All Chapters of Bound By Blood And Vows.: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I all but run up the stairs, barely holding it together until I slam the bedroom door shut behind me. The lock clicks under my hand like it’s a seal holding everything in. Or maybe locking everything out. My breath hitches. I don’t cry. Not yet. Not when there’s still too much confusion twisting around inside me. Tired. Angry. Sad. Defeated. But worse than any of those? Hope. Hope is the cruelest one. The stupid part of me that still wants to believe that Nico, my husband, isn’t as cold as he pretends. That maybe, just maybe, I can chip away at the stone he’s wrapped himself in and find something soft underneath. Human. Real. But last night? Last night he didn’t just raise walls. He used them to crush me. I barely sleep. When I do, it’s shallow. Haunted. When the sun finally peeks through the curtains, I drag myself into the bathroom. The reflection that greets me in the mirror doesn’t feel like me. My makeup is smeared, clinging to the dark circles beneath my eyes. My hair is tangled

Back in the dining room, the lingering scent of fresh espresso and lemon polish fills the air. The table is pristine now, every plate cleared, every crumb swept away with mechanical precision, leaving no trace of the feast that had been there just minutes ago. I smooth my dress down self-consciously, hoping I look composed, professional even, despite the fact that their son had just thoroughly ruined my lipstick in the bathroom not fifteen minutes ago. Mrs. Moretti sits elegantly, spine straight as a rod, her silk blouse pressed to perfection and a calm smile gracing her lips. Mr. Moretti beside her offers little more than a stoic nod as I slip back into my seat next to Nico. His hand rests casually on the back of my chair, the only reminder that, not long ago, those same hands were gripping my hips like lifelines. Mrs. Moretti clears her throat delicately.“So, Nico,” she begins with that sweet, practiced tone of hers, “as much as we love to come and simply catch up, I do have a smal

"Will you stay with me tonight?" I ask quietly, my voice barely louder than the hum of the towel warmer. I clutch the soft cotton around my chest, drying the last drops of water from my skin as I watch Nico move back into the bedroom. He doesn’t answer at first. Just exhales a long, heavy sigh as he reaches for his shirt, dragging it over his head in slow, practiced motions that speak more of exhaustion than indecision. Then his voice cuts through the stillness, low and flat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ava.”The words land like a slap on their own. I freeze, towel clutched to my chest, heart pounding from the sudden sting of rejection. A cold emptiness spreads inside me, quickly replaced by a heat that rises fast and sharp. Something inside me, something patient and bruised and quietly hoping, snaps."Why the fuck not, Nico?" My voice cracks as the words tumble out, but I don’t stop. "You’re my husband. I’m your wife. It’s ridiculous that we even have separate rooms, like stra

The dining room had been transformed into a cold, elegant war room. The long polished mahogany table gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, its surface marked with faint rings from countless glasses and meetings before mine. Leather chairs, heavy and worn in just the right way, surrounded the table. The faint scent of expensive cigars lingered in the air, a sharp reminder of power, danger, and the weight of decisions made here. Nico sat at the head of the table as expected, a king surveying his court. His posture was impeccable, shoulders squared, gaze sharp but controlled. Around him sat the others, Hayden, alert and quietly commanding; Luca, ever-watchful with a faint scowl etched between his brows; Domonic, his presence solid and unshakable; Marco, a ruthless figure from Jersey whose reputation preceded him; and several other guests, some from New York, others from distant overseas operations. Men who carried influence and fear in equal measure and then there was me. I took my

The door slammed behind me with a thunderous crack, echoing down the hallway. I wasn’t even sure where I was walking anymore, just away. Away from that kitchen, from the eyes that saw too much. From Domonic. From her. Ava. God, her name felt like a wound. A clean cut that never quite bled, just burned. I reached the study and braced my hands on the edge of the desk, jaw clenched so hard it ached. My knuckles were white, pressing into the mahogany like it could ground me. Like anything could.“You’re an asshole,” Domonic’s voice rang out behind me as he pushed into the room without knocking. Of course.I didn’t turn. “Not now.”“Tough shit,” he snapped. “We’re having this out whether you like it or not.”I stood straight, slowly, turning to face him. His face was tight with fury, chest rising and falling with barely leashed restraint.“You don’t get to treat her like that, Nico. You don’t get to sit at the head of the table, playing the fucking king, while your wife’s over there being