Page 86 of Of Vows and Betrayal

I turn toward him, exasperation finally getting the best of me. “Then what do I need to do? Stop talking in cryptic riddles and just tell me.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, man. I truly don’t. I’m not asking, and she won’t say, but I know her and—” He waves his hand. “Ah, what do I know? I’m eternally single, right?”

There’s a lot to unpack thereand a lot that’s untrue. He’s not the eternally single one—he’s the eternally broken one, and I hate the world on his behalf sometimes. Derek deserves love far more than I or even Tiago do. While Tiago has the love of his congregation and a pretend God, I’m fighting for mine. But Derek—Derek is fighting every day just to avoid drowning in self-loathing.

I don’t say anything. We have only a few seconds before reaching the parking level, so I do something uncommon that I know makes him uncomfortable. I hug him tight—he stays frozen, but I don’t care. I hug him until the elevator beeps and the doors open.

“I love you, man,” I tell him before running to my car and breaking all speed limits to make it to the club’s back alley in less than twenty minutes.

When I walk to the back door of the club, the bouncer opens it with a smirk before I even get a chance to speak. I’m sure my wife made an impression on them. My wife… Despite the way it came to be, even if neither of us had our say in it, that’s how I see her—my wife.

I head down a corridor that is becoming uncomfortably familiar, and the guard at the end nods. “Boss’s been waiting for you.”

He opens the door, and when I see Ophelia safe and sound despite her murderous scowl, the weight on my chest eases, and I feel like I can finally take full breaths again.

“Javier, what a pleasure!” Lucchese takes a puff of his cigar. “You know, that wife of yours has been glaring at me nonstop for the last twenty minutes. That’s quite an achievement. Well—he cocks his head to the side—“it’s probablybecause anyone else would already have their eyes gouged out, but you know”—he shrugs—“I’m feeling charitable.”

Charitable.I’m sure he has no idea what that word means.

I let out a long exhale before turning to Ophelia, who, God have mercy, is still glaring at Lucchese. “I told you not to see him,” I bark, hoping to direct her gaze at me.

Mission accomplished because if her glare was hostile before, it’s purely murderous now that her green eyes are on me. “And I told you I was going to speak to him anyway.”

“And how did that go for you, huh?” I know I’m adding fuel to the fire, but I just can’t help it.

Lucchese laughs. “It didn’t go that well, hence the death glare. Isn’t that right, little lady?”

She ignores him. “He doesn’t want to help me.”

“Well, that’s notentirelytrue.” He rests his cigar in the ashtray. “I asked her what she had to offer. She quickly replied, ‘Not sex,’ which is a blessing for everyone as it helped avoid another awkward conversation.” He looks my way. “She isn’t worth as much as you are.”

I can’t help but snort. If he truly thinks that, then he’s a fool. Sure, this is not the best version of Ophelia—she’s hurting and angry and wants to set the whole world on fire even if it consumes her with it—but even on her worst days, she’s so much better than I’ll ever be.

“Come on, let’s go,” I tell her, jerking my head toward the door.

She huffs but stands up. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

He simply nods. “One more thing,” he says just asOphelia reaches my side.

I knew it was too good to be true. I turn back slowly. “Yes?”

“I’m going to give you the warning because she’s too self-destructive to listen.” He points at Ophelia. “I felt lenient today, but I don’t deal well with disrespect. Maybe put a leash on her because it may not go that well next time.”

I purse my lips but nod. I hate giving in, and my hand twitches to reach for my gun, but I know his reputation. I’m certain I’d be dead on the floor before I even got my gun out.

“She won’t be back. Will you, Ophelia?”

“What’s the point?” she replies and turns her back, striding down the hall.

“I wish you luck and an infinite well of patience. You’re going to need it,” he says, and for once, he and I agree.

When I get outside, I expect to have to run after her, but she’s waiting by my car, suspiciously docile. I beep the door open and take my seat, waiting for her to join me. It takes a couple of minutes; I’m not sure what’s going through her head, but she finally gets in.

I start the car and, for once, don’t mind the silence. I’m not sure what I’ll do anymore, and this may just be my last chance.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I head toward East Harlem.

“I have something for you.”

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