Semua Bab The Silence Of His Vows: Bab 21 - Bab 30

The bruise on my stomach was a living thing.It pulsed with every breath. Hot. Sick. A constant reminder of Father's midnight threat.Smile. Or the cellar.I stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the cream silk dress over my hips.The fabric was beautiful. Expensive. Soft.Terrifying.It was the costume I had to wear.I took a breath. It hurt. My ribs ached from where Father had kicked me, but the pain kept me sharp. Kept the tears locked behind my eyes where they couldn't escape.Statues don't bleed, Volkov had told me in the gym.Princesses don't cry, Father had threatened in the dark.I looked at my reflection and forced my mouth into a smile.It felt wrong. Unnatural. Like my face was made of rubber being stretched too far.But I held it.Widened my eyes. Tried to banish the hollow, haunted look.I had to look bright. Excited. Greedy.A knock at the door.My heart jumped. I grabbed my clutch and gripped it hard, knuckles going white.Opened the door.Volkov stood there.A wall of

[Luna's POV]I sat on the floor of my room, surrounded by the jewelry I'd torn off.The ruby collar lay near the door where I'd thrown it. The bracelet by the window. The earrings scattered across the carpet like drops of blood.My breath was still coming too fast. My face was wet with tears.But slowly, the panic subsided.And reality crept back in.Father would check on me. Or send someone.If they saw the jewelry thrown around like garbage, if they saw me without it...The cellar.My stomach turned.I forced myself to stand. My legs shook.I walked across the room and picked up the ruby collar. It was heavier than I remembered. Cold in my hands.I lifted it to my throat.My fingers trembled as I worked the clasp. It took three tries before it locked into place.The weight settled against my collarbones. Pressed against my windpipe.I could barely swallow.I picked up the bracelet next. Slid it over my wrist. The metal was cold enough to make me flinch.Then the earrings. I put them

I froze.Being fed was intimate. Something lovers did.Or something you did to a pet.I looked at the piece of meat. Rare. Bloody.Looked at Vincenzo's eyes. Hard. Expectant.If I refuse, he'll tell Father. If I refuse, the cellar.I leaned forward.Opened my mouth.He slid the fork in. The metal clicked against my teeth.The taste of meat and blood filled my mouth.I chewed. Smiled. Swallowed."Good girl," Vincenzo purred.I felt Volkov's gaze burning into the side of my head.I couldn't help it.I flicked my eyes toward the pillar.He was watching.He'd seen the feeding. Seen the way I'd leaned in. Seen the compliance.His lip curled. Just a fraction.A tiny, cruel sneer of judgment.He thinks I enjoyed it. He thinks I'm playing the obedient pet because I want the master's approval.I looked back at Vincenzo, something breaking inside my chest."You know," Vincenzo said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. "I was worried at first. Your father has a reputation. I thought perhaps you

The Drawing Room smelled like a funeral home trying to disguise itself as a celebration.Lilies. Too many of them. Massive white blooms in crystal vases on every available surface, their heavy, cloying scent thick enough to coat the back of my throat and make me want to gag.Father sat on the velvet sofa like a king holding court, a crystal tumbler of scotch in his hand, his face arranged in that warm, benevolent expression that made my skin crawl. Two wedding planners sat across from him, both women in sharp designer suits, armed with binders thick enough to be used as weapons."Ah! There she is!" Father's voice boomed across the room, so loud and jovial it made me flinch. "The bride of the century! Come here, my darling girl!"I forced my face into a smile. Forced my feet to skip—actually skip—across the Persian rug like an excited child. The movement jarred my bruised ribs and sent a spike of pain through my stomach that made black spots dance at the edges of my vision.I kissed his

Pain woke me.Sharp and specific, sitting low in my stomach where my father's boot had landed two nights ago. I lay still, breathing carefully around it, staring at the ornate ceiling until the worst of it dulled to a manageable ache.The room was freezing. Volkov kept the temperature cold. Always cold.I sat up slowly and made myself move.There was a knock at the door.Not Volkov's entrance. An actual knock."Signorina," a maid's voice called through the wood. "The car is ready. Don Moretti's boutique appointment is in forty minutes."The fitting.I dressed quickly. A simple wrap dress that covered everything. Tied it securely at the waist.Checked my reflection. Pale but presentable.I opened the door.Volkov was already in the hallway. Waiting. He didn't greet me. Just turned and started walking.I followed three paces behind.The boutique was called La Rêve.Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. The smell of expensive perfume and money.Volkov held the door open without looking at m