All Chapters of SHADOW OF VOW'S: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Alessia Moretti The soft clinking of porcelain cups and the subtle scent of vanilla-scented candles should have made the ambiance feel warm and inviting. But there was nothing warm about this room. Nothing inviting either—except maybe the way the wedding planner kept batting her overly mascaraed lashes at Nikolai Volkov.I hated her already.Her name was *Sienna Delacroix*, an award-winning wedding coordinator from Beverly Hills, apparently famous for orchestrating weddings so perfect they made Pinterest boards weep. According to her website, she believed in “creating fairytales, one vow at a time.”I had never believed in fairytales.And certainly not when mine began with blackmail, a forced engagement, and a fiancé who looked like he belonged in a mafia-themed Calvin Klein ad.“Alessia, darling,” Sienna purred, her voice sickly sweet. “You haven’t picked a wedding mood board yet. Romantic coastal or opulent vintage? I brought swatches.”“I pick neither,” I replied flatly, flipping

Alessia Moretti The drive from the university to Nikolai’s penthouse was a blur. My thoughts had been consumed by Marcello’s words, each one cutting deeper than the last. I hadn’t realized how much pain I had been hiding—how much I had been pretending to ignore. The way Marcello had looked at me, that desperation, that pleading… it was a reminder of a life I couldn’t escape, a past I couldn’t seem to shake.I’d never wanted to hurt Marcello. I cared for him, once. But the man I was now engaged to—Nikolai Volkov—had made it clear that there was no room for any other man in my life. And yet, here I was, still haunted by the ghost of the past.I barely even registered the tall, imposing building in front of me as the car came to a stop. I hadn’t even realized we’d reached the penthouse. All I could think about was the conversation with Marcello, how I felt like I was suffocating under the weight of my choices. Before I could gather my thoughts, the door opened, and there he stood—Nikol

Nikolai Volkov The sound of clinking metal and cabinet doors slamming shut pulled me from my half-sleep. At first, I ignored it, assuming one of the staff was handling something in the kitchen. But then came the muffled curse, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a teaspoon being hurled across the room. I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face. It was nearly midnight. Who the hell was making this much noise? Pushing off the bed, I grabbed the gun from my nightstand—habit—and made my way downstairs, my footsteps silent against the polished floors. The moment I reached the entrance of the kitchen, I stopped. There, standing in front of the open pantry, was Alessia. In nothing but silk shorts and a matching top that barely qualified as clothing. I tightened my grip on the doorframe. Her back was to me as she rummaged through the shelves, her hair slightly tousled, probably from sleep. The shorts sat dangerously low on her hips, and the top—if it could even be

Alessia Moretti The car ride back to the manor was suffocating. I sat in the backseat, arms crossed, my reflection in the tinted window barely recognizable. The wedding dress fitting had been a disaster. Not because of the dresses themselves, but because, for a fleeting second, I had let something unthinkable creep into my mind. I had almost felt like a bride. It made me sick. Nikolai sat beside me, annoyingly relaxed, as if today had been nothing more than another business deal. His phone was in his hand, thumb scrolling absently over the screen, but I knew he wasn’t really focused on it. He was watching me. Waiting. Predictable. “So,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or should I start guessing?” I didn’t bother turning my head. “You? Guessing? That’s a first.” His lips twitched. “Fine. Let’s see… You’re brooding, which isn’t unusual. But this is different. More dramatic.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please enlighten me, Dr. Vo

The reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. I smoothed my hands over the deep red silk of my gown, the fabric clinging to my curves like a second skin. The slit along my leg was scandalously high, a calculated choice. If I was going to suffer through an entire evening in the company of power-hungry criminals, I might as well look like a queen while doing it. Behind me, Nikolai watched in silence. I could feel his gaze, sharp and burning, raking over my body like a physical touch. I hadn't heard him arrive and I noticed that he hadn't taken his eyes off me since he arrived. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start to think you actually like what you see,” I said, tilting my head with a smirk. His jaw tensed slightly, but his lips curled into something wicked. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here.” His words sent a strange thrill down my spine, one I refused to acknowledge. Instead, I turned back to my reflection, adjusting the delicate strap of m