Shattered Vows: An Arranged Marriage Standalone Romance (Tarnished Empire)
Shattered Vows: Chapter 8

Like the ocean rocking me to sleep, the sun’s warm rays nudged me awake. I watched it rise as I carried my board to the water. I nodded at two of the guys I always met early at the surf. We didn’t talk much. We were there to wake up with the water, not with other humans.

The water washed over me as I dove in. It pushed my wild hair away, naturally smoothing it back the way the wind couldn’t.

The waves approached and I ducked one after the other. Into the breeze, then into the deep. Air and water. Air and water. A rhythm the ocean created or maybe the wind did. The sun warmed us as we took our first wave, and the ocean cooled us as we fell back in before we hit the sand.

The water wasn’t a place I went to think.

It was a place I went to escape and be held hostage at the same time. I needed this. I was addicted to it but it was one of the only places I felt free.

As the air got warmer and warmer, the town came to life and I rode in my last wave.

“You done for the day?” Bradley asked, not that he cared at all other than he wanted me to make him a smoothie soon.

“I’ll get the truck open soon. You can’t be that hungry.” Bradley was about my age and had been a loyal customer since I started working the truck.

“Not like the smoothie is going to curb my appetite anyway.”

“Then go to the cafe down the street.” I knew he wouldn’t.

He scrunched his nose at me. “And deal with the line? Nah.”

I rolled my eyes and rung out my hair as best I could. “You’d wait in line all day for me.”

He eyed me up and down. I was in a bikini and although I could have lost the extra weight on my ass, he stared at it every chance he got.

“You bet I would.” He winked.

I chuckled. We had a good friendship. Comfortable. And when we were both single, we’d indulge every now and then. With a dark full head of hair and a buff body, Bradley was a good amount of fun. The butterflies weren’t there, and I’m sure his heart wasn’t connected to mine in a passionate way, but we scratched one another’s itches when we wanted.

Except this last week, no one could seem to scratch the itch the way a certain man in a jet had. “Give me ten and I’ll have a Pink Princess ready for you.”

“Can you consider changing the name of that?” he yelled after me as I rushed away. I saw a few people idling by the truck, which meant they wanted a morning fix too.

It wasn’t the norm.

I usually had time to open and get dressed in some of the wrinkled clothing I stashed in a ball somewhere in the truck. I waved at a couple of guys I knew, one was a surfer, and then did a double take when I saw a black Rolls Royce idling in the parking lot.

One I’d seen before. One I’d ridden in just a week before.

My stomach flip flopped and a wave of queasiness followed. Not good. Sweating, I avoided the itch to duck down and hide.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, I actually gasped at the sight of both Dante and Bastian exiting their vehicle. Tall, built, and all straight lines in their black suits. Their shoes shone like they were made of diamonds and as my eyes trailed up, their faces didn’t disappoint either.

Both faces I knew.

Both faces I thought I’d never see again.

Bastian smiled like he’d heard my gasp. My mouth snapped shut.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes but not before witnessing how when he smiled it didn’t really meet his eyes. Not the way it had that night. His face had held youth and some sort of humor and connection with me on that jet. I’d felt like we belonged in the same universe.

But now, he was devoid of any emotion.

He could have been on Jupiter, light years away with the look he’d plastered on his face. Then his eyes cut away from me and I saw him scan the beach, like he was making mental notes.

My grandmother had always dealt with men like that. She said it was business, and the part of me that was happier being in the dark let it slide.

Those men walking toward my food truck were nothing but bad news. Bad news and a one night stand I wanted to forget.

Instead, he walked toward me, more lethal in the sunlight, like the night had cloaked his danger. He was ready to haunt me in the daylight rather than just my dreams.

As I opened the metal back door into my little sanctuary, I didn’t bother grabbing the ball of clothes in the corner. It was hot enough that I could make smoothies in a bikini anyway. It might be one of the last warm days, even with that chill in the air. The seasons were changing just as my life would be soon.

I threw some strawberries, yogurt, pineapple and ice into the mixer as I leaned back to see who was in the window. My first customer was an older surfer who switched up his drink every other day. “Jonah, what can I get you?”

“What are you making there?”

“The Pink Princess for Bradley. He likes them prissy.”

