All The Pretty Little Lies (Second Sons Duet #1)

5. Vesper

VESPER

I ascend the grand staircase, my heels clicking against the polished marble, echoing through the large foyer of the Rossi mansion. The opulent surroundings, with their gilded frames and crystal chandeliers, feel suffocating as I make my way to my room, my mind racing with the events of the evening.

Once inside my sanctuary, I shed my school uniform, peeling the blood-soaked tights from my body and gather them up in my hands, tossing them in my bathroom trash bin. I move to my expansive walk-in closet, my fingers trailing over the array of designer labels before selecting a crisp white blouse and tailored black trousers. After cleaning the now dried blood from my legs, I dress in new clothes, and my eyes catch my reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman staring back at me looks composed, but I can see the storm brewing behind my own emerald gaze. My father’s wrath is not something I’ve experienced directly, and to be honest, I have no idea what to expect now that it seems to be directed at me. With a deep breath, I steel myself and make my way back downstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. The dark mahogany door of my father's study looms before me, and I knock with a steady hand that belies my inner turmoil.

"Enter," comes the gruff response from within.

I step into the room, the scent of leather and cigars enveloping me. My father sits behind his imposing desk, his weathered face set in hard lines.

"Vesper," he begins, his voice low and controlled, "explain to me why your brother was fighting with Zaire Petrov."

I meet his gaze unflinchingly. "It was a misunderstanding, Father. You know how hot-headed Luca can be sometimes."

Father's eyes narrow. "A misunderstanding? That's all you have to offer?"

I shrug elegantly, careful to keep my expression neutral. "Boys will be boys, as they say. I'm sure it was nothing of consequence." The lie tastes like acid as it spills so easily from my lips. If my father found out the real reason behind Luca’s clash with Zaire, I shudder to think of the consequences.

My father's fist comes down hard on the desk, causing the crystal decanter to rattle. "Nothing of consequence? Do you have any idea how important this alliance is to our family?"

I remain silent as my father continues, his voice rising with each word. "Your brother was reckless, provoking Zaire into a fight. Do you understand the delicate nature of our negotiations with the Petrovs? One wrong move and years of careful planning could crumble! Until you’re married to Dmitri, it’s imperative that we do not provoke them to change their mind about the alliance.” I watch as he rises from his chair, pacing the length of the study. The firelight casts long shadows across the room, making my father's imposing figure seem even more menacing. “Your idiot brother will be punished for his actions," Father declares, his tone brooking no argument. "He needs to learn that his impulsiveness has consequences. And you, Vesper," he turns to face me, his eyes boring into mine, "I expect better from you. Maybe allowing your mother to raise you instead of sending you off to an all-girls boarding school was a mistake after all. I just hope that this mistake will be the only one you make until you’re no longer my problem."

I feel a chill run down my spine, knowing that I’m the reason this happened. I’m the reason he felt the need to fight, to protect and defend me. My heart sinks at my father's words, the weight of my guilt pressing down on me like a lead blanket. I struggle to maintain my composure, but I can feel my carefully constructed facade beginning to crack.

"Father," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "may I see Luca? Perhaps I could speak with him, make him understand the gravity of his actions."

My father's laugh is cold and humorless, sending a shiver down my spine. "See him? Oh no, my dear. Your brother isn't here to coddle or console. He can lick his wounds under someone else's roof until I decide what to do with him."

The room spins around me, the furnishings blurring into a mixture of guilt and fear. I grip the edge of my father's desk, steadying myself as I process his words. Luca, my fierce protector, my confidant, is gone. And it's all because of me.

I can still see the determination in Luca's eyes earlier today, the way his jaw clenched when Zaire made that crude comment about me. I should have stopped him then, should have pulled him away before things escalated. But a part of me, a selfish, prideful part, had relished seeing Zaire put in his place.

Now, as I stand before my father, I realize the full cost of that moment of satisfaction. Luca is suffering, cast out and alone, while I remain in the comfort of our family home. The injustice of it all threatens to overwhelm me.

"Where is he?" I ask, my voice stronger now, fueled by desperation. "Please, Father, at least tell me he's safe."

My father's eyes narrow, assessing me with a coldness that makes me want to shrink away. "Your brother is where he needs to be, learning a valuable lesson about loyalty and obedience. You would do well to learn from his mistakes, Vesper."

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. The ornate clock on the mantel ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like an eternity as I stand there, trapped between my duty to my family and the love for my brother.

"Father, please," I implore, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need to see him, to make sure he's alright. Luca is?—"

"Enough!" Father's voice cracks like a whip, silencing me instantly. His eyes, dark and flinty, bore into mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away. But I force myself to meet his gaze, summoning every ounce of strength I possess.

The setting sun paints the sky in hues of crimson and gold, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. For a moment, the beauty of the scene stands in stark contrast to the tension that crackles in the air between us.

