Page 23 of Vows in Sin

R eign

I can’t leave fast enough.

“I’ve got to get Tabs to the tents.” I steer Tabby away, heat raging in my eardrums. It takes every ounce of focus to introduce Tabitha around to the other medics she’ll be working with. She stitches me up. I catch Seraphina watching us from the edge of the tent.

I look away.

I tell Tabitha I’ll be back after a shower.

I won’t.

I wander over to the pool house, holding the clean pile of clothes I’ve been handed under my good arm, pressed against my side.

I’ll shower in here.

It’s quiet in here. A slice of solitude after the firestorm.

Clean and dressed, I don’t know where to go next. I end up wandering the grounds until Tess comes to find me.

“Dinner,” she says. “You’re going to be late.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes. We’re celebrating. And we need you there. You were our rock.” She links her arm in mine so I have no other choice but to go with her.

The dinner table is long. Too long. White linens, silver candelabras, and an uncomfortable number of Bachmans, all seated like we’re pretending the world didn’t explode.

That we weren’t covered in ashes not so long ago.

This is how the women like it, though. They keep spirits up with events. Cocktails. Silk dresses cut to curves to make us men sweat.

And by some cruel twist of fate, she’s seated beside me.

Looking like a fever dream in soft yellow silk, her curls pinned up with flowers. She smells like her. I’m seated close enough to be enveloped in it.

She’s not looking at me. Not exactly. Other than the quick side glances she thinks I don’t sense. But I do. My body is rigid with tension, on higher alert than when I called for the evacuation. No movement or exhale of breath gets by without my notice.

Her foot taps nervously under the table. Right next to mine. The vibrations she makes on the floor travel from the soles of my shoes and reverberate right to my core.

Tabitha’s down the table from us. Thank fuck.

“Pass the wine,” Seraphina whispers, eyes still on her plate.

I reach for the bottle. My sling makes it awkward. I knock down the half-filled wineglass beside me. Clatter. Red wine spills across the white cloth like a line of blood in snow.

Everyone looks.

Seraphina immediately grabs a napkin, dabbing it up.

“Don’t.” I take the napkin from her and clean it up myself.

She sits back in her chair. “Fine. Just trying to help.”

It’s the first words we’ve exchanged since the last night I saw her at the club.

“Still,” she says, “Nice work at the Village.”

“Wasn’t me. Team effort.”

I need to tell her. She’s the only person I’ve wanted to talk to since I stepped off that plane. I grab her hand underneath the cover of the table. “Listen.”

Her bright eyes snap to mine. “What?”

“That evacuation? That was all you.”

Her brow crinkles. “How?”

“I couldn’t figure out how the Morettis were doing what they did. Then, I remembered what you said on our coffee date.”

“So it was a date,” she muses.

“Two people who’ve kissed having coffee?” These young people love to complicate everything. “Of course it was.”

“Keep going.”

“We’d gotten some intel that I’d been mulling over. Then, what you said that day came back to me. In that moment, it clarified everything.” I shake my head, still bewildered by the whole thing. “I don’t know how to explain it. You were just there. In my mind. The pieces came together.”

She nods, then looks away. “I wanted to run to you,” she whispers suddenly.

I turn to her, throat tight. “What?”

“The second I saw you. On the tarmac.” Her spoon clinks too loudly as she tries to cut into a piece of roasted carrot.

I move closer. “I wish you had.”

“Thank god I didn’t.”

We both think the same thing. Tabitha. We sit in silence.

She must mean after the club. Before coming here for Dame. I push some meat around on my plate. My throat feels tight, my mouth like sawdust.

“Does Tabitha know about us?” she finally asks.

“No. I don’t think so. I’ve not told her.”

“Thank God,” she breathes. “I haven’t either.”

“Then she doesn’t know,” I confirm.

“We have to tell her,” I say at the same exact time Seraphina’s saying, “We can’t tell her.”

Seraphina gives me her determined look. “We can’t tell her. We’re all staying together! It’ll be so awkward. And the last thing a bride needs on her wedding day is two women who are staying in her house at war with one another.”