Jonah chuckled and turned to wink at Bradley who flipped him off. Then he shrugged and nodded toward the mixer. “I guess I like them prissy too. Add another to the blender.”

I dropped in all the ingredients and threw in two bags of my spice. I ground up cinnamon sticks, chia and flax seeds, agave extracted powder and other nutritional additions that added a pop of flavor. After adding a cube of frozen wheatgrass, I pressed the button.

As a longer line formed and I took down more orders, I spotted the suits moving slowly toward my truck, waiting their turn. Both of them scoped out the area like it was for some sort of sale. They’d soon learn this place was priceless, owned only by the water and the land. The seagulls may have had a few pieces of it too.

I handed another Pink Princess to the next customer and grabbed my hanging chalkboard sign as the beautiful men descended upon my food truck.

Suddenly my little window was letting in too much sun.

Scribbling a few additions to my chalkboard, I didn’t look up as I said, “What can I get you?”

Normally, if it was a newcomer, I’d welcome them and offer the list of special drinks, but men dressed so nicely where the sand dirtied you up and made you one with the beach irked me.

Especially when one of them was a man I’d slept with and hoped to never see again.

“I don’t know.” Bastian’s hair curled every which way. Did he style it to look that good or was he just born with that rich color and perfect wave? “You don’t have a menu written out yet for me to choose from.”

I shrugged as I kept writing. “Well, most everyone got the Pink Princess smoothie today.”

“The owner of this company probably wouldn’t like to know that the girl he hired isn’t giving customers their full attention or all the options.”

“The owner of this food truck is just fine with it. She thinks guys in suits who come and demand all the options are sort of rude,” I deadpanned and leaned through the window enough so they would both have to step back. Then, I hung the sign to the left and pointed theatrically. “Oh, look, a menu!”

“Pink Princess, Kiss of a Rainbow, and Black Suit Pricks?” Bastian hesitated on the last one. His smile after was swift, though, like he had a sense of humor after all.

That smile dimmed everything else on the beach that day. It was deadly, brilliant, and quite frankly, the most beautiful thing I’d seen besides the ocean water. His dark eyes sparkled just like it when he smiled, but the darkness hid something deep down that I knew I didn’t want to replace.

“Pick your poison, boys.” I folded my hands over my chest and his eyes flicked up and down my body.

“Morina,” he said my name, and it sounded just like it had in that plane right after we’d slept together. He’d pushed my hair from my cheek and murmured it softly like I was the only woman in the world.

Maybe I had been for just that night.

This was reality though, far from sunrises and private jets. And he wasn’t supposed to be in my reality.

At all.

“How did you replace me and why did you even look?” I glared at him.

His eyes widened, clearly shocked with my question. “I didn’t come looking for you. I’m looking for the owner of this truck.”

“That’s me,” I threw back.

“No. That’s impossible. Maribel owns this truck.”

My grandmother’s name rolled off his tongue with ease but it hit me like a bullet. “Maribel Bailey is my grandmother. She gave this to me.”

His gaze whipped to Dante who immediately started putting things into his phone.

“What’s going on?”

But Bastian was already shaking me off and dismissing me. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll handle it.” He growled.

“Oh, daddy can’t share anything with little old me now?” The question shot out before I had time to think about it.

His eyes widened, and his jaw flexed.

I stepped back, suddenly realizing that Bastian and I were not in the territory of playful taunts anymore. Our realities were mixing and they weren’t ones to be toyed with.

I turned to the blender, not giving them time to choose anymore. “Smoothies it is.”

“Tell me, is it sanitary for you to be making these in a bikini?” he asked softly.

I can’t help wanting to reply, “I’m not making them in a bikini; I’m making them in a blender.”

He couldn’t come to my place of business, throw around my grandmother’s name with no explanation, and then on top of everything else, comment on my attire. I wasn’t good at hiding my emotions. It was the Sagittarius in me.

I cleared my throat and my frustration away when he didn’t respond. “If you’re so concerned, go elsewhere.”

“See, that’s the interesting thing about this place.” Bastian leaned into the window of the food truck, put his elbows on it like he owned it, like he owned everything. Just with that movement, I knew he was important: someone my grandma probably knew and someone I didn’t want to know at all. “You’re the only food truck for three miles up and down this beach. We had on file that was your grandmother’s doing. Tell me, how did you and her manage that?”