"You disappoint me, Vesper," he says, his voice low and measured. "I expected better from you. How could you allow this to happen? Your brother may be impulsive, but you're supposed to be the levelheaded one. The one who understands what's at stake."

I feel each word like a physical blow, my chest tightening with a mixture of shame and indignation. "I didn't know he was going to?—.”

"It doesn't matter what you knew or didn't know," he interrupts, turning to face me. The fading sunlight casts half his face in shadow, making him look more menacing than ever. "You're about to become a Petrov. Do you understand what that means? The responsibilities that come with it?"

I nod mutely, my throat constricting around words I dare not speak.

"You are expected to be a lady, Vesper. To carry yourself with grace and dignity at all times. To be a good wife to Dmitri." He pauses, his eyes narrowing. "And most importantly, to be loyal to your new family. The Petrovs will not tolerate any hint of divided loyalties."

The mention of Dmitri and my impending marriage sends a wave of nausea through me. I can feel the bile rising in my throat, bitter and acrid. The thought of being bound to a man I barely know, of leaving behind everything and everyone I love, makes my stomach churn violently.

I clench my fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms until I feel the sharp sting of pain. It grounds me, helps me maintain my composure even as my insides rebel against the future that's been mapped out for me.

"I understand, Father," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I won't disappoint you again."

My father's lips curl into a cold smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, my dear Vesper," he says, his voice dripping with a mixture of condescension and finality, "you won't have the opportunity to disappoint me again."

A chill runs down my spine as he continues, each word falling like a hammer blow. "I've spoken with your headmaster. He assures me that despite missing the last four days of classes, you will graduate. Your academic record is impressive enough to warrant this special consideration."

The room seems to tilt on its axis as the implications of his words sink in. The antique globe on his desk, becomes the focal point of my blurring vision.

"I...I don't understand," I stammer, my usual composure deserting me. "What about my final exams? My graduation ceremony?"

Father waves his hand dismissively, the light catching on his heavy gold signet ring. "Inconsequential details, my dear. Your true education begins now."

He moves to the liquor cabinet, a beautiful Art Deco piece that has stood in this study for generations. The crystal decanter clinks against a tumbler as he pours himself a measure of amber liquid. The scent of aged scotch fills the air, mingling with the lingering aroma of leather and cigar smoke.

"You won't be returning to school," he states, taking a sip of his drink. "The next five days will be spent preparing for your wedding. Your mother has already begun making arrangements. Dress fittings, etiquette refreshers, briefings on the Petrov family history, and business interests. Every minute will be utilized to ensure you are the perfect bride for Dmitri."

The weight of his words press down on me, making it difficult to breathe. The ornate wallpaper, with its intricate patterns of golden leaves and crimson flowers, seems to close in around me. I feel trapped, like a butterfly pinned to a board, my wings uselessly fluttering against the inevitable.

"But Father," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper, "I had plans. There were people I wanted to say goodbye to, things I wanted to do before..."

"Before what, Vesper?" he interrupts, his voice sharp. "Before you fulfilled your duty to this family? Before you took your rightful place in securing our future?"

He sets down his glass with a decisive thud and turns to face me fully. "You've been indulged for far too long," he continues, his tone brooking no argument. "It's time for you to embrace your responsibilities. The Petrovs are expecting a refined, educated young woman who understands her place in this world. Not a spoiled little bitch who cares more about friends and walking across the stage for a piece of paper that means nothing in the end.”

My father's words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I stand there, frozen, as the full weight of my situation crashes down upon me. The ornate grandfather clock in the corner ticks away the seconds, each one feeling like a nail in the coffin of my former life.

"You may go," my father says dismissively, turning back to the window. "Your mother will brief you on tomorrow's schedule."

I nod mutely, unable to form words, and turn to leave. As I reach for the doorknob, my father's voice stops me once more.

"And Vesper," he says, his tone cold and final, "do not disappoint me again."

I step out into the hallway, closing the door behind me with trembling hands. The long corridor stretches before me, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps as I make my way back to my room. Family portraits line the walls, generations of Rossis staring down at me with eyes that seem to judge and condemn.

As I enter my bedroom, I'm struck by how foreign it suddenly feels. The pastel walls, the delicate white furniture, the bookshelf filled with my favorite novels – it all seems like it belongs to someone else now. A girl who had dreams.

I sink onto my bed, my fingers clutching at the silk comforter. The room spins around me, and I struggle to catch my breath. How did everything change so quickly? Now I'm a bride-to-be, my future mapped out in precise detail by parents who see me as nothing more than a pawn in their grand game of power and influence.

As I sit on my bed, surrounded by the remnants of my former life, Oscar's offer echoes in my mind. The memory of his earnest face, his whispered promise of help, now feels like a lifeline I foolishly let slip through my fingers. If only I had been braver, less hesitant to accept the risks that came with his offer.

But it’s too late now. There’s no escaping this hell.