Page 21 of Vow to Corrupt You
“You’re mine simply because I wanted you.” I lower my lips to her ear, “And I never let go of what’s mine.”
CHAPTER 11
Serena
His voice sounds like a threat. In a way, I know it is. I feel trapped. I am trapped in this marriage. I spoke my vows and bound myself to him in God’s eyes. Though already stained, our bond is sacred. Real. Today, it became real. The dire reality of my situation hits me like a ton of bricks. I am now wedded to a man whose voice alone fills me with dread. I am stuck in a life I never wanted, but am now forced to endure. The kiss we shared was searing. The taste of our mingled blood sickening. The mere touch of his lips is painful, like the needle inking his name on my collarbone. The glint in his eyes screams possession. I can practically feel his gaze dissecting me, calculating how best to manipulate me for his own entertainment. For his own twisted satisfaction. It’s suffocating as if I’m being buried alive. I need air, or else I’ll choke on his distorted superiority and delusional arrogance.
“Am I allowed to use the ladies’ room?” It’s infuriating that I have to stoop to asking permission for something as basic as tending to a basic need.
His mouth tilts with a hint of smugness as if it’s amusing. Of course, it is. To him. I’m sure he’s satisfied to see the power he holds over me, but as long as my loved ones are safe, that’s all I care about.
“No need to ask, wicked one. You’re my wife, and my wife doesn’t need permission to do whatever she pleases. Especially not something as primal as that.”
My brow twitches involuntarily. I wouldn’t be so sure about that.
“But be quick,” he adds, fighting this signature smirk of his that is driving me insane. “I have something planned for you.”
Oh, I simply can’t wait to see what brilliant scheme his twisted mind has cooked up this time. If he believes he can win me over with this extravagant wedding—set among classical sculptures and thousands of fresh flowers, a world-renowned orchestra playing live, and a menu curated by Michelin-starred chefs, where guests are greeted with engraved Bulgari bracelets—he’s in for a rude awakening.
I force a tight-lipped smile and nod before turning to leave. My eyes roll inwardly as I head to the ladies’ room. I wonder if it would be possible to just flush myself down the toilet. Even that seems to be a better option than spending the rest of my life as his plaything.
Reflexively, my gaze lands on a familiar face. Cold chills course through my entire body, leaving my skin prickling and heart hammering. Claudio.
“Mrs. Romano,” he taunts, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair as he approaches me. I feel sorry seeing him like this. I know it’s not that he can’t walk. It’s a result of… what Nikos has done to him that fateful night. What he has done because of me. My stupid rebellion. And knowing the circumstances that led to this, I simply can’t help but feel guilty. At the same time, his sight, the sinister grin on his face, freezes every inch of my body. What is he doing at my wedding reception?
“Aren’t you happy to see me, baby?”
“What are you doing here?” I stand rooted, unable to move as his presence has anchored me in place. The reception is being held outside the building, in the garden and pool area, so there are only the two of us here now.
“Your dear husband insisted I attend,” he spits out.
“What?” My heart skips a few beats. Why would Nikos want Claudio here? Much less, how in the world is Claudio not in a hospital somewhere if they cut off his—
Claudio’s head inclines. “He has taken everything from me, Serena. My dignity, my honor, you.” The way he runs his finger up the sheer sleeves of my dress, following the embellished grid pattern, freezes my veins. “It still wasn’t enough. Now he forces me to watch him claim you.”
I’m tempted to tell him he got what he deserved for cheating, but instead, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
His fists clench so hard I catch a glimpse of his whitening knuckles. “I’ll get my revenge. I won’t rest until he pays for what he’s done to me.”
Fear gnaws at my chest. “Don’t. You’ll only make things worse for yourself. Haven’t you seen everything that he’s capable of?” Cheater or not, I don’t want people dead. Not because of me. “I’m warning you, Claudio. For your own good, let it go.”
“He has stripped me of everything,” he grits his teeth so hard I can hear the unpleasant grinding. “All that I have left is my desire for vengeance. Eye for an eye.”
Not waiting for my response, he wheels past me, leaving me with his threat hanging over my head like a stormy cloud I must hide from.
I dash to the restroom and lean over the marble countertop for support. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, the face that stares back at me seems unfamiliar. Like not only has my last name changed, but something in me has changed also.
“Serena?”
Startled, I turn to the side to see my cousin Chiara. Her feminine features and cheerful whiskey eyes flood me with relief.
“I’m so happy I finally caught you,” she says with so much warmth it nearly lightens my mood. Chiara and I are practically the same age, and we pretty much grew up together. Our dads were brothers, but Chiara’s dad, Uncle Bruno, passed away from a heart attack when she was just a year old. My parents, then my father all by himself, helped out a lot, especially since Aunt Sofie spent a ton of time with Domenico, Chiara’s older brother, and her at our place in Cefalù, then here in Palermo. Eventually, Aunt Sofie wanted to head back to Norway, where she’s from, but by then, Domenico was already mixed up with the Romano Mafia and didn’t want to leave. Chiara used to spend every summer in Norway with her mom, but during the school year, they were back in Palermo. We even enrolled in a sculpture course together at the Accademia di Belle Arti di Palermo and were about to return for our senior year, which starts in a week. Were. Now, I’m not sure I’m still allowed to go back to university and get a degree. That’s not exactly what men in the Mafia environment expect from their wives.
“You look like a goddess!” she beams.
“You look stunning in that dress, too. This shade of green suits you.” I try to avoid discussing anything related to my wedding, or the fact that I am the bride today. That’s why I escaped to the ladies’ room in the first place—to forget, even for a short while. “Is Aric here, too?”
“Yes, he’s here,” Chiara replies, gleaming at the mention of his name. Aric, her boyfriend, is the heir to the Vold clan in Norway’s Mafia. Chiara met him while staying with her mom in Norway. His reputation precedes him, much like the men in our world, but Chiara’s eyes always light up like little fireflies when she talks about him. I can’t say the same for myself when I see Nikos.
