Page 12 of Deceptive Vows (Bound by Vows #3)

Chapter Eleven

NAZAR

Thea had made me pelmeni, sourcing the meat from my home country and making it from scratch. She’d played it off as something simple, but for me, it was so much more. That small gesture shifted something in me.

And this thing we were entwined in was pretend.

.. was . The word stuck in my throat like a thorn.

Pretending shouldn’t feel like this–shouldn’t make my chest tighten when she leaned into me at dinner, shouldn’t make me want to prove worthy of the effort she’d put into making a dish from my homeland.

The lines between duty and desire were blurring, and I couldn’t afford that confusion.

Not with Marco’s threat looming over us, not with Pasha rushing back to New York.

Pasha’s sudden departure gnawed at me. I trusted him and my men to keep him safe, but I didn’t like him leaving without me. He’d warned me to watch my back, and I’d repeated the words back to him.

Much like my life in the Bratva, the Kalantzis family dinner swirled around us in organized chaos.

Helen, Thea’s aunt, orchestrated the meal with the same precision I’d seen Thea use in her operations.

The woman’s sharp eyes missed nothing, including the way I watched her niece.

I caught her studying me more than once, her gaze analytical but not unkind.

She reminded me of my own aunt back in Moscow—the one who’d helped raise me after my mother’s death.

“Would you like more?” Claire, one of Thea’s sisters-in-law, approached me with a bottle of vodka in hand. Her smile was warm yet appraising. It dawned on me that these women were warriors in their own unique ways, each protective of Thea.

“ Spasiba ,” I answered, then caught myself. “Thank you.” The slip into Russian made Claire’s eyes brighten with interest, but before she could ask questions, Thea’s hand found my knee under the table. A warning? A comfort? The touch sent heat through my leg either way.

All of the food was delicious. Her aunt clearly deserved her reputation for culinary skill, but it was Thea’s dish that undid me.

I closed my eyes as the flavor exploded in my mouth, and for a brief moment, I was transported home.

The taste carried memories of Sunday dinners with my father, his booming laugh filling our small apartment as he told stories about my mother when they were young.

“Tell us about Russia,” Anna, the other sister-in-law, leaned forward eagerly. “What made you leave?”

Thea tensed beside me, but I’d prepared myself for these questions. “Family business brought me here initially,” I answered smoothly. “But America offered opportunities I couldn’t find at home.” True enough, if you counted eliminating threats to the Bratva as “opportunities.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Anna’s question and give Thea the confidence to relax.

I’d successfully navigated the first question, and that had loosed a volley of more from Claire, Anna, and Helen.

Mostly, they were surface questions. These women knew my ability to answer much more than that was limited, which I appreciated.

Watching Thea with her family revealed layers I hadn’t expected. The way she rolled her eyes at her sisters-in-law’s teasing, the foods she enjoyed, the easy conversations she had with her aunt and cousins.

Her brothers watched our interactions with varying degrees of acceptance.

Lucas, the oldest, watched our interactions—a forced indifference to help sell the engagement.

Ari’s gaze held more suspicion, while Lex and Dimitris maintained careful neutrality.

Their protective instincts ran deep, something else I understood all too well.

If someone had tried to court my sister—had I been blessed with one—I would have been just as vigilant.

The promise of an evening walk with Thea lingered in my mind as we finished dinner.

We’d planned to leave dinner together, and instead of going straight home, I had the car detour to the Hartigan beach about fifteen minutes from her home.

We needed to discuss Pasha’s sudden departure.

But more than that, I wanted time alone with her, away from the performance we put on for her family.

Even if that time would be spent planning our next moves against Marco, at least it would be real.

“I met with Marco in the middle of the city at an old pizza building after I dropped you off.” I’d made a promise to keep them informed, and I was going to keep it. “He was testing me.”

“Oh?” The response came as we paused a moment, watching the water hit the shore.

“The only reason I didn’t call you last night was because there wasn’t any new information to relay.

I gave him my recommendation that he should utilize the Nightingale Opera House.

I’ll set up a shell company as a front to bring in the necessary equipment and staging to conduct the auction.

He wants it ready to go right after Christmas. ”

She wrapped her arms around my bicep and leaned into me. “That’s not much time.”

“No. I suspect he’ll give me the location of the women and girls soon so I can prepare the security for them to and from the auction.” I slid my hand atop hers and swept my gaze from one side of the beach to the other. “You see them, right?”

A chuckle. “The horridly obvious couple at three o’clock who look more like a comedy of errors? ”

“ Da ,” I replied, and we began walking again. “How often do you spend time here?”

She leaned her head against my shoulder. “Not as often as I want. It’s so peaceful. My mother would come all the time. Anytime we visited, for a brief moment in time, life was good. She found peace and happiness in this place.”

“Would you tell me about her?”

We walked in silence for a few moments, and just when I thought she wouldn’t answer, she said, “She was a drug and alcohol addict and a prostitute. We had a difficult relationship. I loved her and hated her at the same time. Most of my life was spent taking care of her.” Her voice grew quieter the longer she spoke.

