Trapped In His Vows

Chapter Six Soft hands, hard games.

The doorbell rang.

Heather turned toward the door and hesitated. She was too exhausted to get up.

The blanket Olivia had wrapped around her now seemed to be a different weight.

She sat curled up on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate held between her hands, marshmallows bobbing at the surface. Her gaze remained on the mug, then shifted slowly to the door.

Who could it be at this hour? Her dad? At this ungodly time? It was past midnight.

"I'm coming," Olivia cooed, emerging from the stairway. She mouthed, Who's that? at Heather, raising her brows.

Heather slowly shook her head.

Olivia exhaled, her grip tightening on the door handle before she pulled it open.

"Ashley?" she said flatly, her voice void of emotion.

"Olivia!" Ash chimed, holding out a bouquet of white roses, their petals soaked. It was drizzling now.

"I brought flowers."

What the hell was she doing here?

Olivia looked Ashley up and down, then rolled her eyes in response. She turned away from the door, finally letting Ashley in—without taking the flowers.

Ashley stepped into the room, unfazed by the cold reception. Olivia had every right to be mad at her. But… that didn’t matter now, did it? She was here to comfort her grieving girlfriend.

She hung her coat in the cloakroom. This wasn’t her first visit to the house—nor her second.

Quietly, she placed the roses in a vase on the entryway table by the entrance. As she did, her keys slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor. She sighed.

Ashley turned around slightly to see if anyone noticed — and there was Heather, seated across from her.

“Ashley” Heather whispered to herself,her face lighting up, eyebrows raised.

“Heather…I'm so so —” Ashley began forgetting about her keys.

“Shh” Heather hushed, pressing her index finger to her lips. “Come sit” she tapped the cushion beside her on the soft, gray couch. Her voice was soft.

Ashley walked over to the couch. Her shoulders sagging over the weight of guilt.

“Babe I tried — really. Today was supposed to be perfect, believe me. I cleared my schedule, made calls, sent memos…what did I not do?,But something came up — last minute” She rattled on.

"Ashley?" Heather whispered as Ashley sank into the chair beside her. She leaned forward and set the cup of chocolate on the black marble center table before them—a tabletop that was otherwise empty save for a burning candle and one, unopened book. The candle's small flame cast warm shadows that danced across the shiny surface, grazing the edges of tension in the room.

“It's okay” Heather managed a small smile.

Ashley lets out pent up breath in a sigh.

Heather pulled her into a hug. It caught Ashley off guard. Ashley didn't know what to do at first. She'd never seen her girl this way. Slowly, she wrapped her hands around Heather, returning the embrace.

The blanket slipped to the floor. The hug was warm, comforting. Then Ashley felt something on her left shoulder. It felt cold —wet. Rain? Or probably her hair? No — it wasn't wet.

Heather sniffled.

That answered it.

Ashley hugged her tightly. “I'm sorry”, she whispered into Heather's ear. She pulled away slightly and looked into Heather's glistening eyes like she was searching for something.

Heather's face was red from crying. What was Ashley looking at now?

She looked just like her father — the last she saw him, Heather thought.

Whether or not her cheeks were flushed,she still looked pretty while she cried. Ashley bit her lower lip letting her gaze travel briefly over Heather's form. But now was not the time for fantasizing.

The thought of her father sent Heather into another wave of tears as she collapsed on to Ashley's chest and sobbed harder.

Ashley sighed, holding her close. She quickly dismissed every creeping thought. She wasn't going to —not now,not ever. Though their relationship was on the line now wasn't the best time to talk it out.

Ashley kissed Heather's forehead gently, running her fingers through her hair.

And then—something shifted.

A tingle ran down her spine. She froze, eyes flicking to the stairs. No sound. No action. But the weight of a stare—it lingered. Brooding. Lingering around.

She looked again. Nothing.

Olivia had gone upstairs, hadn't she?

Ashley pushed it aside and held Heather closer. Whatever it was, it could wait.

****************************

“Fifteen thousand dollars” came a husky baritone, breaking the silence. The sound of a cue ball cracking against the pack followed. Dim lighting pools over a rich green snooker table in a room filled with cigar smoke and quiet jazz humming from a vintage stereo.

Matteo Salvi in a sharp navy suit unbothered, calm — lines up his next shot with precision. Across from him stood Tyler, cocky smile, tattoo peeking from his rolled sleeves.

Billionaire blood ran through his veins, but there was grime under his nails—the kind that doesn't wash off. He hadn't always walked the path laid out for him… and maybe, just maybe, it had never been his path to begin with.

Matteo sinks the red ball without sparing him a glance.

“Thirty percent raise if I get it done by tomorrow.” Tyler said coolly.

Matteo snickered, flashing a gold tooth. “You're asking for twenty grand? Ten keys? Tomorrow? You've got nerve.” he picks the tumbler already half filled and downed the liquor. He beckons on a body guard that had been standing silently behind him to pour him another.

“And if you fail?” Matteo finally looks up at him.

There was no humour in his eyes.

Tyler steps around the table, chalking his cue eyes locked on Matteo's, daring.

“You're not the only one with muscle, Salvi. You've got reach — but I've got roots. And I'm not the new guy anymore.”

Matteo smirked.

“Then act like it. Don’t get cute. Deal's on then.”

They exchanged one last, cold stare. Tyler sank a ball without breaking eye contact.

“Sure” Tyler replied standing over the table holding the pool stick by his side.

“Same time tomorrow?” Tyler watched Matteo take another sip from the tumbler.

“Yes” Matteo lowered his glass,eyes narrowing on Tyler. Why was Lancaster's heir here trying to up his way in the drug world? The untouched tumbler still beside the bottle of liquor caught his eye. “But I noticed you haven't touched your drink, Mr Lancaster — or should I say Lancaster's heir”

Matteo smirked, drawing on his cigar. Tyler's eyes narrowed.

“It's Draven. Tyler Draven.” His voice was calm — but cutting.

Matteo chuckled. “Relax, I'm just messing with you,boy. Look at him — nearly lost it” he laughed turning to his bodyguards, he raised his brow. They chuckled with him.

Wordlessly,Tyler picked up the untouched tumbler and walked over to where Matteo stood. He poured it out at his feet then dropped the tumbler. The liquid splashed,the glass followed — shattering.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it was only a joke man!” A voice behind Tyler exclaimed, grabbing his arm. It was Pen.

“Beat it,” Tyler hissed, shrugging her off.

Matteo chuckled again as he stared into Tyler's face. He brushed lint off his shoulder like Tyler was an amusing fly. A smirk lingered. This was getting interesting.

Tyler stormed out of the room. Pen and the other guy he brought with him trailed behind.

As soon as the door was closed, Matteo turned to his men.

“Thirty grand for whoever brings me his head.” Were the words that came.

He lit another cigar,grinning ear to ear. The room went still but soon his men rushed out of the room. His PA didn't flinch but her eyes followed the door.