I didn’t like to admit that I was naive. I didn’t really consider myself flighty either but his words were a kick to the stomach and reminder that I was. I never really thought much of it. I’d taken over the food truck at fifteen, when my parents had died. Ever since, I’d worked it nights and weekends and summers during high school. When I graduated, I’d taken it on fully.

Business was always good enough.

“Didn’t you ever consider that, piccola ragazza?”

“Stop with the little girl nickname.” I sounded just like that as I said it.

He chuckled and I spun back to make the smoothie. These two men had waited for the line to go before them. They wanted to be last, which meant they wanted more from me than just a smoothie.

Bastian was never getting any more ever again.

I didn’t enjoy one night stands coming back to terrorize me.

I poured blueberries in the blender, spices that would turn the banana and ice black, and just as Bastian started to speak, I hit the power button.

I smirked at him and winked. His response was to lift an eyebrow.

Welcome to Mo’s food truck, jerk. Here, I rule.

He looked toward the sky and sucked on his teeth. It gave me a good look at his strong neck, how tense it was, and the little bit of black ink that peeked out from his shirt. I’d run my hands over those tattoos while he’d dragged a finger over mine just a week ago. What a reminder collar that he wasn’t all stuck up suit but something more underneath.

Once the whirring morphed to a soft hum, I knew I had to turn off the machine. I grabbed two Styrofoam cups and took the big pitcher off the stand to pour in the contents. The fruit complemented the spice in this mixture well. I’d made it a million times before but I usually called it Midnight on the Beach. Today, I would add the little twist just for them. “You need to be calm or energized today, Dante?”

“Does it matter?” Bastian grumbled.

Yet, his friend behind him with the piercing green eyes, responded quickly, “We need energy.”

“Well, then. I guess Mr. Difficult will have what Dante’s having.” I grabbed a citrus oil with a touch of lavender and shook in a couple drops to top off their drinks. I handed over the cups and straws.

I was about to say the total when Bastian laid a fifty on the window counter between us. “You own this truck then?”

I stared at the money, not at all sure I wanted that big of a tip. I had men come in and out of my little beach town all the time. They threw money around like it meant something, like they could attach all the strings in the world to it too. “So what if I do own the truck?”

“I need to know if your grandma has partnerships with other businesses in the area.” He nudged the money my way.

I narrowed my eyes at him, rung him up, and pushed the change back his way. “I don’t have information for you.”

“Oh, come on. You’re sitting here in the only food truck in town, practically the only small business if I’m being honest, and you don’t know that she’s made some deals?”

“I don’t make a lot of money here, Bastian,” I said softly, my eyes darting between him and his accomplice now.

A seagull cawed overhead and the water crashing on the beach sounded much louder than before.

“You could make more if you answered my questions.” His voice was calming now, almost hypnotic, urging me to go ahead and obey. He pushed the extra change my way.

I wasn’t that naïve.

I shook my head. “I don’t want your money.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I could see him clenching his jaw. Then he slowly unwrapped the straw, never taking that gaze from mine. He dipped it into his drink and brought it to his lips. Full lips. Ones that wrapped around the straw and sucked in my creation.

I shouldn’t have been turned on. He looked like a stuffy god, a ruler who needed to unwind.

It had me curious, nervous, fearful, and turned on all at the same time.

All things I shouldn’t be feeling. The one feeling missing that should have been there was regret.

He cleared his throat and I jumped, lost in my own thoughts and focused directly on his mouth. It quirked up before he immediately let it drop again. “Your shake is really good, Morina.”

“It’s out of this world.” Dante stepped around him and put his large hand out as if he wanted to be friends. “Nice to see you again. Wasn’t aware we were going to. Your name is Morina, right?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why, Dante? Find something in my file that isn’t there now?”

“Your file says you reside in the town over and have no relation to Maribel.”

“My mother was quirky with birth certificates. My dad’s the only name on mine.”

He lifted a shoulder and turned to Bastian. “Can’t expect me to know that.”

“Cade would have.”

“Cade’s had his head in a computer since he was born. I was fighting for our country. Want to weigh the two?”

“Not really. Considering my brother can start a war in 2.5 seconds on a computer, there’s not much to weigh,” Bastian shot back.

