Vow of Deception: A Dark Marriage Mafia Romance (Deception Trilogy Book 1)

Three days later, we go to the party.

Though, judging by the number of armed guards present, I wouldn’t exactly call it a party.

It’s the first time I’ve been out of Adrian’s house since I got there, and while I thought it would be liberating, it’s somehow more suffocating.

Part of it is because of the number of guards who are accompanying us in a separate car. Five, aside from Kolya and Yan.

Part is because Jeremy cried when I told him I wouldn’t be reading him a bedtime story tonight. His tears drew a black hole in my chest that still hasn’t mended.

Tonight is just wrong on so many levels. Will I make a mistake? Will all of Adrian’s and Ogla’s warnings come true? I want to crawl back into Jeremy’s room, kiss his soft cheeks, and pretend like the whole world only exists because of him.

But here I am, in the middle of a party, celebrating the birthday of a man I’ve never met before.

The Pakhan, Sergei, decided to host Igor’s birthday at his mansion, which is apparently a great honor. The brotherhood’s compound is massive, even larger than Adrian’s house, and has a garden that goes on for miles. It’s surrounded by high walls and cameras that blink in every corner.

It feels scarier than the place I left behind, emptier, bigger. Which is weird since I think Adrian’s house is terrifying. Whenever I walk the halls, I feel like its walls will open their mouths wide and scream in my face—or drag me into nothingness. Its soul is as black as its owner’s.

Sergei Sokolov’s house is scary because of the unfamiliarity of it, the nerves that keep wracking me, the sheer pressure of somehow making a mistake. What if someone figures out I’m not Lia? What if I put Adrian in danger and cause Jeremy to lose his father?

“Relax.” Adrian wraps his hand around my gloved one that’s gripping his jacket. “You’re fine.”

His words immediately still my jittery insides. I don’t know what it is about his voice that’s soothing. It shouldn’t be, considering how deep it is, but during unfathomable moments, it feels like his voice is the only anchor I need.

“All you have to do is remain quiet. Everyone is used to that from you.” His hand drops from mine, and I want to grab it and put it back again. Even through the glove, his touch offered the right amount of comfort I needed.

But Adrian has been making it his mission to deprive me of what I need these past couple of days. Ever since the night I dreamt about Lia being killed by an unknown shadow and me shooting him, he’s withdrawn from me.

He still tends to me—puts ointment on my cut lip, blow-dries my hair, wraps a scarf around my neck when he thinks it’s cold. But he doesn’t touch me sexually.

No punishment.

No orgasms.

Nothing.

I’ve even talked back to him during breakfast so much that Ogla’s eyebrows met her hairline and she eventually told me to shut up.

I haven’t. I’ve kept doing all the things I know Adrian hates. I’ve told him ‘okay’ more than I thought I could, but he’s ignored me. I wear tank tops in front of Yan, and he just dismisses his guard from the house.

He still spoons me from behind every night, but his touch feels mechanical and distant. He’s been so distant that I think I might never be able to reach him. That should delight me. After all, I want him to leave me alone. But do I?

The answer is no.

Ever since he’s withdrawn, I’ve been baffled by how much I’ve gotten used to him, to his punishments. To his…closeness.

He’s just plucked it away as if it never existed and I want to demand he tell me why. I want to put my foot down and make it stop.

It’s crueler than if he’d never again laid his hands on me.

The touch from just now is the first time he’s felt close to me in three days, and I want to fight tooth and nail to hold on to it.

I discreetly peek at him, drinking in as much of his appearance as possible. He’s wearing a black tailored tuxedo. It makes him look taller—which shouldn’t be possible with his height—sharper, and more like a businessman. His hair is styled back and his thick stubble adds to his majesty. The outfit hides his tattoos, giving him a gentleman’s image, like someone you’d see on the cover of Forbes.

I picked a dress to match him. No idea why I did it, but I thought we’d look good together if I wore a black gown. It’s one of those that are tight at the breasts and waist but falls loose to the ground, its train following after me with every move. I gathered my hair in a classy bun and wore dangling earrings. They match the small purse in my hand, containing my phone. I completed the look with elegant white gloves from Lia’s closet and the highest pair of heels I could find. They hurt, but I didn’t want my height to give me an inferiority complex.

