Cunning Vows: Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance (Lethal Vows Book 3)
Chapter 19

Was it a date?

I mean, he did kiss me, just not on those lips.

So was it a date?

I shake my head. Am I out of my ever-fucking mind? I don’t do dates.

Not since I attempted my first one at sixteen, and when he tried to come into my home, Alek broke both of his legs with a bat. I didn’t tell Alek that I’d actually invited him over so I could explore my raging teenage hormones. Then I learned the value of sex. Not dates. Sex.

And that fucker marked me on my inner thigh. No one has ever marked me.

Then he so easily left me high and dry with no fucking care in the world. Why is it so hard to fuck this man? Anyone else would’ve caved in already. I would’ve gotten what I want, and this blackmail bullshit would be behind me.

I let out a frustrated breath, pick up a pen, and aim for the new blue china vase I had imported. I throw it as Vance walks in, and it lands right on target.

“An impressive shot as always, miss,” he says.

“Obviously,” I say as I spin myself on the chair to do a full circle. I’m sick of sitting at this desk. I’m tired of these new constraints. I’m most certainly going out of my fucking mind as I try to replace Alek and understand River.

It’s filthy to think that I’m thinking of Alek and River almost equally as much.

“A package has arrived for you,” Vance says, and I come to a stop and clap my hands together once.

Oooh, I do like presents.

He places a red box before me and goes to walk out without a further word.

“Vance.” He stops and turns around.

“Yes, miss?”

“Any luck with the investigator?” I ask. He shakes his head. I do all that I can not to slump into my chair. Despite the shit show with Igor, he’d given me a lead. I’ve since asked my investigators to focus on Russia.

“Nothing so far,” he says.

I sigh. “Can you request some tea to be made?”

“Yes, miss,” he says, nodding and leaving as he closes the door behind him. Again, I’m empty and alone in this vast space. I narrow my gaze on the present, which is the only thing taking that loneliness away. Reaching for the package, I tear it open, revealing my favorite brand. Another Cartier jewel for the collection. I smile as I stare at the pretty red box, but then I remember I didn’t order anything. Lifting the box’s lid, I replace a card.

The way this snake will wrap around your wrist is how you wrap around my fucking willpower.

X

River

I fight the smile that attempts to curve my lips. No, I’m not giving that motherfucker forgiveness after he left me high and dry last night… but this is certainly speaking my language. Especially with the beautiful new addition of the earrings he bought me.

Smiling, I open it to replace a watch I’ve seen online but never in person. The band is a serpent that wraps around the wrist and is encased in diamonds. The head holds the clock, and I smile as I put it on and admire it.

Beautiful.

A knock on the door interrupts me and my expression drops. What now?

“Come in,” I say as the large wooden doors open to reveal the old bitch herself.

I stand behind my desk, surprised. “Meredith?”

“You’ve certainly gotten comfortable if you think you can continue ignoring my calls,” the old hag says, well dressed in a designer suit. Her almost-black hair is wrapped into a tight bun. Those piercing blue eyes are as lethal as ever. If it weren’t for the faint hint of the wrinkles around her eyes, most wouldn’t guess she’s a woman in her late sixties.

“Things have been busy. It’s unlike you to visit. Are you about to kick the bucket?”

She offers me a look that expresses she has no intention of ever dying. “Why, so you can spend the inheritance on more shiny things?” she says as she looks at the box on my desk. I don’t know why, but I don’t want her to know it’s from River. The old bitch doesn’t need to get any more in my business than she already tries to.

“If memory serves me correctly, you were the one who started me on ‘shiny things,’” I remind her as I step around my desk to meet her in the center of the room. We both take a seat on the long sofas, a wooden coffee table between us.

She looks around the room. She’s only ever been here once before. All other times, Alek and I went to her. It’s unsettling to have her in my home because of that fact.

This was in many ways my oasis. When someone like the old bitch makes her way in, you live in uncertainty that she might burn it to the ground simply because you like it. I know this because she raised me on the same mentality.