Dante laughed, so easy in his confidence even when it was being threatened. “You’re right. That guy is chaos waiting to erupt.”

“Tell me about it,” Bastian grumbled.

Dante’s green eyes cut to me again, and he lifted his shake with a smirk. “Guess we’re going to be getting to know each other much better Ms. Bailey. We can start with what you put in this shake. Is that lavender, citrus, and chia seeds?”

I heard the passion in his voice and saw the blatant disregard he had for his boss when he had a question about said passion. Bastian scowled behind him.

“You’re right,” I said. “I hide a lot of good stuff in there. I’m hoping you get an energy boost from the citrus but that the lavender keeps you calm.”

“Oh, I already know I will. Tastes like the right mix,” he mumbled. “I’ll be back for more for sure.”

I laughed at the way he vigorously nodded at his drink. I loved seeing people happy with something I created.

Bastian tapped his friend on the shoulder and Dante immediately stepped aside as he nodded to me and walked off toward the car. Good, they were going. Hopefully only Dante would come back while they were in town.

Once he was out of ear shot though, Bastian dashed my hopes. “You know something about this town and I have business in it, Morina.”

“Well, it’s a small town. Everybody knows something. Ask anyone.”

“I want to ask you though. I have business with your grandmother. You seem to have figured out a little trick and I need to understand why.”

“What do you do, Mister…? Armanelli was it?” I waited for him to confirm.

“You know you can call me Bastian.”

“Sure it can’t be daddy anymore?” I couldn’t hold back. If he was going to throw little girl in my face, I was going to bite back. I turned and grabbed the large pitcher to take it to the sink.

“Oh, it still can, piccola ragazza,” he growled low enough that I almost didn’t hear.

My body reacted immediately. Jesus. He jumped from gentleman to just man so fast. I knew he was dangerous and into something questionable now more than ever. Still I was stupid enough to replace him attractive.

I flipped my hair over my shoulder and glared at him. “No thanks. I’ll go with Bastian.”

We stared one another down. Maybe this would be the farewell battle, the one where he left me alone after.

Instead, he asked, “Care to share why you’re so defensive?”

“I don’t like you insinuating I’ve done something shady with my food truck. I’ve been here for years. My family ran this truck, and it’s been a staple of the area. There’s nothing odd about it.”

“Except that you’re the only one.”

“We don’t make much money. Maybe people just decided they wanted to make more in an actual building. The beach isn’t for everyone.”

He hummed low like my explanation didn’t make much sense. It did to me because that’s what had happened. I made just enough to get by because there wasn’t much overhead. I’d inherited the thing. We kept with tradition and this was part of it. Might have not been the smartest idea, but it didn’t matter.

“I have to clean up and get ready for the day.”

“Hmmm. Finally getting into work attire?” His gaze drifted behind me to where most of my clothes were together with a lot of other knick knacks.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to clean and that infuriated me. I couldn’t control my eyebrows slamming down. “If you think your smoothie is contaminated, I’m happy to take it back.”

As I reached for it, he backed up immediately. Ah, he liked it just as much as Dante had. “I’m keeping the smoothie.”

“It could be full of germs,” I singsonged.

“It’s surprisingly good… for a black suit smoothie, nice even.”

I smirked at him. “Am I supposed to say you’re surprisingly nice even with that black suit you’re wearing now? Because I won’t. This meeting has not been enjoyable.”

He finally stepped back, like he realized he overstayed his welcome. His shoes sank into the sand a little and looked completely unnatural in it. “I’ll see you around.”

“Please don’t,” I grumbled once he was out of earshot. I turned and washed out the blender. I scrubbed it harder than I should have but it was the only way to take out my frustration. The man was an entitled piece of work. What business did he have in the area?

He probably wanted to open a smoothie shop down the street.

I knew a shark when I saw one, in the water or out of it. They snuck up on you, then circled and circled, watching for your weakness. I wasn’t giving him any information though.

I spun back around and made myself a smoothie. I poured way too many strawberries in with strawberry yogurt and added some strawberry syrup too. My smoothie didn’t have to be nutritious. It was feeding my mental health instead, right?

I let the machine whir as I stared out at the beach. One of the guys lifted his smoothie to me in a cheers motion and I smiled.

This was my town.

My beach.

My oasis. And no one could take that away.