The gathering is in full swing. Men and women are dressed for the occasion and chatting animatedly among each other. Classical music plays in the background, and somehow, the sound gives me a bit of serenity, a promise that everything will be okay.

Adrian leads me to where three old men are seated in a lounge area. They seem like they’re in a league of their own even before we approach them. Tall, bulky men like Kolya stand behind their chairs like statues, and I know they won’t hesitate to make use of the weapons peeking from under their jackets.

It’s no surprise that they’re separated from the rest of the crowd. The one in the middle is the Pakhan himself, Sergei. On his right is the man of the hour, Igor Petrov. The one on the left is Mikhail Kozlov. The three of them are around twice my age and they’re the pillars of the Russian Mafia in New York, aside from Adrian’s father and Sergei’s brother, who are now dead.

To occupy my mind the past few days, I spent all my time on the damn document about the brotherhood and the spider web of other organized crime rings related to it.

Even Ogla was impressed with how much I learned, and that’s saying something.

“Adrian.” Sergei motions at him, speaking with a pronounced Russian accent. “Come. Come.”

Adrian takes his hand, kisses it, and places it to his forehead. I do the same because that’s what’s expected when you’re in the presence of the leader of a scary organization.

“Lia.” Sergei’s eyes roam over me as if he’s checking for something to be missing. “You look good for someone who was unwell.”

“Thank you,” I speak with a smile. “I couldn’t miss Igor’s birthday.”

“Much appreciated,” Igor says with a similar Russian accent, his tone unwelcoming.

“Happy birthday. I brought you something, though it’s not much.”

He raises a brow. “I already received Adrian’s present.”

Adrian’s eyes meet mine for a brief second. Right. I didn’t tell him about my gift for Igor. Was I being out of line? What if I insult him? But if I backtrack now, it’ll seem even more suspicious.

“It’s a separate one.”

“A separate one?” It’s Mikhail who asks, drawing out the words, and I immediately dislike him. “Since when does your wife bring a separate gift, Adrian?”

My fake husband remains silent, so I speak calmly, almost like I’m not deterred by what just happened. “I figured that since Igor would have a lot of sugary cake today, I should add one more special birthday cake.”

“At his age, that’s too much,” Sergei says.

“He’s right.” Igor complies with distaste. “My wife wouldn’t approve of that much sugar.”

“That’s what makes mine special. It has a type of sugar that won’t hurt your health. Try it.” I smile. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll make it up to you.”

Igor nods, but the wrinkles don’t ease around his eyes. He seems like he wants to strangle me, as if I offended him in a previous life.

“My, Adrian. I didn’t know Lia could cook. She’s always too unwell; I thought she’d be a corpse by now.” Mikhail takes a sip of a transparent drink, watching me suspiciously.

Shit.

I don’t know why I feel like one of them will pull a mask from over my head and expose me for being a fake.

“She’s been doing better,” Adrian says in his usual calm tone.

“Obviously. Happy to have you with us.” Sergei’s watching me in an unnerving way. I’m glad I’m wearing gloves, because my hands are so sweaty, they would shine under the light.

“The pleasure is all mine, Pakhan.” I don’t know how the hell I manage to speak in a semi-normal tone.

Sergei motions at an empty chair beside Igor. “Sit, Adrian.”

I don’t miss that he only mentions Adrian’s name. My fake husband hesitates for a beat before he releases me and heads to the seat the boss designated for him. I know what this means, I need to go. But I don’t want to. Where will I go in the middle of all these people I don’t know?

However, I force my head to move in a small nod as I turn and leave. I want to think Adrian is watching my back, that Kolya and Yan are somewhere here and will come to my aid, but my legs are shaking as I head to the nearest balcony. I need fresh air and to go home to Jeremy. I’ll even be happy with Adrian’s distant spooning tonight.

“Lia!”

