s wife? What a joke.
I stabbed at the fusilli, its sauce vibrant and tangy, and took a bite.
Damn him—it was delicious. Perfectly spiced, the lobster risotto melting on my tongue, the tiramisu rich with espresso and cream. Each bite a masterpiece, infuriating me further. How dare Giovanni, this smug brute, be so damn good?
I ate until my stomach finally quieted.
Exhausted, I pushed away from the table, my body heavy but my mind defiant.
No way was I sleeping in Dmitri’s room—his hickey and Seraphina’s name a fresh wound.
The living room’s velvet couch looked inviting enough, its cushions soft beneath the chandelier’s glow. I sank into it, limbs aching.
Maybe tomorrow I’d beg Dmitri to let me call my family—if he’d even listen. For now, sleep was my only escape. I curled up, letting the couch cradle me, letting my thoughts blur.
A sudden tightness gripped my chest, my lungs seizing, the air thick as tar.
My eyes snapped open, panic surging as I realized I couldn’t breathe—a rare, terrifying attack.
I stumbled upright, swaying, reaching for my back pocket, fingers closing around my inhaler.
Relief flickered—how had it gotten there? I usually tucked it in my jeans, but in this house, I hadn’t thought.
Before I could use it, a hand snatched it away—swift, cruel. My vision blurred. Dmitri stood before me, icy blue eyes gleaming like a devil’s, his scarred jaw set in a sneer.
“What... I’m...” I gasped, desperate, hands clawing at the air. “Please, give me—”
He smirked, cruel, holding the inhaler just out of reach. “No. I want to watch you gasp.”
I lunged, fingers grazing it, but he stepped back, towering over me. I collapsed to my knees, marble biting into my skin, chest burning.
“Please...” I wheezed, voice fading. “Please... I don’t want to die.” My eyes locked on his, pleading.
“No, Penelope,” he said, voice venomous. “I want you dead.”
I reached again, vision darkening, the shadow of death closing in, our gazes locked in a silent war—until my eyes snapped open.
Gasping, I sat upright on the couch, chest heaving, lungs flooding with air.
It had been a nightmare so vivid my skin still tingled with fear. Dmitri stood beside me, his real presence no less menacing, tattoos peeking from his sleeves.
My heart raced, and I scrambled back, pressing against the couch’s armrest.
“You wanted me dead,” I whispered, voice trembling, hands shaking. “You snatched my inhaler and...”
“Stop talking nonsense, Penelope,” he cut in, sharp, eyes narrowing as he moved to the table, placing my inhaler with a deliberate clink.
“You forgot to take it with you. I stocked plenty in your wardrobe.” He paused, gaze cold but steady.
“I’ve arranged for an asthma specialist to check you tomorrow morning. ”
I stared at the inhaler, fear clutching my chest. The nightmare felt so real— his cruel smirk burned into my mind , making me doubt his words.
“Now, come to the bedroom,” he declared, voice firm, brooking no argument.
I stayed rooted.
The dream’s terror lingered, blurring reality, making me question if he’d let me die next time.
“Penelope,” he snapped, his voice a whip, snapping me from my thoughts.
Shaking, I stood and pressed the inhaler to my lips, the cool mist easing my lungs. I sank back into the couch, clutching it like a lifeline. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, voice steady despite the fear. “This is where I’m sleeping.”
He stepped forward, boots silent on marble, and I flinched, hands shooting up as if to ward him off. “Don’t dare carry me like I’m a doll,” I warned, voice trembling but defiant, palms useless against his strength.
His eyes stayed cold as the lake outside, jaw tight.
“You body-shamed me an hour ago, and now you want me to sleep beside you?” I snapped, anger flaring through fear. “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. And I still want to know about Seraphina—who is she to you?”
He smirked, gaze raking me like a blade. “You think you have any right to question me, Penelope?”
