Page 7 of Of Vows and Betrayal

From the corner of my eye, I see my father standing at the end of the path, his hands folded in front of him, his head bowed in what seems like penance. I’m not sure what he is doing or what he is trying to atone for, and I’m not sure I want to know.

I turn my head and rest it against the cool granite, closing my eyes. “I was so scared, Mom. I’m so scared. I—I need you here. I need you with me. I miss you so much.” The pent-up emotions of the day break free, and I start sobbing, my cries echoing in the stillness of the cemetery. I cry until I have no more tears left, and by the time my sobs subside, night has fully fallen.

Chapter 3

Javier

Ostentatious.

I nearly roll my eyes as I stand in the overly luxurious office. From the plush burgundy carpet to the crystal chandelier overhead, everything screams of excess wealth.

I check my watch, annoyed. He wanted me here at three. Though I hesitated to step onto his territory, I knew exactly why I had to be here. He wouldn’t allow me to see her otherwise.Ophelia.

Despite my distaste for the man keeping me waiting, my concern for her surged after seeing her bleed. It triggered something protective deep within me.

Glancing at my watch again—three thirty—I’m certain he’s observing me right now through cameras, probably gauging my patience. Well, my patience has evaporated, and he’d better understand that I’m not at his mercy.

Shaking my head, I grab my coat from the back of the chair. I’m done. Just as I turn to leave, the door opens, and there he stands, phone in hand—probably just outside all along.

“Were you leaving?” He doesn’t bother with an apology. It’s a sign of weakness for men like him, even if it’s just basic human decency.

“I value my time, and I’m not here to stand around like decoration.”

His nostrils flare—the only sign of irritation—as he brushes past me to his desk.

“Is that right? Javier Vargas, head of security for Synco Securities,” he states, as if expecting me to be surprised.

I anticipated this. “I’ve done my homework,” he asserts.

“Me too.”

He gestures to the seat across from his desk, but I remain standing.

“How is your daughter doing?” I ask, ignoring his invitation.

He leans back, dismissing my question. “How did you know my daughter was in danger? Why were you watching her?”

I let out a derisive snort. “I wasn’t watching her. I was mocking your goons who couldn’t have been more obvious if they tried.” Honestly, they were so inept it was almost comical.

His face reddens slightly, clearly still vexed by his men’s performance.

“They looked so stereotypical; they were busy playing tough and missed the actual threat. You should be thanking me for spotting it instead of questioning my motives.”

He puts his fingers together and rests his chin on his fingertips, looking contemplative. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” I point to myself in disbelief. “I’mhere becauseyousummonedme, not the other way around.” I throw my hands up in resignation. “I think I’ll leave now.”

“Thank you,” he says just as my hand touches the doorknob, and I freeze. Gratitude doesn’t seem to come easily to him.

I turn back, one eyebrow arched in surprise.

“I want you to head my daughter’s security.”

Ah, there’s his angle. I shake my head. “Not interested.”

“I’ll pay you double what Synco is paying you.”

I scoff at the offer. “You can’t be serious.”

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