“When we did have a place to stay, we were never there longer than a few months. She had a revolving door of abusive men.” She drew in a ragged breath.

“No matter how much I loved her, it wasn’t enough to clean up.

I resolved I wanted to be nothing like her. ”

My heart broke for her, and at the same time, it only reinforced my opinion that she was a warrior. “It’s okay to love her and despise what she put you through. Both are equally valid.”

“It may sound odd, but despite what I said about hating her, it wasn’t really hate.

It was frustration. I felt sorry for her and wanted more for myself.

When she died…” Thea came to a stop and hugged herself.

“It was a regular day.” She lifted her eyes to mine.

“Just a normal day. We were on the street yet again, and she sent me to the shelter to see if they had room. She said she needed a minute to think. When I returned, I found her.”

Whether she wanted it or not, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her flush against me. I wanted to infuse her with comfort. Give her someone solid to hold onto. If only just for a moment. “Not just a warrior. A survivor.”

“I never talk about her. I’m not sure why I even told you.”

“We are supposed to be getting to know each other, da ?” I chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’m glad you shared.”

When she hugged me around the chest, I was shocked and thrilled. “It’s not necessarily difficult to talk about my past, and I don’t dwell on it. Only recently has it been plaguing me more than usual.”

Leaning back, I cupped her cheek. “Perhaps it’s the changes taking place. Your brothers getting married. New sisters-in-law. ”

“That’s likely the reason.” She pulled away and straightened, her fingers brushing under her eyes in a quick, almost defiant motion. A breath, then a small lift of her chin.

“Enough of that,” she said, voice lighter but not forced. “While ordering the venison, I found out the same company has a sister business that sells black tea.” A faint smile played on her lips. “Would you like a cup? I even have milk for it.”

She was inviting me into her home. I couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Much like our other walks, she wrapped her hands around my bicep, leaned her head against my shoulder, and we strolled to her two-story home on Granville Avenue.

While she didn’t have an exact line of sight, glimpses of the sunset could be caught through the buildings.

“My mother would have loved this home.” She stood on the porch and ran her hands over the railing. “Silly enough, that’s part of the reason I bought it.”

“Nyet, I understand. It’s a way to be close to her.

Forty-two years on this earth have taught me that feelings are never straightforward.

Love and hate mix, causing confusion and frustration.

We’re told that we have to feel a certain way about things, but I’ve found that most of the time, we all fall somewhere in the middle of black and white. ”

“Yes, I think you’re right.” She spun on her heels and unlocked her door, holding it open for me. “Welcome to my home.”

As I stepped inside, I realized I’d just been invited into her sanctuary.

My Dark Angel’s hundred-year-old home maintained its vintage heart with wood paneling and floors.

The foyer opened to a large living area and high vaulted ceilings.

To the right, a staircase led to the second floor, and to the left, a small half-bath featured black-and-white tile floors and mauve-painted walls.

“You have a lovely home.”

“It’s my escape.” She smiled.

I shut the door behind me. “I can see why.”

After a short tour, we settled in the kitchen while water heated for tea. The table for four fit the little alcove next to it, overlooking a manicured garden through a large picture window

“Have you ever met your biological father?” I watched her as I asked the question. Her body language spoke louder than her words most of the time.

“No, and I have no desire to.” Her back went stiff straight, head lifted. “My father is Alexandros Kalantzis. A great man who taught me strength, courage, and honor. He showered me with love and affection. He was the best father I could have ever had.”

If my children loved and respected me half as much as Thea loved and respected hers, I’d be a blessed man. “I can see that.”

“He…” The sentence trailed off as her eyebrows knitted together. “Do you smell that?” A scent of acrid smoke and gasoline drifted through the air. Before I could respond, she bolted from the kitchen, her heels slamming against the hardwood floor.

I launched to my feet and caught up just as she skidded to a stop in front of the garage door. The wood smoldered, and an ominous orange glow flickered around it. My hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could touch the handle.

“Wait.” I hovered my hand near the seam—too hot. ”Don’t open it. Air feeds fire.”

She already had her phone to her ear, her voice even despite the fear in her eyes.

After rattling off her address, she paused.

“Yes, garage, spreading fast.” Her gaze met mine, and I saw the same question: deliberate or accidental?

What if Marco had decided he didn’t care about taking them out all at once?

What if he changed his mind and targeted them separately, starting with her?

That also made me question his relationship with Krysha.

A concussive blast roared through the door, rattling the walls and showering paint flakes from the ceiling. Thea flinched but didn’t drop the phone, though her knuckles went white around it.

“Please hurry.” The words came out as a whisper.

Flames burst through the door seams like hungry fingers, racing up the wall and spreading across the ceiling with an unnatural speed. The paint on the walls bubbled and blistered. The heat hit us in a wave, and I pulled Thea back against my chest, already calculating our escape route.

“We need to get out.” I kept my voice calm but urgent. “Now, Thea.”