Vows of Enmity

Chapter 1: The Glass Menagerie

The silk of the tuxedo felt like a noose, even if it was custom-tailored to fit every line of Adrian Hollingsworth’s frame. He stared into the vanity mirror, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted his onyx cufflinks. The reflection staring back was a masterpiece of old-money refinement, but behind the eyes, there was only a simmering, breathless dread.

"You’re overthinking the tie, Adrian. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Now, let’s go before the press starts wondering if the groom’s son has cold feet on behalf of his father."

Adrian didn't turn around. He could see Lawrence Redfield’s reflection leaning against the doorframe, checking his gold watch with a frown.

"It’s not my wedding, Dad. It’s a merger with a guest list," Adrian said, his voice flat.

"Same thing in our world, kid. You know that. Just keep that 'Hollingsworth charm' switched on for another three hours. Can you do that for me?"

Adrian finally turned, his expression a mask of bored indifference. "I’ve been doing it for twenty-four years. What’s another three hours?"

"That’s my boy. And listen—try to be extra nice to the Wexfords. Especially Theodore. I know you two had your... disagreements back in the day, but we need them. This deal doesn't happen without their signature."

Adrian felt a sharp, cold spike in his chest at the mention of the name. "Disagreements? That’s what we’re calling it now?"

"Whatever it was, bury it. Deep," Lawrence said, patting Adrian’s shoulder with a heavy hand. "Theodore’s been in London for five years. He’s different now. He’s the one running the show for them. Just... play nice, okay? For the family."

"I’ll be a goddamn saint," Adrian muttered, watching his father walk out.

The gala was a sea of champagne flutes and forced laughter. The air was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and even more expensive perfume. Adrian moved through the crowd like a ghost in a well-fitted suit, nodding where he had to, smiling when a camera flashed, but his eyes were constantly scanning. He felt like prey waiting for the predator to show its face.

He was reaching for a glass of scotch from a passing tray when a voice, low and smooth like aged bourbon, vibrated right against the shell of his ear.

"You still drink that cheap stuff when you're stressed, or is that just for show?"

Adrian froze. He didn't even have to turn around to know the scent—sandalwood, rain, and something metallic that reminded him of blood. Theodore Wexford.

Adrian took a slow sip of the scotch, feeling the burn in his throat before he turned. Theodore looked devastating. His dark hair was swept back, a few stray strands grazing a forehead that had seen too much sun in Europe. His eyes were the same—dark, predatory, and currently stripping Adrian bare.

"Theodore," Adrian said, his voice remarkably steady despite his heart hammering against his ribs. "I heard you were back. I figured you’d be too busy buying up real estate to show up to a party this tacky."

Theodore grinned, and it wasn't a friendly gesture. It was a flash of teeth. "And miss seeing you in a suit that looks like it's holding you together by a thread? Not a chance, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," Adrian snapped, his eyes flashing.

"Why not? You used to love it when I whispered it while I had you pinned against—"

"Shut up, Theo. That was a lifetime ago. We’re adults now. We’re business partners, apparently."

Theodore stepped closer, invading Adrian’s personal space until their chests were inches apart. The height difference was subtle, but Theodore always knew how to make himself feel like a mountain.

"Is that what we are? Business partners? You look like you want to kill me, Adrian. Or maybe you just want to throw that drink in my face and see if I’ll lick it off. Which one is it tonight?"

"It’s the one where I walk away from you," Adrian said, turning on his heel.

He didn't get far. He felt Theodore’s presence right behind him, a heavy shadow that followed him through the ballroom. Adrian made a beeline for the VIP lounge, a smaller, dimly lit room reserved for the inner circle. It was empty, the heavy oak doors muffling the roar of the gala outside.

He barely had time to set his glass down before the door clicked shut and a hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him around. Theodore shoved him back against the mahogany wall, his body pinning Adrian’s hips.

"Hey! Get off me!" Adrian hissed, though his hands instinctively went to Theodore’s lapels.

"Make me," Theodore challenged, his voice dropping to a gravelly hum. "You’ve been avoiding my calls for a month, Adrian. You thought you could just wait for the wedding and hide behind your daddy?"

