Page 11 of Of Vows and Betrayal

“I’ve learned from my mistakes,” he replies softly.

“That’s not what I asked!” I snap, frustrated by his calm.

“And I gave you my answer. If you don’t understand, it’s because you’re not ready.”

“Why do I even come here?” I mutter, more to myself than him.

“Because we’re family.”

“Are we?” I challenge, fueled by his lack of anger.

“You know we are.”

“I’ll update you on my progress.”

“Just don’t be blinded by vengeance, Javier. Give the girl the benefit of the doubt.”

I nod noncommittally.

“God is with you.”

“I don’t need your God. He wasn’t there when I needed Him most.” I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “Thanks for the coffee and the sermon, Father. I’ll see myself out.”

As I leave, a frustrated rage burns inside me, surprising me with its intensity. I’m so consumed by it that I half expect the church to catch on fire as I make my way up the aisle to the exit.

Too angry to drive, I leave my car and walk down the quiet streets to my apartment. It’s quite a trek, but I need to blow off steam. Something that I usually do with a boxing match or a quick fuck, but that’s really the last thing on my mind.

By the time I reach my penthouse an hour later, I’m drenched in sweat and exhausted, but at least I’m not angry anymore.

I step into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, trying to soothe the residual frustration. Ophelia Bergotti—barely into my life and already a thorn in my side.

“Just a couple of months, and it will all be done,” Imutter to myself as the steam fills the room. “I’ll see the Bergottis fall, and if the daughter falls with them, so be it.”

Destruction is never clean, and it’s something I made my peace with a long time ago.

But then Tiago’s voice echoes in my mind, taunting me.Have you really made peace with it? Then why can’t you stop thinking about her smile, about her eyes, and about how your skin felt when you touched her?

I slam my hand against the tiles of the shower. “Enough!” I roar, the sound echoing off the walls.

Vengeance is a consuming fire, devouring all in its path—guilty and innocent alike. But I’ll gladly watch it burn, even if I stand alone in the ashes of collateral damage.

Chapter 4

Ophelia

I’m really shaken as Javier leaves my garden. His name alone—Javier Vargas—commands a certain authority. And his presence… Jesus. I thought perhaps I had exaggerated his impressiveness in my mind because he saved me, but I was wrong. He’s even more striking than I remembered. Tall and broad, he’s a mountain of a man, and his dark hair, coupled with those penetrating hazel eyes, seem to see right into my soul.

His physique makes him the ideal bodyguard, but every time I see him, butterflies flutter in my stomach. How can I focus on anything when he’s always so close? Worse, I’m uneasy about the possibility that my father might have coerced my Good Samaritan into working for us. The thought is disturbing and makes me question everything.

I sigh, deciding to confront my father. I know he thinks he’s helping by finding me a new bodyguard so I’m not confined to the house, but the idea of imposing on someone else’s life feels even more unbearable.

I head toward his office, the weight of my decisionpressing down on me. As I walk, the hallways of our large house seem to close in, reflecting my growing apprehension.

Approaching the heavy oak door, I pause, gathering my thoughts. My hand hesitates at the handle. I can hear the low rumble of my father’s voice on the other side, no doubt conducting yet another one of his business calls that seem to dictate the rhythm of our lives.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open. My father looks up, a mix of surprise and irritation crossing his features. “Ophelia, what is it now?”

“Dad, we need to talk about Javier Vargas,” I begin, trying to keep my voice steady.

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