My feet come to a halt at the feminine voice calling my name. I want to pretend I didn’t hear her, but she calls again and I’m forced to turn around.

A beautiful blonde with flawless makeup waves me over to join her circle. Rai Sokolov.

Sergei’s grandniece and the only woman who can rival men in the brotherhood. She’s standing with Damien Orlov and Kirill Morozov. Both of them are leaders. Another man, Aleksander, Kirill’s closest guard, who’s basically in Kolya’s rank, stands with them, but a step back.

I walk to their circle with hesitant steps until I’m a few feet away. That’s when I notice Rai’s baby bump under her royal blue dress.

She kisses my cheeks and I return the gesture. “How have you been, Lia? It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“She’s like a moon, this one.” Damien tilts his head to the side, watching me closely. “Tell me the truth. Is Adrian fattening you to offer you as a sacrifice to his demonic ancestors?”

I part my lips to speak, then close them, not knowing if it’s a joke or how to reply. Damien is good-looking, tall, broad, and with a furious gaze, but he’s marked in the document as reckless and unpredictable.

“Shut up, Damien,” Rai scolds him.

“I’m really curious.” He leans over, watching me as if I’m some mannequin in a store. “Why is he hiding you like you’re some fucked-up version of Sleeping Beauty? Does he do satanic rituals I need to know about?”

“Maybe she’s the one who does the rituals?” Kirill says slowly, readjusting his black-framed glasses. Unlike the old men, these two barely have an accent.

Kirill looks like an accountant, all suited up and with the glasses, but the document mentioned a few things about his suspicious background and that he would stop at nothing for his agenda.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask with my chin held high.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Volkov. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Why don’t you fuck off?” Rai says point-blank. “I just want Sasha around, not you.”

“Aleksander,” Kirill stresses, “is my guard, Rai. We come as a set. Get used to it.”

“I’m sure the only reason he’s with you is because you’re holding something over his head.” Rai pats Aleksander’s hand. “Don’t worry, Sasha. I will save you from this demon.”

Sasha—Aleksander—a guard who’s even prettier than Yan, lowers his head, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“How about me, Rai?” Damien takes her free hand in his and kisses the back of it. “When are you going to save me? All you have to do is divorce Kyle and then we can ride into the sunset—or the battlefield. Same result.”

She swiftly pulls her hand from his. “Only Kyle gets to touch me. Do it again and I will kick you in the balls.”

I expect Damien to get offended, but he grins. “Kinky. I love it.”

“Speaking of kinky.” Kirill faces me again. He hasn’t stopped watching me since I joined them. “Has Adrian picked up anything new lately?”

“He’ll fucking kill you if he hears you talking to his wife about kink.” Damien squeezes Kirill’s shoulder. “Rest in pieces, motherfucker.”

Rai opens her mouth, probably to come to my defense. Is she used to doing that? Was Lia a doormat who let anyone walk all over her?

But I’m not Lia. I’m Winter.

Lifting my chin, I face Kirill. “That question is distasteful, Kirill. You don’t see me asking you about your private affairs, because it’s simply none of my business. I believe what my husband and I do in the privacy of our home doesn’t concern you either.”

My reply has the exact opposite effect of what I intend. Kirill smirks as if he’s in the know about something.

“Who are you and what have you done to the mute Lia?” Damien watches me closely. “You’ve never spoken up when we’ve poked you.”

“It was out of respect, but if you show me none, why should I?”

“That’s my girl.” Rai interlinks her arm with mine. “Come on, let’s leave these assholes—aside from Sasha.”

I gladly follow her, but I feel Kirill’s gaze on me, even after we disappear to a quiet balcony. I release a breath into the breeze and Rai smiles.

“You did very well. I’m so proud of you, Lia.”

“Thank you.” I try not to feel inferior now that it’s just the two of us. It’s not only about her bombshell looks or her height—tall people suck—but also her character. I know Adrian considers her a worthy member of the brotherhood, or he wouldn’t have included her in the first pages of that document.

Maybe someone like her, strong, fearless, is who Adrian needs by his side.

