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

6. Vesper

VESPER

I storm out onto the balcony, the sting of my father’s declaration still prickling against me. The declaration that ripped what little freedom I had left away from me because of my brother’s fight. My brother is hurt, and God knows where my father chose to dump him to lick his wounds. My brother's absence gnaws at me, a constant ache in my chest. Where is he? Is he safe? The uncertainty is almost worse than knowing he was in danger. Almost. My father won’t kill Luca, but he would certainly use this to teach him a hard lesson unless something were to happen to the marriage alliance as the result of his actions. I can’t be positive about what will come of my brother if this union fails.

“Luca, if you’re out there, I hope you’re safe,” I whisper into the breeze. “I hope my sacrifice keeps you safe.”

A flicker of movement in the garden below catches my eye, pulling me from my brooding thoughts. I lean forward, my keen gaze scanning the shadowy landscape. There – a figure moves between the carefully pruned topiaries, pausing beneath my balcony. I recognize the hulking form at once: Oscar.

Our eyes meet across the distance, and even in the dim light, I can see the determination etched on his face. Without a word, he approaches the flower-covered trellis on the wall beneath my balcony. With the grace of a cat, he begins to scale the wooden lattice, the fragrant blooms quivering with his ascent.

My heart races as I watch him climb, a mix of exhilaration and worry coursing through my veins. When Oscar finally pulls himself over the balcony railing, I can see he is slightly out of breath, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow.

“Fuck, that was harder than I thought. That looked easier in movies,” he comments slightly out of breath.

"Oscar," I hiss, glancing nervously at my bedroom door. "What are you doing here?"

He flashes me a roguish grin, reaching into his pocket. "Bringing you this," he says, producing my smartphone. "Figured you might want it back.”

My eyes widened as I take it, my fingers brushing against his, emitting a short electric jolt between us. “Thank you,” I mutter, staring down at it.

“You really shouldn’t thank me, solnishko. I did take it from you,” he smiles down at me. Oscar pauses, studying me for a moment. “You’ve been crying.”

I quickly wipe at my eyes, embarrassed by my show of weakness. "It's nothing," I lie, but Oscar's piercing gaze tells me he doesn't believe me for a second.

He takes a step closer, his voice softening. "It's not nothing. What happened?"

“What hasn’t happened?” I blurt out. “Luca’s fight with your brother, for starters. I have no idea where my brother is, if he’s hurt, or if I’ll see him again before I get shipped off to Russia to become your cousin’s property.”

“Zaire can be a bit of a hot head, and when he finds a chance to goad someone, he takes it. Your brother was an easy target,” he tries to explain. “It’s not an excuse for what happened, but it wasn’t entirely Zaire’s fault either. I have to take the blame for part of it.”

I peer up at him in confusion. “How would it be your fault? You didn’t throw a single punch.”

“I asked Zaire to start it,” he admits casually. “I needed to talk to you alone, and your brother was hovering around you like a fucking moth.”

“You did this?” I hiss as I feel the anger boiling inside of me again. “My brother is gone because of you. I am trapped in this house because of you . The last few days of my freedom are gone because of you .”

Oscar's face falls, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes. "I didn't mean for it to go this far," he says, his voice low and urgent. "I just wanted a moment alone with you. I never thought your father would?—"

"Would what?" I snap, cutting him off. "React exactly how he always does? You may not have meant for this to happen, but you should have known better."

I turn away from him, gripping the balcony railing so tightly my knuckles turn white. The cool night air does little to soothe the fire burning inside me.

"Listen," Oscar says, moving to stand beside me. "I know I fucked up. But I'm here now, and I want to help. Tell me what I can do to make this right."

I laugh bitterly. "Unless you can magically undo this arranged marriage and bring my brother back, there's nothing you can do."

Oscar is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is filled with a determined resolve. “My alternative still stands, Vesper. I can get you out of this.”

I turn to face Oscar, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his dark eyes. For a moment, I allow myself to entertain the wild notion that he could actually help me escape this gilded cage.

But reality crashes back like a tidal wave, drowning out that fleeting hope. I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "And why would you do that, Oscar? What could you possibly gain from helping me?"

I step closer to him, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "My marriage to Dmitri benefits your family. It strengthens the ties between the Petrovs and the Rossis. It expands your influence, your power." I gesture broadly to the opulent gardens below, the sprawling estate that represents just a fraction of our families' combined wealth and influence. "This union is a masterpiece of strategy, crafted by minds far more cunning than ours. And you expect me to believe you'd risk it all for what? Some misplaced sense of chivalry?"