“I sure do,” I shot back, heart pounding with rage and hurt. “You forced me to be your wife. I didn’t ask for this. As your wife, I deserve to know if you’re fucking other women—especially with those hickeys on your neck. I don’t believe your bullshit about not sleeping with her.”
His eyes darkened, lips curling into a cruel sneer. “Maybe stop wondering who Seraphina is and focus on yourself, Penelope... your body.”
“You’re carrying far too much weight. That stomach, those rolls... Do yourself a favor—hit the gym. Work. Sweat. And stop thinking you’re special enough to ever question me.”
The words sliced through me. My breath caught, pain blooming in my chest.
I’d been body-shamed before—my plus-size curves a target—but Dmitri’s words cut deeper.
Antonio’s betrayal had stung, but this... this was worse.
He had been my first love, those teenage summers spent sharing cupcakes and dreams now twisted into anguish.
He was my husband, the man who’d forced vows on me, and his scorn made me feel small, ugly, worthless.
My throat tightened, tears threatening, but I swallowed them, refusing to break.
He took another step, looming over me like a storm. “Listen, Penelope, you don’t get to question me,” he growled, voice dangerous. “Not after what you did. This is as meek as I get. Don’t tempt me.”
“You made a promise to me, yet you moved on while I waited. You dated, you courted another man... almost married him. If I hadn’t come and ruined that wedding, you would have gone through with it.
You promised me, and yet you forgot. But I came at the right time to make you fulfill that promise.
And now... after betraying me, you think you can question me? ”
““That’s not betrayal,” I shot back, hands clenched into fists.
“You left abruptly and gave me no reason to hope you’d ever come back.
Am I supposed to put my life on hold, living in some fantasy that you’d return someday?
You could have just kidnapped me outright—I wouldn’t have had the right to question you.
But we exchanged rings. We took vows at the altar. You must honor that.”
I took a shaky breath, fury flaring. “And what do you mean I shouldn’t tempt you? Will you kill me if I do? Like you did your own parents?”
“Yes, Penelope,” he said, eyes blazing with hatred. “If it comes to that, I’ll kill you and bury you six feet under. If I could bury my own mother for her sins, who the fuck do you think you are?”
I froze, his words hitting like a gut punch, the mention of his mother a chilling mystery.
“I didn’t make you my wife because you’re beautiful,” he continued, voice dripping with contempt.
“You’re not. You’re... heavy, unremarkable, a burden on the eye.
Talking about rape as if you could turn me on?
You could never, Penelope. I brought you here to make you suffer—for your crimes and your parents’ sins.
Consider it an honor that you’re even my wife.
Now, stop pretending you have any rights in my house and go to bed. ”
Tears burned my eyes, each word a lash, stripping away my confidence and pride.
His hatred mixed with the ghost of the boy I once loved, making the pain raw and searing.
My belly, my curves, felt exposed under his gaze, insecurities flaring, making me feel less than human.
But I wouldn’t cry—not in front of him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked slowly to the bedroom, each step heavy, his words a weight on my soul.
I didn’t speak, couldn’t trust my voice.
The room was as I’d left it.
I lay down, curling into myself.
His words lingered, my insecurities a storm in my head— heavy, unremarkable, a burden on the eye.
They cut deeper because he was my husband, because I had once loved him.
“We’re attending a ball tomorrow, 8 PM,” he said flatly, breaking the silence. “Be on your best behavior.”
No answer left my lips—only the hollow throb of my heart.
Moments later, tears streamed silently, soaking the pillow.
The pain was too much—his hatred, body-shaming, the loss of my freedom. I’d thought I could fight him, defy his control, but now I wasn’t sure. He was a monster, capable of killing me, as he’d said. Yet his obsession—his vow to keep me forever—felt like a twisted promise, not just a threat.
Dmitri Volkov, how long do you think you can keep me here? I’ll escape—maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but I will.
I cried myself to sleep, resolve flickering but unbroken, the ball tomorrow a new battlefield I’d face, whether I was ready or not.