Page 9 of Vow to Claim You

“Oh please, don’t be so dramatic.” Vidar cuts in.

The air seems to thicken as every eye in the room settles on us. Then a familiar voice slices through the suffocating silence from a table at the edge of the room.

“So is it over yet?” Eero, my half brother. Two years younger, different mothers. Hence, his almost white-blond hair, a contrast to my raven black—a reminder of our separate bloodlines. He tugs his tie, grimacing. “Because this thing is choking me. I’m ready to set it on fire.”

A ripple of laughter breaks through the room, defusing the tension just enough.

For a fraction, my jaw unclenches. Because leave it to Eero to cut the air when everyone else is too busy suffocating in it.

We’re at thirty thousand feet, and the low hum of the engine—occasionally broken by the soft clink of ice shifting in my glass—is the only sound filling the silence. An hour has passed since takeoff, and neither of us has said a word.

I glance her way. She sits across from me, arms crossed, legs tucked beneath her. She’s changed again, into a beige blouse and loose pants. The kind of outfit that shouldn’t look regal but it does on her. She should look small in that seat, in that outfit. Fragile. Yet she doesn’t. She looks defiant, chin lifted, jaw set, like she’s already planning ways to make my life difficult.

I let my gaze linger a beat too long because she notices, and her arms tighten across her chest.

“I know you’re not happy about your new life,” I say. The grimace that twists her face almost pulls a smirk out of me. Almost.

“That’s an understatement,” she snaps back without hesitation. “I hate everything about it.”

I swirl the whiskey in my glass. “I had plans too, you know. A life. Before this arrangement.”

She looks at me for the first time since we boarded, and her brows furrow.

“What was her name?”

My jaw tightens despite myself. “It’s all in the past now. Where it should stay.”

She leans forward. The movement pulls the blouse taut against her collarbone, and I keep my eyes on hers. Barely.

“I deserve to know.” Her voice drops, dark eyes burning into mine. “After all”—the sarcasm drips deliberately—“we’re about to spend a lifetime together, aren’t we?”

“Chiara.” The name leaves my mouth like a door closing. “Her name was Chiara.”

She speaks again after a beat of silence, her voice quiet and soft. “Did you love her?”

“I’m not built for love.”

She studies me for a moment before nodding.

I set the glass down, the clink sharp in the quiet. “Now tell me, is there anyone else you’re seeing that I should be aware of?”

Her eyes flash. A death glare that would send weaker men running.

“What?” My head angles. “I’d rather not be caught off guard again.”

“I told you.” Her jaw ticks. “There was just Luca. And you saw how that ended.”

“Good.”

Mirroring her posture, I rest my forearms on my thighs, angling my body toward hers. The sweet scent of her perfume lingers between us. “Because now…you’re mine, Ayanna.”

Her breath hitches, but she covers it with a sharp scoff. “God. So conceited, aren’t you?” She leans even closer until only a fraction of an inch separates us. If I tilted my head, I’d know what she tastes like. “Just for the record,” she breathes, her voice is steadier than her pulse, which I can see fluttering at the base of her throat, “I’ll never be yours.”

A smirk tugs at my mouth. “You already are.” My hand lifts, and my fingers catch her chin, tilting her face toward mine until those black eyes have nowhere to go but me. Her lips part, and I watch her swallow. “You vowed to be mine until death do us part,” I murmur, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. “Remember?”

CHAPTER FIVE

Ayanna