Page 3 of Vows of Silence

Everything was here, all wrapped up in one big, beautiful bow.

And yet, one business deal had ruined everything.

The house no longer felt like a haven. It felt like hell. A maximum-security prison for a crime I hadn’t committed—other than being born female.

“Just put it in the corner!” my mother snapped, bringing my attention back to her.

“What is all of this?” I asked her, slowly walking back over to her and the chaos, warily eyeing up my bed as it slowly became a dumping ground for all the evening dresses.

“Adrien has pushed forward the engagement party,” she announced with a huff. “No, not that one,” she said, directing her words at one of the maids as she pushed away one of the belts being handed to her.

“Why?” I asked, narrowly dodging a maid carrying a large box, ducking down just in time as she carried it above my head and over to the floor-length mirror.

“Why does that man do anything?” my mother replied with a snap. “He says he has a business meeting in Belarus the following week that he simply cannot miss. I’d argue that he has double booked, and should have told everyone he was busy rather than making us the second option, but what do I know?”

“And bringing it forward made more sense than… Oh, I don’t know, postponing?”

“Postponing?” my mother said, dropping what she was holding and standing tall, turning to face me. “Isabelle, you shouldn’t even joke about such things!” For a brief moment, her face had paled, her hands wringing in front of her, wrinkling the silken material she had been holding.

Then, with her hands trembling, she threw the scrap of material on my bed, smoothed down her dress and rushed over to the en-suite bathroom, effectively ending the conversation.

As if that would work on me. I knew she was hiding something. Being watched has that effect on someone—you learn to see what others don’t always want you to see. You become more observant, almost more sneaky.

So why had the thought of postponing the engagement party made her so scared?

There was no point asking her. She would wave me away and tell me I was being silly. My mother may slip up sometimes, but she never needed long to compose herself. Her little blip a second ago would be long forgotten by now.

I had no choice but to ask him again, even though we had discussed this thousands of times before.

I grabbed my phone off the bed, just in time before it was covered in silk, and fired off a text.

Isabelle:What do you know of Adrien Vescari?

Luca:Other than he’s a dead man? Other than he’s a pathetic piece of shit who needed to order himself a child bride?

I rolled my eyes. That was far more of a dramatic response than I was used to.

Isabelle:I’m not a child.

Luca: You are compared to him! He’s thirty-five!

Isabelle:You’re thirty. And we’ve done far more than me and Adrien have…

Luca:Really, Isabelle? Really? You’re going to compare me to that piece of shit? Because I can assure you, I have never had to force a woman into marriage before. Nor would I want to. And not only is he forcing you, he’s doing it so quickly you don’t have time to change your mind! Why else would he bring it forward?

Ahh.

Luca was watching the cameras. Naturally.

Isabelle: I’m not being forced.

Luca:Oh, no, of course you’re not. I completely misunderstood last week when you spent an hour crying on the phone and demanded I come rescue you and take you away.

Isabelle:That was the week of my period. It’s really unfair to hold someone’s hormones against them.

Luca:It’s also really unfair to force a twenty-one-year-old to marry a man almost twice her age.

Well… he had me there.