Page 57 of Deceptive Vows
In the dressing room, as I slipped the gown over my head, the soft fabric fell into place like it had been made for me. When I stepped out, the collective gasp from my family told me everything.
“Oh, Thea,” Anna whispered.
Claire’s eyes glistened. “You look...”
“Like a bride,” Aunt Helen finished, her voice thick with emotion.
I turned to face the mirror, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The gown was ivory silk that cascaded down my body like water, the delicate lace creating an ethereal effect I hadn’t expected to love. The open back added just enough drama, while the train swept behind me with quiet elegance.
It was perfect. Exactly what I would have chosen if this were real.
“Thea?” Aunt Helen stepped closer, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “What do you think, my darling?”
The tenderness in her voice nearly broke me. She’d been there for me after we lost Ma, had stepped in to fill that void as best she could. I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.
“It’s beautiful,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.
“It’s the one,” Shanna declared with confidence.
I nodded, unable to explain the tightness in my chest. This was just pretend. A charade. A means to an end.
So why did I suddenly wish, more than anything, that Nazar could see me in this dress? That his eyes would darken the way they did when he looked at me sometimes, like I was the only woman in the world?
“I’ll take it.” I tried to sound practical rather than emotional.
As I changed back into my clothes, I drew a deep breath, pushing down thetangled mess of feelings. “Let’s get this over with,” I whispered to my reflection.
Maybe if I said it enough, I’d believe it.
Chapter Twenty
NAZAR
“The auction is onlytwo weeks away. Everything needs to be perfect.” Marco’s voice grated on my nerves as his face filled my laptop screen.
Snow had begun to fall outside my temporary office window, soft flakes collecting on the sill. Chicago in December could be beautiful, but all I felt was a growing chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
“Construction is on schedule.” I kept my voice even, scrolling through photos of the renovated theater on my tablet. “The stage has been modified, backstage areassealed off for proper security. We’ll begin testing access protocols by the end of the week.”
He leaned forward, eyes sharp. “And the girls?”
My jaw tightened. After two weeks of meetings like this, I still had to force myself not to react. “I need their arrival schedule to finalize security. When will they be on-site?”
Marco’s expression shifted, a flash of wariness crossing his features before he settled back into his chair. “That’s being handled. You focus on the venue.”
“To properly secure the merchandise, I need to know transportation details.” I maintained eye contact, my tone professional but insistent. “Numbers, timing, routes.”
“You’ll get what you need when you need it.” Marco’s tone closed the subject. He picked up a crystal tumbler, swirling amber liquid. “Ten total. That’s all you need to know for now.”
The deliberate withholding of information confirmed my suspicions. Marco was keeping me in the dark, compartmentalizing the operation. Someone else was handling the women—almost certainly the Gray Wolves.
Marco had commanded all of my time sincethat night Thea, her brothers, and I had broken into the warehouse where the empty cages were. Luckily for me, he was unable to identify the individual who knocked their guard out. That luck didn’t extend to the guard, and after three days of interrogation, one of Marco’s men ended the man’s life.
At first, I had an uneasy feeling that maybe Marco suspected it was me, but I’d eventually attributed it to paranoia. It was too dark for anyone to really know who was in that warehouse, and there was no recognition in the man’s eyes when I finally arrived at the building where he was being held.
“High-end clientele want variety,” he continued after a moment. “Young, beautiful. One’s a ballerina—she’ll fetch a premium.”
I thought of Thea and how she’d rejected ballet as a child. The stark contrast between her freedom to choose and these women’s stolen lives made my blood boil. With practiced control, I kept my expression neutral, nodding as if we were discussing livestock instead of human beings.