“I can’t not tell her.” I take a sip of water. “She’s my daughter.”

“Exactly,” she hisses. Her eyes dart down the table to where Tabby sits, deep in conversation with Cleo. “Which is why no matter what you say, she’s going to want to kill me. Girl code.”

“But we didn’t know. And now we do. So if we tell her, no harm, no foul.” Isn’t that what Americans say?

“You clearly have no idea, old timer. Things have changed since your time. It is not cool to mess around with women young enough to be your daughter. She is going to kill you. And then, she is going to kill me even harder.”

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss. “Please.”

“Pfft!” Huffing, she looks in the opposite direction from me. She goes to grab her water glass but misjudges the distance.

It tips. Ice water spills into my lap. I inhale sharply as the freezing liquid soaks through my pants.

“Shit, I didn’t mean?—”

I growl, “You better run, girl.”

“How you gonna catch me with one arm?” She hands me another napkin, biting her lip, eyes sparkling.

And despite the awkwardness, the sting of my burns, the ache in my shoulder, and the storm in my chest, I feel alive.

“Dad. Are you okay? Looks like you took a little swim.” Tabitha’s suddenly behind my chair, glancing down at me.

Loyalty is born in truth.

I need to come clean to Tabitha. The sooner the better. I look at Seraphina. Seraphina shoots me a wary glance.

Those pleading doe eyes suck me in.

I give Seraphina a nod of agreement. I turn over my shoulder to look at my daughter with a shot of pain ricocheting up my neck. “Nothing but a little water, Tabby Cat. Cleaned me right up.”

Seraphina straightens quickly. “Excuse me,” she blurts, standing too fast. The chair scrapes.

Tabitha watches her with amused curiosity. “Everything alright?”

“I just—I forgot something in my room. It’s nothing,” Seraphina says, backing away.

“I’ll go with you,” Tabitha offers. “We can catch up.”

A good friend.

Seraphina’s gaze darts from father to daughter. It’s too much. A chat will break her. “I’m fine. Be back in a minute!”

I track her retreat with a clenched jaw, my body leaning toward her before I can stop it. “Seraphina.”

But she’s gone.

And all I can do is stare after her like a fool.

The chair beside me is empty now, and the ache inside me is a cavern.

I pat Tabitha’s hand. “I’m good. Really.” I see Cleopatra at the end of the table, beckoning Tabby over. Haze, her soon-to-be brother-in-law, is by her side, smiling in our direction.

“I think Cleo has someone she wants you to meet.” I stand, wrapping Tabby in a quick side hug. As soon as she’s gone, I follow Seraphina out.

I don’t even look back to see if anyone is watching.

I find her on the balcony, gazing out over the lake. The moonlight creates white lines diagonally across the water. She sits on a carved white bench, looking like an angel, her pinned-up curls blowing in the night breeze.

I stand in the doorway, watching her. Finally, I nod at the space beside her. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” She scoots, making more room.

I plop down on the bench, our arms pressed together. I let myself revel in the feeling. Finally, I cross that painful bridge. “I know the real reason you’re here.”

“To help with my friend’s wedding?” she scoffs. “Thank goodness I came when I did. Emilia says?—"

I hold up a hand to stop her. “Don’t lie to me.”

“What are you talking about?” Her brows knit. She looks genuinely confused.

I turn to face the lake. The mountains rise from behind the waters, their massive presence grounding me. “Miss Fifi told me you’ve come to Italy chasing a man.”

“Wait, how do you know Miss Fifi? She never leaves the building.” Realization lights in her eyes. “You went to my apartment.”

“I wasn’t used to not hearing from you.”

“We said it was the last time.”

I shrug. “I got worried.”

She stares out over the water, a secret smile on her face. Finally, she concludes, “Miss Fifi must have thought you were Dame.”

“Doubtful,” I snort. “How’d you describe him to her? A wrinkly old man with a scruffy-ass beard?”

