Page 23 of Deceptive Vows
I turned my attention to him and extended my hand. This man would understand a gentleman’s agreement. “I do not break my promises. If I do, I will come here and allow you to take your revenge.”
His eyes narrowed for a second before shaking my hand. “I’ll hold you to that.” A smile stretched across his face. “Now, for the ring. I’ve been holding onto this since you were a teenager.”
Thea gasped. “What?”
He lifted both hands, chuckling. “I made this long ago. When you got engaged, I wanted your ring to be something to reflect how special you are.”
“Mr. Marcello, you didn’t need to do that…”
“Need, need, need. I wanted to do it! Isabella helped!” He toddled off into the back of the store. “I just hope you love it!”
She palmed her cheeks. “I can’tbelieve he did this.”
I knew the moment our eyes met in the club that she was special. “I can. He loves you.”
“He and Isabella were like a second family to me. When Gianna had ballet class, I’d come here. He had the best stories, and I loved listening to him.”
“No ballet for you?” With her long legs, it wasn’t hard to imagine her gliding across a stage in pointe shoes.
She waved a hand. “Oh, no. I took a few classes and quickly discovered I didn’t like it. It was too frilly for me.”
I chuckled. “Ah. Knives were more your style.”
Her head cocked to the side as her lips broke out into a wide smile. “Exactly.”
Never had I been struck with such a strong desire to pull a woman into my arms and kiss her as I did right then. I didn’t believe in fate, but I’d fallen victim to it. Before this plan was over, this woman would own my heart. That terrified me more than any war I’d survived.
Chapter Eight
THEA
Pa wasthe first man to show me how a real father loved, and Mr. Marcello was the second. They were shining examples of what real men should be. The way they loved me gave me a standard no one had measured up to yet.
I smiled. “I…”
“Was your Pa okay with you trading in your ballet shoes for weapons?” Nazar leaned forward slightly, his eyes intent on my face. Something in his expression, a gentle curiosity mixed with understanding, caught me off guard. His head tilted just a fraction, as if he was piecing together another part of my puzzle. The way hewatched me, completely present and focused, made me feel both exposed and strangely comforted.
But in the next moment, I was back sitting in Pa’s study with him staring down at me after he’d caught me with Ari’s throwing stars. I was sure he was going to be angry.
“Pa, I don’t like ballet.” By then, calling Andros, Pa, was as natural as breathing. I'd never felt so loved, so wanted as with Ma and Pa. Sometimes, I even forgot to be worried that I could mess things up.
I’d confessed to Ma during class when she saw me half-heartedly participating. All the girls were so girly. I’d grown up in the streets.
Street trash. Alley rat. Dirty. Unworthy.
One girl was especially feminine. Looking at herself in the mirror, prancing around. Anna. She was pretty, and maybe there was a thimble of jealousy.
“Kardoula mou.”
My little heart.He’d begun calling me that a few weeks after I joined the family. I smiled.
“I’m sorry, Pa. I’ll go back. I won’t complain. I promise. Please…” I choked. “Please don’t make me leave. I’ll be…”
For six whole months, I’d had a roof over my head and plenty to eat. Calling Lisbet andAndros, Ma and Pa, was a recent development, but I so loved them. They’d been wonderful to me.
Alley rat. But to them, I wasn’t. They called me their little heart.
Pa squatted down, taking me in his arms. “Kardoula mou, I would never make you leave. Ballet is just a class. Is there something else you’d like to do?”