"I don't owe you anything, Theo. Especially not my time."

"You owe me everything," Theodore said, his hand sliding up from Adrian’s shoulder to his neck, his thumb grazing the line of Adrian’s jaw. "Five years, and you still have that same look. Like you're better than everyone else. Like you're so pure."

Adrian’s breath hitched. "I’m not... I’m not doing this with you. Not here."

"Oh, we’re doing it. Look at you. You’re shaking. Is it hate, Adrian? Or is it because it’s been five years since anyone touched you like they actually knew what was under that expensive shirt?"

Theodore leaned in, his lips brushing against Adrian’s ear. The heat coming off him was suffocating. Adrian felt his knees go weak, his body traitorously reacting to the man he was supposed to loathe.

"You're a prick," Adrian whispered, his fingers tightening on Theodore’s jacket.

"I’m a Wexford. We’re all pricks. But I’m the only one who knows exactly how to make you make those pathetic little sounds you try so hard to hide."

Theodore’s other hand wandered down, gripping Adrian’s waist with bruising force. He pressed his thigh between Adrian’s legs, a blatant, heavy pressure that made Adrian gasp.

"Stop it," Adrian pleaded, though his head tilted back, exposing his throat.

"You say 'stop' but your body is screaming 'please,'" Theodore murmured. He nipped at the sensitive skin of Adrian’s neck, right over the pulse point. "I saw the way you looked at me out there. You were looking for me the second you walked in. Admit it."

"I was looking for the exit," Adrian lied, his voice breaking.

Theodore laughed, a dark, vibrating sound. He pulled back just enough to look Adrian in the eyes. His expression was no longer mocking; it was intense, focused, and terrifyingly hungry.

"The Hollingsworth name is so 'perfect,' isn't it? So clean. So respected. You spend your whole life trying to keep the polish on the silver."

"Someone has to," Adrian said, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "My father worked too hard for you to come in here and—"

"And what? Break it?" Theodore’s eyes darkened. He leaned in again, his nose brushing against Adrian’s. "That’s the plan, Adrian. I didn't come back to London for a merger. I didn't come back to play nice with your old man."

"Then why are you here?"

Theodore’s hand moved from Adrian’s neck, his fingers tangling in Adrian’s hair, pulling his head back until their eyes were locked. The sexual tension in the room was thick enough to choke on, a volatile mix of history and repressed desire.

"I’m here to ruin you," Theodore whispered, his breath hot against Adrian’s lips. "I’m going to take every little piece of perfection you’ve built up and I’m going to smash it. I’m going to break everything the Hollingsworths hold dear."

Adrian’s heart skipped a beat. "You’re crazy. You’ll ruin the deal. You’ll ruin yourself."

Theodore’s gaze dropped to Adrian’s mouth, his thumb tracing the lower lip until it popped inside, tasting the salt and the scotch. Adrian’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft, involuntary moan escaping him.

"I don't care about the deal," Theodore said, his voice a low, lethal promise. "I care about you. And I’m starting tonight. By the time I’m done with you, Adrian, you won't even remember your own name, let alone your father’s."

He leaned in closer, his lips a hair’s breadth from Adrian’s.

"Go back out there. Smile for the cameras. Play your part," Theodore commanded, his hand sliding down to squeeze Adrian’s thigh one last time before he stepped back, leaving Adrian cold and trembling against the wall. "But remember this: every time you look at your father tonight, every time you shake a hand, you’re going to feel me. And you're going to know that you're already mine."

Theodore turned and walked toward the door, his gait effortless and arrogant. He paused at the handle, looking back over his shoulder with a predatory smirk.

"Don't be late for the toast, sweetheart. I’d hate for people to wonder why you look so... disheveled."

The door clicked shut, leaving Adrian alone in the silence, his chest heaving and his skin on fire. He looked at his hands; they wouldn't stop shaking. He had expected a business merger, a boring night of social climbing. Instead, he had just been marked by the only man who knew exactly how to destroy him.