A little smile comes to her lips. “That’s not how I’d describe you.”

I don’t dare to ask her how she would.

“I told her Dame was tall, dark, and deadly,” she says. “She must have thought you were him. I only told her I was off to a friend’s wedding.” She has an earnest glow.

“Then why’d she tell me you were chasing down another man?” I ask.

She thinks for a second before guessing. “She knew Dame had ghosted me. She thought you were Dame, and in my defense, she was trying to make you jealous. On my behalf.”

I groan. All the pain I went through on the plane ride over here. Imagining her with him. “So generous of her.”

“That’s pretty sweet of her when you think about it.” Seraphina laughs. “I’ll be sending her a thank you note with a basket of fruit tomorrow. She loves mandarin oranges.”

“Fifi brushed the dust off those old acting skills of hers. Came right out of retirement. Had me more than convinced.”

“Nice to know she’s got my back.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, it’s the only possibility because I haven’t told a soul about…”

She stops. Looks away.

“About what?”

Her eyes rise to mine. “About us.”

“Us,” I say.

There’s an us.

The word stretches and grows, consuming the air around me.

“100%,” I ask. “You’re not here for Dame?”

She shakes her head, looking down. “No. Like I told you. I came to help plan Cleopatra’s wedding.” I can read the pain in her face as she says, “And clear my head about some personal stuff.”

I cup her chin, dainty and fragile in the palm of my beastly hand. I bring those brown eyes up to mine. “What personal stuff?”

She presses her small soft hand along the side of my face, putting on a brave smile for me. “Like you telling me that was the last time. Was it? I can leave…”

Her words hang between us.

I can’t lose her. Not again.

“Stay. And we tell Tabitha.” I bring her face to mine, kissing her deeply. “And from now on we’re nothing but honest with one another.”

She pulls away. “If we’re going to start over, if we’re going to be honest, I have something to tell you.” She takes a shaky breath. “Dame’s heard this before.”

I ask, the name in my mouth like sawdust. “Dame?”

She nods. Arrows tear through my chest. “We shared a moment. In Rome. Turns out we shared a similar experience from our past.

Jealousy. Burns. I want her moments. Every single one. I will be the only shoulder she cries on after tonight.

Or I’ll kill someone trying.

My entire body clenches, preparing to listen to her talk about sharing something so intimate with another man.

She spills the story. “When I first got here, I was worried things were going to be awkward between me and him. But we talked. Over drinks—” Her words trail off, her brow knitting as a deep territorial growl emanates.

Was that me?

I clear my throat. “Continue. Please.”

She leans closer, squeezing my hand with a laugh. “When I say drinks, I mean with me and Cleopatra. Of course, I asked her to come.” She gives me a long look, as if that should mean something to me. “Anyway.” She shrugs. “Now Dame and I are friends.”

“Friends?” I grunt. “Kids these days, that could mean anything. Isn’t this the generation of the ‘mates with benefits’ thing?” My voice rises. “No commitment. No loyalty?—”

“Slow down, old man.” Her hand squeezes mine again, quieting me with a laugh. “It was one of those situations where I was into him, but he wasn’t into me.”

“He wasn’t your type,” I say, offering her a smile. “But you are exactly mine.”

“That’s sweet.” She smiles.

I pull her close. My words go rough. Low. I ask the only question that matters right now. “And are you still into him?”

The beat of time where I wait for her to answer is a lifetime.

“No,” she says, as sweet as a kiss. She snakes her arms around my neck, staring at me with the night stars in her eyes. “Actually, I’m kinda into someone else.”

Trapped in her baby doe stare, my good arm goes around her waist. One hard tug and she’s right up against me. “Is that so?”

“It is,” she says.

I lean closer. “Then here we are.”

“And here we are.” She closes the space between us.

“And now you’re mine.” I knot my fist in her hair and pull her to me. “And I’m never letting go.”

I lose myself in the kiss, pushing away the knot forming in the pit of my stomach.

The thought of telling Tabitha terrifies me.