Page 20 of Hostile Vows
“Will you ever tell me who hurts you like this?”
My best friend tugs off his white helmet. Another gift from the wealthy Mad Mick Hennessy—his mafia grandfather. Static causes jet-black strands to land on his brow with chaotic flare.
I can’t ignore the warmth in my tummy when he brushes my cheek with the pads of his fingers, tracing the healing bruise on my sore cheekbone. “It’s still swollen.”
I’ve never felt this close to a boy before—to anyone. Or maybe this feeling is because I hate being touched.
It’s not that Mammy’s boyfriend touches me inappropriately; he just enjoys throwing his fists about. Which is every random time he visits her. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he’s messed up on a cocktail of drugs and alcohol. The last beating he gave me was after I’d caught him sniffing up rows of white powder on the coffee table.
Mammy has tried to stop him from barging over the threshold to torment us, except his temper is lethal and his bloodline the very same as her employer. We don’t stand a chance.
There’s nothing André can do to help me, especially when he looks up to the guy.
“It’s nothing, Dré,” I lie. “You said you wouldn’t talk about it.”
“I know.” He shrugs. “It’s just… I’ll cut up anyone who hurts you, Sin. I promise. I could sit outside your cottage and wait?”
“He doesn’t come every day. Sometimes it’s weeks.” I lie for my friend’s benefit. The longest we’ve been spared humiliation and pain is days. “So, please, just forget about him. Mammy said she’ll take care of it.”
“One day I’ll find out who it is, and when I do, he’ll deeply regret messing with my best friend.”
“You’re not a killer, Dré.”
His expression softens, and in a heartbeat, he flings his arms around my shoulders and squeezes. We stand there, hugging each other at our meeting spot under the big fairy tree as the golden sun disappears. “I’m a Souza and a Hennessy. It’s our way of life. Papá said killing is the only thing I’ll be good at.”
“That’s not true, Dré.”
He releases me, his fingers catching in the tangled lengths of my hair as it dances with the rainy wind. Messy damp strands stretch from him to me until there’s nothing keeping us together, only whispers of a promise. “You don’t have to be like them.”
“It’s in my blood. And when I’m old enough to have my own gun, I’ll shoot the coward who thinks it’s okay to hit you. That’s a promise.”
I blink a few times until the boyish face I recall so clearly morphs into an older version. Still every bit as handsome, except villainous intentions darken his features.
A gray-suited wedding officiant speaks eloquently, ignorant to the fact I’m not a willing participant. Not now. Not ever. The few failed relationships I’ve had turned out to be major disappointments. So, it’s not surprising that I’d end up coerced into tethering myself to a man with a monster living under his skin.
“I do.” André’s sonorous voice breaks the momentary silence and in the following hush, I realize it's my turn. His declaration sweeps through me like wildfire, tightening my chest with flaming ropes, and I struggle to breathe.
Little by little, regretful tremors grow stronger and the two words I’m expected to repeat stick in my throat like razor blades. I glance up at him from under my lashes, resentment clashing with intoxicating temptation. He stares right at me, his dark eyes and enigmatic expression my weakness and my downfall.
“Your turn, Sin,” he announces, swiping his thumb over his lower lip.
Adrenaline surges through me like a lethal shot of heroin. My stomach roils, causing me to sway. It’s either from starvation or the rebellious tingles showering my skin with goosebumps.
In a burst of energy, André circles my waist with large hands. Effortless strength secures me in place while he offers a subtle smile that throws me back in time again.
His cheek dimples behind a coarse short beard and moonlight cracks the bottomless depths of his eyes. It's a look that dares me to believe he’s not like the rest of these assholes. And then I realize this is how villains are made. He’s luring me into the darkness with an anchor attached to my heart. So, when I fall in, I’ll never be able to reach the surface.
I continue to quietly gaze up at him, forcing myself not to break eye contact, not even when Frankie says my name with a sharp bite. “Sinéad.”
My heart beats faster and I swallow to suppress the insane flutters in my empty stomach. It's unknown to me if they’re trying to escape the fire André has started within me or if it's intense fury from living under Frankie’s threat. Either way, I pull myself together and recite the binding words in a rushed breath. “I do.”
When my agreement drifts out in the open, there’s a noticeable change in André's face. His full lips twitch in a way that’s less inviting than it is provoking. The corners of his mouth curve upward to his eyes, his contagious grin almost impossible to resist. But I do. I bite my bottom lip and root my feet in place to show strength. There’s nothing to smile about.
The next thing I know tattooed fingers slide a ring onto my wedding finger, sealing my fate with obsidian diamond encrusted gold. Suddenly I’m aware of movement again, how the tides tug at the yacht and gentle waves create a back and forth motion. André uncurls my fist and drops a matching wedding band into my palm.
“Nearly done.” He winks at me as a sea breeze agitates a lock of hair hooking his brow. This man would be the death of me. “Then we'll go home.”
“My home is in Ireland.”
