Never Tell Vows (Never Tell Trilogy #3)

Prologue

Alfie

My love. My life. My Lo.

Those words stayed with me every night and woke with me every morning, reminding me how far I’d come over the last few years.

The intricate web she’d woven around me was made from threads of love, support, the giggle of her laughter, the scrunch of her nose when she was frustrated. In turn, I’d woven threads of pain and distrust.

I had spent months cutting each thread one at a time and trying to replace it with a new one.

Now, we begin a new path. Promises had been made, apologies accepted. Yet, we were still breakable. Our relationship was like a freshly born foal learning to walk.

I fought myself daily. The urge to control her life to make sure she couldn’t leave me. To overpower her with gifts and adoration to make her forget what I’d done. Those were old behaviours. This new man wore blue socks, he was patient and he wouldn’t fuck this up a third time.

Elliot watched me in the driver's mirror. I swear he could drive blindfolded and still never crash. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“You’re getting soft.” I brushed him off, though his words did warm me. I craved his approval more than I’d ever cared about my father’s.

What was he proud of me for, I wondered. For finally being a decent human being? Better late than never, I suppose.

I smiled to myself, something I did often these days.

She was mine.

Finally.

Completely.

Well…almost.

She hadn’t agreed to a wedding date yet, or even to announce our engagement.

The ring I’d bought for her sat in its box in the safe at my new house, waiting for the day she was ready to put it on and tell the world, and more importantly her best friend and her sister, that she’d taken another chance on me.

I hated it. I hated waiting. But every time I got angry, I forced myself to remember what I’d done to her.

The lies, the manipulation. She loved me, that I believed.

As far as forgiveness and trust went, some days were easier than others.

She tried to hide it. Tried to pretend as if what I'd done didn't still follow her around like sightless, heartless ghosts darkening her day. But it was there. It would take time. It had been three months since she’d agreed to marry me and still it would take more time.

Finally, we arrived at Kal’s townhouse, in the heart of Chelsea where pillared porticoes and Bentleys were a given.

I couldn’t pretend I didn’t have some trepidation about being here.

The last time I’d stepped foot in this place, it had been to retrieve Lola after I’d told her about the cameras.

I’d never forget how she looked at me that night and the morning after, but she’d forgiven me and I had to let it go too.

Harder to let go of was seeing her in his bedroom.

Seeing her hair braided with rope and knowing how it got that way.

Kal had wanted her for himself. Not for life, just for a while.

I didn’t blame him but it didn’t stop me from wanting to hit something.

A maid let me in the front door and I thanked her as I passed her my coat.

“The gentlemen are in the study,” she said.

I didn’t need her to tell me that, I could hear the laughter. I followed the smell of the cigar smoke and found Damien, Kal, Cas and Eli sitting around an art deco card table, playing poker.

“It’s about fucking time.” Damien grinned and flicked the end of his cigar at me. I didn’t respond, only put it out with the underside of my shoe, burning a hole in the carpet.

“You’re buying me a new rug.” Kal clapped me on the arm. A gesture that wasn’t quite an apology for touching my girl, but it was an olive branch nonetheless.

“Come on,” Eli nudged the free chair opposite him with his foot. “I’ll deal you in.”

We settled into conversation that got easier every time I saw them.

My friendships with Eli, Kal, Damien and Cas were rebuilding but slowly.

Damien had mended fences the most. Kal had always been a cooler character and had been through enough of his own shit that he understood why I’d stepped away for so long.

Cas was still sulking a little. That was fine too. Eli…Eli was as hard to read as I was.

“So, how's the little woman?” Kal asked me.

“The same. She’d probably rip your head off if she hears you call her that though,” I muttered, looking over my cards. Kal chuckled, the sound irritating me. I didn’t like him thinking about Lola.

“Still no date for the wedding?” Cas asked. Lola might not have been ready to announce to her people that we were engaged but my friends I trusted. They knew how to keep secrets.

“No, not yet,” I answered and Cas sniffed.

“Will we actually be invited?”

“Yes, you sensitive fucker, you’ll be invited.”

Damien snorted a laugh and Cas gave me a begrudging smile.

“You’d better hurry up or you’re going to be the one getting your head ripped off if you don’t stop dragging your feet.” Kal smirked.

“He’s not the one dragging his feet.” Damien knew me too well.

Kal shook his head, laughing.

“What?” I asked him.

“You’re getting married. It’s just blowing my mind.”

“Well, I’m not twenty three anymore. I’ve grown up.”

“You’re hurting my feelings,” he replied, feigning hurt.

“So focus on the game and stay out of my shit.”

Kal hadn’t changed much in the eighteen years that I’d known him.

None of them really had. Not internally anyway.

Externally, we were all richer with better business connections but internally, they still just wanted to fuck and party.

Like me, they were all haunted by ghosts of their own.

I suppose it was easier not to think with a woman in your lap and a drink in your hand.

“Have you told your mother about your engagement yet?” Eli asked. The table went silent.

I paused. “Fuck all of you.”

They burst out laughing and we finished the night without any further mention of Lola, our engagement, or my mother.