Page 62 of Stolen Vows
My heart drops to my stomach. “Oh?”
How did that escape mine and Frankie’s detection?
Somehow during the countless hours we spent watching her on security feeds and making note of everything she did, every award won, every article written and doctor’s visit—we missed that.
“Yeah. I’ve never skipped one either, so you don’t need to like…worry or anything.”
As my hand continues its exploration of her lithe form, it slides beneath her hair, the silken strands soft against my scarred skin.
A distant part of me wonders what might have changed if we’d done this seven years ago. If I hadn’t let my personal issues take precedence and allowed her to waltz out of my life. If I’d been more like the man I killed for speaking ill about her.
I’m certain the birth control is a new addition, so would we have children by now? Would our arguments be over how I’d ruined her body, her life, and her future instead of?—
My hand freezes, the tips of my fingers twisting in the ends of her hair.That is what the arguments have been about, isn’t it?I suppose no amount of time can make up for the actual loss of autonomy that comes from marrying someone like me.
I thought I was different. I went out of my way to try to be, for her, and wound up in the same fucking boat anyway.
Exhaling, I move up the bed. I’m not sure if it’s the postorgasmic haze she’s in, or something else, but she seems to gravitate in the same direction as I rest my back against the iron headboard. She doesn’t touch me, her head on the pillow being as close as she’s voluntarily gotten to me since our reconnection.
I don’t want to read into it, but my stupid chest swells a little anyway. Like I’m some lovesick, touch-starved puppy whose owner let it sleep in the bed with her.
“Why would I worry about any of that?” I eventually ask, stroking her temple.
“Whywouldn’tyou?” Her brown eyes swivel to mine, narrowing slightly. “I know we’re…married, but still. Do you really want to be saddled with the kid of a woman you didn’t actually choose?”
“A strong, beautiful Stanford graduate? I’m sure I could do much worse.”
She stays silent, and after a moment, she rolls onto her back. I keep my hand on her hair, toying with it aimlessly, unable to stop.
For a while, she stares up at the ceiling, which is also made of glass, like three-fourths of the tower walls. The stars are out, their visibility impeded slightly by thick clouds. I wonder which ones she’s looking at and if she knows the names of the constellations.
I wonder if the night sky is as stunning to her as she is to me.
When she grabs my wrist, I’m not expecting it at all. She pulls me over, inspecting my palm, and a wave of stubbornness crashes through me. I try to retract out of habit, but she ignores me, her grip strong as her eyes soak up my scars in the dim lighting.
“Who did this to you?”
I’m not sure what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. “Don’t worry yourself,stellina. They’re long gone at this point.”
She glances at me over my fingertips. “The gloves? This is why you wear them, right?”
I nod, and she smooths her thumb over the mess of skin, gliding over a particularly rough pocket.
“Does it hurt?”
“No.” I flex, curling my fingers beneath hers until they freeze midway. “This hand is worse than the other as far as mobility is concerned. Sometimes certain motions can be difficult, but the scars themselves are not painful. Not anymore.”
My pulse skyrockets the longer she stares, and I tug at my limb, trying to close this part of me off to her. Paired with everything else, even the shit she has no clue about, it feelstoovulnerable. Like I’m playing all my cards before knowing if I have a chance of winning.
I’m not insecure about the scars, but I don’t display them either. That would be a death sentence; the second someone in this world knows you can be harmed, you’re in trouble.
“It was a fluke, you know.” She releases me and drags the white comforter up to her chin. “Me getting into Stanford. I mean, that was always my goal, but I didn’t get there on merit.”
“What do you mean?”
“My sister—er, well, I guess her husband, since we didn’t really have any money after she got married…” Stella is seemingly lost in thought, and I wonder how much she really knows about her late parents’ financial situation.
Theyhadmoney, but since the eldest Ricci daughter ratted her parents out, assets were seized, and business went completely underground. Totally off-grid from where any Feds might notice. That was why Rafael brought her to Saint Paul’s that night, aware that even if he had cash to repay me with, doing so would put a target on his and his wife’s backs, as they owed more than just me.
