Cunning Vows: Enemies to Lovers Dark Romance (Lethal Vows Book 3)

“You seem quiet today, miss,” Clay says as he looks through the rearview mirror at me.

“Everything’s fine, Clay,” I say dismissively as I clutch the black briefcase in my lap.

Everything is not fine. Last night, I didn’t even recognize myself. I’d slipped up.

River is the enemy. He’s sexy as all fuck, but he has no place in my world. Yet I naturally gravitate toward him, fooling myself that it’s just for sex.

No, I can get sex anywhere I want.

So why did I go to him?

I push the mounting thoughts down. I don’t need the complication of thoughts or feelings. I don’t do feelings, and I don’t chase men.

It’s a debt to be paid. Once it’s done, River will be out of my life forever. Though, I’m not so sure of that now that he’s bought the house beside mine. But I’m sure I can become the neighbor from hell.

And even after all the mental fuckery, I still didn’t get laid.

“Clay, stay by the car. You scare the kids,” I say as I step out of the back seat.

“Yes, miss,” he agrees. “I’ll be watching from here,” he adds as he steps out of the car and stands beside the driver’s door.

I look up at the worn-down building with bold letters that say “Orphanage.” I’ve always hated this place. It reminds me of a prison, and in many ways, it was for my brother and me. We were handed through two foster families before the old bitch found us. Each one of them said we were too much to handle. Granted, Alek got violent at the last foster home we were in, but that place was beyond full of children. That man deserved every moment of the beating Alek gave him. When I was a teenager, I returned to his home, and he was the first man I’d taken satisfaction in killing for what he had done to me.

I would never fall victim to a man again.

My grip tightens on the briefcase as I cross the road. Same time, same day every month, I come here.

I’m not a good person, but there’s a small relief inside me knowing that all this money I’ve amassed might help a child in the same circumstances as my brother and I once were.

“Anya,” Mikaela says expectantly. She’s second in charge to Lucy, the woman who has run the orphanage for the last thirty years. “Punctual as always.” She opens the door, and I cringe at the thought of stepping into a hall full of children.

“No, thank you. I’ll just drop the money off here,” I say as I hold out the briefcase to her, but she takes a step farther into the hallway.

“Lucy would like to see you briefly, if you have a moment,” she says. I sigh and take my designer sunglasses off and prop them on my head. I handle men like they’re a sport. Surely, I can handle the uncomfortable presence of children.

I slip through the door and follow her down the hall. It’s quiet, and my heels click against the wooden floors. It feels colder in here than outside. So many things haven’t changed here over the years, yet every time I enter, I can see the subtle updates made to the estate. No doubt from my “anonymous” contributions.

As I walk down the hall, I notice a pair of beady eyes peering at me through a door that’s ajar. A young girl watches me. Because that’s not creepy in the slightest.

I’m escorted through to the main reception area and on to Lucy’s office.

I cringe at the sound of a child crying when I step inside. I all but fold into myself as Lucy rocks a baby back and forth. The sixty-year-old woman looks like she hasn’t changed a bit. That doe-eyed affection fills her gaze as she bounces the infant around.

She looks up with a smile. “Anya. It’s been a while since you’ve shown your face. It’s good to see you.”

“Pleasure,” I reply dryly.

She lets out a little laugh, always having found amusement in my dry tone. Yet in some ways, it’s oddly comforting. Despite my spoiled ways as a child, she had always taken time for me and my brother after our parents abandoned us.

“Would you like to hold her?” She offers me the child, and I use the briefcase as a shield.

“Allergic, actually,” I say with disdain.

“Allergic to a baby?” Lucy scoffs and hands the infant over to Mikaela with a smile. I’m relieved when she takes her out of the room.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Lucy says as she begins to pick up the few toys on the floor. She looks pointedly at my ring finger. “Still not married, I see. I’m telling you, Anya, beauty only lasts so long. You need to lock a man down while you still can,” she grumbles as she stands up again, her back stiff.

“Ironic, considering my foster mother has an entirely different opinion about my marital status.” To the old bitch, marriage is a form of weakness.

Lucy seems grim at my mention of Meredith. I’ve always found irony in the way she seems to have an opinion of the old bitch despite handing us over legally to her. But it was better than here.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask expectantly as I walk across the room and place the briefcase with the cash down.