“Your waitstaff are slow,” she reprimands as she pulls out a cigarette and lights it with a gold lighter with a dragon engraved into it. I sneer at the disgusting habit, and hate that she does it in my home.

“They’ll be here with tea shortly.”

In many ways, I was grateful to the old bitch for fostering my brother and me. But it doesn’t mean we weren’t broken in or molded to her standards. Any questions or longing we might have had about our parents were quickly dismissed.

I had hired a private investigator in my teens to search for them. When Meredith found out—not that it took her too long—I was heavily reprimanded.

Longing, she had taught me, was a weakness.

Despite the ordeal, the investigations came up empty.

“When were you going to tell me about Alek?” she growls out.

Ah. That makes sense as to why she’s here.

Clay walks in with a tray of tea, followed by Vance, who has a tray with an assortment of biscuits and sandwiches.

“You still have these two, huh?” the old bitch asks, blowing smoke into the air. “Well, at least they survived longer than the last ones. Means you’re being more careful.”

I offer a curt smile. “You can’t very well still be holding against me the two security guards who were shot dead when I was seventeen, can you? Especially since the people who shot them were after you, not me.”

Her head tilts higher as she watches them place the trays down and quietly leave the room.

Clay is peering in as he closes the door, as if offering me sympathetic support. My men can push back the world and most who arrive at my residences. The old bitch is not one of them.

She picks up her tea and takes a sniff. “Well, we’ve always had very different tastes, haven’t we?” she says as she puts it back down. I have the feeling this will be a very short visit, which suits me just fine.

“In some things, yes,” I agree. But in many ways, this is the woman who molded me in her own likeness. Some things I took as strengths, and others I discarded as she tried to mold my personality as well. And, well, we all know how unbreaking and riveting that is.

I take a sip of tea, appreciative of its balance. “Alek went missing over three months ago. I have investigators searching for him, but all of them are coming up empty.”

“Three months?” she scoffs.

I try to downplay it as much as possible. I might be grateful to the old bitch, but my loyalty has and always will be with Alek. She will always come second to that.

“Why am I only replaceing out about this now?”

I casually shrug.

“You will lose the attitude. I’m asking you a question,” she reprimands.

I eye her. My brother and I were not raised with love. We learned quickly about consequences, respect, negotiation, and manipulation. We were given tools to build an empire, ruin lives, and make money. Right now, I feel like a child again, learning that lesson. This old bitch is the only one who can make me feel so small, and I suppose in ways, that’s what a parent does, isn’t it? Constantly lecturing and checking in?

“I have it handled,” I say.

“Three months says otherwise.” She stands. “I’ll have my men search for him as well. Do you not realize how weak this makes you look?”

“I can assure you, the auctions are still thriving even without Alek and—”

“It’s been three months. What do you think it will look like in six months, Anya? It’s better off if he’s announced dead than simply missing.”

Sharp pain erupts in my jaw from how tightly I’m clenching it.

Her gaze softens ever so slightly. “You’ve always been too dependent on him. I’ve raised you to be a brutal and cutthroat woman. If he remains unfound, he is a loose end.”

“How could you say that about your own son?” I say as I place my tea down and uncross my legs to stand.

The old bitch doesn’t know how to show compassion or uncertainty. But the fact that she’s here shows she’s concerned. She also lives by the philosophy of cutting something off if it no longer serves a purpose, and the longer Alek remains away, the more she will think of him that way.

It’s why I didn’t tell her in the first place.

“I love you both dearly,” she says, and I try not to laugh at the term “love.” But we love in our own ways. “But we can’t show any weakness, Anya. As a woman, you know that better than the next person. Find him so this doesn’t become a bigger issue than it already is,” she warns.

She turns for the door, and Clay opens it on the other side, letting her out.

No goodbye.

No hugs.

Just another lecture.

I bend over to pick up my tea and then walk back to my paperwork and stare at the new watch wrapped around my wrist.

Beautiful.