Lahat ng Kabanata ng These Reckless Vows: The Billoniare’s Bride: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Leonel ~~~ It’s 7 p.m. when I finally hear the main doors say, “WELCOME AVA,” telling me that Mi Valienta is home. I drop the paperwork I’d been filling out, knowing now that Ava is around, I’ll no longer be able to focus as clearly as I did when she was away and ignoring my concerns for her safety. Well, it’s a good thing she left for a little while. Right after she got to the park, something happened with the power, shutting everything down. I ordered my maid, Helen, to get in contact with my maintenance guy. He came in and fixed the problem, but that was three hours of work time lost. As if I needed something else to agitate me, my mother sent a reminder that she and my father will be here in two days. I’m not so mad about seeing my mother, but my father? Just the thought of being alone with him for any extended period of time makes me want to break something. Still, the visit is necessary. It’ll soon be time for our Sinclair Soirée, and this year my parents have the mad

Ava PRESENT ~~~ My mouth hangs wide open by the time Leonel finishes his story. I can tell it was not one he was proud to tell; his head of dark hair hung low, using the documents in front of him as a convenient distraction. “The lies she told about me only got worse by the time she left the mansion,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Suddenly, I had people calling me a drunk, even though I only drank on special occasions, and sometimes they painted this picture that made me seem violent—” “But you’re not!” I finally cut in. I’d let him talk for hours uninterrupted, but the itch to defend him finally broke through my silence. “You’ve only ever been violent when necessary. That’s bullshit!” He looked up at me finally, as if he was seeing me clearly for the first time. “You believe me?” This was an important question. There was the very real possibility Leonel Sinclair was lying to me, and had fabricated this whole story to get me on his side. But that’s the thing—S

Ava ~~~ Am I being watched?I pull up the pantyhose Evelyn suggested I wear to meet Sinclair’s parents and tighten my red hair into an unnaturally stiff bun. When I look in the mirror, I grimace.I don’t look bad, per se; I just don’t look like myself either. I think this pink suit and skirt with the pantyhose beneath it makes me look like an out-of-touch rich woman, the sort of woman mum would laugh at. My heart squeezes at the thought of her, and I fiddle with the green necklace I have to keep in my pocket ’cause I don’t think it’d go with the outfit.Still, all this is at the back of my mind because I could swear I’m being watched right now.“It’s just a paranoid feeling, Ava,” I tell myself. “How would anyone be watching you?”I hear a soft knock on my door that slices through my overthinking.“Who is it?” I yell in the direction of the knock.“Mi Valienta, are you ready?” the voice answers.Despite how anxious I feel, a smile finds its way to my face. Ever since Sinclair and I

Leonel~~~I should have never asked her to change.Not if I knew my fucking father would look at her like she was a piece of fine meat. Not if I knew he would stand to pull a seat for her beside him. Not if I knew my mother—my soft-spoken, gentle mother—would shoot daggers at Ava, her grip tight on the champagne glass full of her third helping of wine.“Ava,” I grit out, right before she hesitantly sits in the chair my father pulled for her. They all look up at me, but it’s Ava’s confused green eyes I capture with mine.“Sit with me,” I command, leaving no room for argument. I see the urge to fight flash in her eyes, but whatever she sees in my grey ones stops her from throwing words at me.She smiles at my father politely, and in return, he bares a grin I know others will construe as charming, but I find deadly.“Sorry, Mr. Sinclair,” she says to my father gently, and my squeezed heart relaxes as she walks to me, my father looking like I slapped him.As Ava takes the seat beside me,

Ava ~~~ “Nicco Moretti,” Leonel murmurs for the sixth time, spiking irritation through me as we sort out the guest list for the soirée next week. We’re in the art room only because Leonel insisted we sort through our guests in the office, and I felt like rebelling. All his bemoaning about Nicco made me want to push back against him, so I said I’d only do it in the art room. Instead of fighting me, however, he came here with Evie and Oliver. And he did not stop complaining. “Of course my parents would make me co-host with damn Nicco Moretti,” he grumbles.Oliver turns to him. “They’re doing it because he’s popular, not because they know you hate him.” “I don’t hate him,” Leonel says far too quickly. I almost let out a chuckle, but then I remembered sourly that this has been his constant since his parents came three days ago. We even did a photoshoot the day after his parents left, and still, all Leonel could talk about was Nicco. “You sound like you hate him,” I murmur, crossi