Lucy watches me step away from it with a warm smile. “As prickly as you are, Anya, you’ve always had a big heart. I hope you find someone you can share it with beyond your brother.”

The mention of Alek draws short on my nerves, but I say nothing. She steps around the desk and pulls out the top drawer. I idly look at some of the pictures of children pinned to the wall and the scribbles of disastrous interpretations of elephants.

“I went through some archives two months ago and found some old photos of you and Alek. I thought you might want them,” she says as she pulls out an envelope and hands it to me.

I furrow my eyebrows. “Do I seem like the sentimental type?” I ask as I take them.

She laughs again. “Anya, most people would say thank you.”

My lips draw thin as I open it out of curiosity. Most gifts I receive are diamond encrusted, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt to look.

I flip open the envelope to reveal four old and worn photos. I maintain my expression as a smile dares to form. A photo of me hanging off Alek with a big smile. He looks miserable. I’m missing a front tooth and almost want to choke on a laugh at how feral we look with dirt on our faces. A different time and place.

The next one is a photo of me screaming so audaciously you can see my tonsils, and Alek is trying to console me.

The third is a photo of me and a young girl yanking on Alek’s arm, fighting over him. My eyebrows furrow. I vaguely remember the girl, and this particular moment. She didn’t stay with us for long. My gaze dips to the child’s foot and see she’s wearing worn-out imitation ballet shoes.

“I don’t remember this girl much,” I say pointedly to Lucy as I raise the photo.

“Cinita? She wasn’t here for long. Fostered out rather quickly, actually. I heard she became a dancer. I try my best to keep tabs on all my children who pass through here.”

I tuck that information away. Could this be the dancer Alek is chasing? It’s a slim chance, but I’m willing to go off anything right now.

“I’d love to know what you have on my brother and me now,” I say with a tight smile as I push the photos back into the envelope and pocket them in my long black jacket.

Lucy’s face seems grim as she quietly says, “Business owners, right?”

“Business owners,” I agree. Lucy, for all of her nurturing nature, is also a highly intelligent woman. I have no doubt the moment the old bitch walked in, she understood exactly what type of woman she was. As expected, anything can be paid for. Hell, I make a living off it.

“Thank you for the gift, Lucy. And make sure you use some of the money to get your back checked out. It’ll become a nuisance for your workers here if you can’t pick up wailing children,” I scold.

“Thank you for caring, Anya,” she says from behind me as I walk out the door. “It’s good to see you.”

I walk out with my chin held high, noticing the same door that was slightly ajar is now fully open. The same girl peers around the edge of the doorframe. She’s no older than I was when I first came to this place.

She stares at me and slowly points at the black glasses she now has atop her head.

I look down the hall and notice no one else is there. Curiosity gets the better of me as I come to a stop in front of her door and crouch down to her level. I hold my knees to try to make myself as small as possible.

“Did you put those glasses on because they look like mine?” I ask.

The girl offers a smile, revealing one missing tooth, and I can’t help but offer her a small one back. A reminder of the photos I’d just been given; one in particular of me with the same missing tooth.

I pluck my glasses from my hair and look at them. I have a million of these anyway. I offer them to her. “These are Versace. Very expensive. Very beautiful. If I give these to you, you have to look after them.”

Her eyes go wide. “Will I look like you in them?” she asks quietly and clings to the doorframe shyly, and another small part of me breaks. A reminder of the child I once was. A time when I, too, understood innocence until it was taken away.

“Even better,” I whisper as I hand her the glasses. Because every part of me hopes that with the financial contributions I offer to this establishment, the only problem this little girl will face is whose heart she wants to break next.

I stand and notice Lucy watching from the end of the hall with a smug smile. My jaw tics as I hold my chin high and walk back out the front to be greeted by Clay waiting at the door.

“I told you to wait by the car,” I scold.

“But then you went inside,” he says unapologetically. I adjust the hem of my jacket but proceed to stride across the road, two steps ahead of him.

I fish out the envelope of photos. “There’s a photo of a girl in here during the time we stayed in this orphanage. I want you to find out everything you can about her.”

He says nothing as he plucks it out of my hand.

Every time I leave here, a small part of me feels like I’ve done at least a little bit of good in this world. This time feels different, though. And it’s as unsettling as it is loud.

Fucking River Bently.