Rai leans in, watching her surroundings before she whispers, “You didn’t follow up on what happened. I was worried.”

“W-what?” I stare at her with parted lips.

“You asked me to help you escape, and then I learn you returned to Adrian’s side as if nothing had happened. Do you know how confused I was?”

Wait. What?

Lia asked Rai to help her escape Adrian? When the hell was that?

But I can’t ask those questions, because that will give me away as a fraud.

I clear my throat. “I couldn’t escape him.”

“But you were so hell-bent on it.”

“Jeremy,” I blurt. “I can’t leave Jeremy.”

“I understand, but you could’ve at least called or left me a hint.” Her voice lowers some more. “Adrian has been after my neck. He suspects I have something to do with your attempted escape. I told you I don’t want him as an enemy, Lia. That I was helping you because you were on the verge of a breakdown.”

Lia was on the verge of a breakdown when she wanted to leave Adrian. Rai helped her, but she…what? Did she die?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Just tell me if Adrian saw Ruslan that day.”

Ruslan is her senior guard. He’s the one who’s standing at the entrance of the balcony to ward off anyone, I assume. It’s the first time I’ve seen his face, aside from his picture in the document.

He must have helped Lia escape on Rai’s behalf, but I have no damn clue if Adrian saw him.

“I don’t remember clearly,” I say vaguely.

Rai grabs me by the shoulder. “Think, Lia. When Adrian was chasing after you that night, you escaped Ruslan. But did Adrian see him?”

“No, I don’t think so.” I’m speaking out of logic alone here, because if Ruslan helped Lia escape and Adrian had seen him, he would be dead by now.

Adrian may be calm, but he’s lethal. He wouldn’t forgive anyone who tries to take his damn precious Lia. Even Rai will be in jeopardy if he finds out about her involvement.

“That’s good.” She releases a breath.

“I’m sorry I got you involved in this,” I shouldn’t be apologizing on behalf of Lia, but she was a selfish woman. Not only did she leave her son behind, but she also got other people involved, knowing full well that Adrian would eradicate them.

I wonder why she tried to escape him. It couldn’t be because she was feeling invisible like me.

For some reason, the knowledge that their marriage wasn’t as solid as I thought relaxes me a little.

I’m such a horrible person.

But even that small relaxation doesn’t last. It doesn’t matter that she tried to escape. Adrian still cares about her. He still dotes on me because he thinks I’m her.

“Let’s go back inside.” Rai smiles at me. “Sergei will call us for dinner any minute now.”

“All right.”

I’m about to leave when I feel eyes watching me. I pause at the balcony and peer down. There are a few guards stationed outside. One of them is Adrian’s driver, who’s smoking a cigarette and talking animatedly with another guard, probably in Russian. They all speak in Russian at the house. Even Adrian addresses them in Russian, unless I’m around. That’s when he switches to English. Jeremy knows a few expressions, too, but I think he still has trouble with mixing both languages together.

I’m about to chalk the sensation I just felt up to paranoia, but my skin prickles again. The feeling is so strong, I visibly shudder.

I search the men standing downstairs for a few more seconds, then my eyes roam over the vehicles parked in the distance. That’s when I see it. A shadow stalking silently between the cars. Only his back is visible as he disappears in the midst of the parking area.

Just like the shadow from my recent nightmare.

My legs shake and my breathing deepens until I’m aware of every inhale and exhale.

It’s paranoia. Only paranoia.

The nightmare was just that. A nightmare. There’s no way a shadow from my subconscious would jump into real life. That must’ve been one of the guards doing his rounds.

My phone vibrates in my small purse and I jump, my nerves getting the better of me.

Only Adrian ever texts me on this phone. Unless it’s Ogla? I told her to call me if something happens to Jeremy.

I retrieve the phone so fast, I nearly drop it.

It’s not Ogla.

A text from an unknown number lights the screen. I click on it, the sense of dread from a few seconds ago gripping me by the throat.

My purse hits the ground as I read the text.

Unknown Number: You have one mission. Pull the fucking trigger.