Page 54 of Deceptive Vows
“I’m so sorry. I had a call.”
Claire leaned over. “Is everything okay?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’ll tell you after we leave.”
“All right.”
I turned my attention to the baker. “I was wondering if you would be comfortable baking Russian tea cakes. My fiancé is Russian, and I think it would be nice to have fresh ones baked to go along with the wedding cake.”
The woman grinned. “Of course. I’ve actually done those a few times, and I’ve had great reviews. I could?—”
“Your cake is delicious. If they are anywhere near that quality, I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
The doorbell chimed, and two women entered the shop.
“I’m so sorry. Go ahead and begin tasting, and I’ll be right back.”
Aunt Helen held my gaze, her lips set in a thin line. If we weren’t in public, I’m not sure she wouldn’t have been takingme by the ear. “You picked black card stock—for a wedding?” She mumbled under her breath before glaring at me and ranting in Greek. “Thea Kalantzis, your mother…” She stopped short and inhaled, seemingly trying to calm herself. “What would you have picked had Lisbet been with you?”
The invitations I’d picked out were tasteful and elegant. I didn’t like clutter or anything messy, so I went with silver lettering against black cardstock. They fit my personality while allowing me to poke fun at the idea of actually getting married.
It was hysterical until Claire divulged that detail to my Aunt Helen as she joined us for the cake testing. She’d missed the last two and had threatened me with harm if she missed this one, despite her wishes that I help her with her diet.
“The chocolate cake is delicious, right?” I smiled.
“Thea…”
I reached across the small table near the back of the baker’s shop, covering her hand with mine. “This is an arranged marriage. I’m trying to make the best of a situation that I never thought I’d find myself in. Be honest. It fits my style, no?”
Sadly, I spent the last two weeks and four dayswithout seeing much of Nazar. Between the Gray Wolves attacking Krysha’s infrastructure in New York and Marco’s demand for attention, he’d be gone when I woke up or locked in his room.
I’d found myself feeling lonely in that large penthouse. Of course, I wasn’t upset with him. He had a duty to Pasha and Krysha. Plus, our only chance of finding those women was making Marco think he was playing along and following the plan.
“Yes, it does, but this is a wedding. It’s supposed to be joyful and bright. I know that being forced to marry isn’t ideal, but there is a chance it could turn into something wonderful. Andros’s marriage to your mother was arranged, and look how that worked out for them.”
“I didn’t… I didn’t know that.” And I thought I knew everything about them. “They never told me that.”
“By the time Lucas arrived, they were so in love it didn’t matter anymore.” She smiled, a soft chuckle escaping. “My sister was beside herself when Papa told her she’d be marrying Andros. She was headstrong and insistent on making her own choices. But Papa and Andros’s father threw this extravagantparty, and the moment Andros walked in, every woman in the room fell silent.
I rolled my lips in, smiling and holding back tears at the same time. I’d loved–still loved–them so much.
“He was a gorgeous man. Even as a child, I saw how women looked at him, but he never saw them. Ma was the only woman who ever drew his attention.”
Lucas saved me. I loved and respected him… as a brother. But Pa... Andros. He made me believe I was worth saving. I never thought a man could mean as much to me as he did.
I was fourteen, burning with a fever that had refused to break for days. Ma had been with me constantly until Pa returned home and insisted she get some rest.
The bed dipped as Pa sat beside me, his large, calloused hand—cool against my burning skin—gently pushing damp hair from my forehead. “I wish I could take this from you, little one.” His voice was rough with worry.
I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s okay, Pa.”
He said nothing for a moment, just dragged the fan closer, then dipped a rag into the bowl of iced water. “I just wish I could do something more,” he whispered, carefully laying the cloth across my forehead.
Through the night, I drifted in and out of consciousness.Sometimes, I woke to him reading to me from my favorite book. Sometimes, just sitting next to me, watching me. Other times, I’d fall asleep to him telling me about his day at work.
On the third day, when my fever finally broke, I awoke, hearing him murmuring. When I peeked, I found him slumped in the chair beside my bed, head bowed, whispering thanks to whatever saints had watched over his little girl.
He never knew I was awake to see that moment of vulnerability, that pure love. It was the first time I understood that strength wasn’t about being tough. It was about caring for the people I loved. Sticking by them when it wasn’t easy.