Oscar opens his mouth to speak, but I press on, my words sharp and cutting. "No, I don't believe you. This is just another game, isn't it? Another ploy to manipulate me, to keep me off balance." I pace the length of the balcony. "Perhaps you think if you can gain my trust, you can use me as a pawn in some larger scheme. Is that it?"

I stop and face him again, my green eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and pain. "Or maybe this is just amusement for you. The thrill of playing with fire, of seeing how close you can get to the forbidden fruit without getting burned."

The night air grows heavy around us, thick with tension and unspoken words. In the distance, I hear the faint sound of a car engine, probably one of my father's men patrolling the grounds. It serves as a stark reminder of the invisible bars that surround me.

"You don't understand," Oscar begins, his voice low and urgent. "This isn't about?—"

"No," I cut him off, holding up a hand. "I understand perfectly. I've been raised in this world, Oscar. I know how it works. Every move, every word, every seemingly kind gesture is calculated. There are no selfless acts here, only carefully disguised self-interest."

I turn away from him, gazing out over the moonlit gardens. The roses my mother so lovingly tended now seem to mock me with their beauty, their freedom to bloom and wither as nature intended. "Your offer of help is either a lie or a trap. Either way, I can't afford to believe you."

The silence stretches between us, filled with the soft chirping of crickets and the distant rustle of leaves. When I finally turn back to Oscar, I school my features into a mask of cold indifference, the one I've perfected over years of navigating this treacherous world.

"You should go," I say, my voice steady and devoid of emotion. "If you're caught here, it will only make things worse for everyone."

Oscar doesn't move immediately. He stands there, his dark eyes searching my face as if trying to decipher some hidden message in my expression. For a fleeting moment, I see something flicker in his gaze – hurt, perhaps, or frustration. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a hardness that mirrors my own.

"You're right," he says finally, his tone matching mine in its detachment. "I shouldn't have come. It was impulsive."

He moves towards the balcony railing, preparing to make his descent. But before he swings his leg over, he pauses and turns back to me.

"Vesper," he says, his voice softer now. "I know you have no reason to trust me. But I meant what I said. If you change your mind, if you decide you want out, I’ll be there. No strings attached."

I say nothing, maintaining my stony facade. Oscar nods once, accepting my silence as an answer. With the same feline grace he displayed in his ascent, he begins to climb down the trellis.

As I watch him disappear into the shadows of the garden, I feel a pang of something. Regret? Longing? I push the feeling aside, burying it deep where it can't touch me. I can't afford such weakness, not now.

I turn back to my room, closing the balcony doors behind me. The opulent space suddenly feels suffocating, every gilded surface and silk drape a reminder of the cage I'm trapped in. I move to my vanity, catching sight of my reflection in the ornate mirror.

The woman staring back at me looks composed, regal even. But I can see the cracks in the facade, the fear and uncertainty lurking just beneath the surface. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come.

As I prepare for bed, my mind races with thoughts of Luca, of the impending marriage, of Oscar's offer. But I push them all aside. I can't afford to dwell on what-ifs and maybes. I need to focus on the reality of my situation, on finding a way to navigate this treacherous path without losing myself in the process.

Tomorrow, I'll begin preparations for my new life as Dmitri Petrov's wife. I'll play the role expected of me, the dutiful daughter cementing a powerful alliance. But beneath it all, I'll be watching, waiting, looking for any opportunity to assert control over my own destiny.

As I slip under the silk sheets of my bed, I whisper a quiet promise to myself. "This isn't over. I won't let them dictate my fate. One way or another...I'll find a way out of this all on my own."

As I lay in bed, sleep eludes me. My mind keeps replaying Oscar's visit, his words echoing in my head. Despite my outward rejection, a tiny part of me wonders if I've made a mistake in dismissing his offer so quickly. But no, I can't afford to entertain such dangerous thoughts.

The soft buzz of my newly returned phone startles me from my ruminations. I reach for it, half expecting to see a message from Oscar. Instead, it's an unknown number. My heart races as I open the text:

I'm okay. Don't worry. Stay strong. - L

Luca. Relief washes over me, followed quickly by a surge of questions. Where is he? How did he get this number? Is he truly safe?

I type out a rapid response:

Where are you? Are you hurt?

Minutes pass with no reply. I stare at the screen, willing another message to appear. Nothing comes.

Frustrated, I toss the phone aside and sink back into my pillows. At least I know Luca's alive. It's not much, but it's something to hold onto in the chaos of uncertainty surrounding me.