A VOW FOR VENGEANCE

Chapter Eight: Not What I Expected

Hanna's POV

"Stefan!" I said again, gripping the phone so tight my knuckles hurt. "Say something."

There was shuffling, then his voice came back, closer now, calmer than it had any right to be. "Relax, Hanna.” A waiter dropped a tray. “Nobody died."

"You scared me."

"Did I?" He sounded pleased about that, which annoyed me more than the crash had. "That is sweet."

"Stefan, this is not sweet. This is reckless."

"Even if something got broken, I can pay for it." He laughed. "I could buy the whole club if I wanted to. Relax."

I stood there in the middle of the street holding a bunch of dying roses, listening to a grown man tell me not to worry about property damage like it was pocket change, and I finally understood why half the city called him a disappointment. Not because he lacked money or power. Because he had both, and treated them like nothing mattered.

"Text me the address," I said. "I am coming to get you."

"You do not have to do that."

"I know I do not have to. I am doing it anyway."

He gave me the address without much of a fight, which told me he was drunker than he wanted to admit.

The club was loud and dark, full of people who did not look twice at me as I walked through. I found Stefan at the bar, tie loose, laughing at something one of the girls beside him had said. He looked up when I got close and grinned like I was the best part of his night.

"My wife," he announced to no one in particular. "Everyone, this is my wife."

"Let us go," I said, and pulled out my card to settle his tab before he could argue about it.

"You are paying for me?" He looked delighted by this. "That is very wifely of you."

"Get up, Stefan."

He got up, unsteady, and let me guide him out to the car with one hand loosely wrapped around my wrist the whole way, like he needed the anchor and did not want to admit that either.

The drive to his place was quiet except for him humming something under his breath, off-key and content.

He gave me his door code before I even asked for it, mumbling the numbers twice to make sure I had them right. When we got inside,

I stopped just past the door, because nothing about the space matched the man currently leaning on my shoulder.

I had expected something cold. Glass and steel, the kind of place built to impress rather than to live in. Instead the room was warm, soft lighting, shelves lined with books that looked read rather than displayed, a worn blanket thrown over the back of a chair like someone actually sat there most nights.

"This is your house?" I asked.

"Disappointed?" He asked, dropping onto the couch and closed his eyes.

"No." I looked around again. "Just surprised."

"Do not fall asleep with your shoes on," I said.

"You sound like someone's mother."

"I sound like someone who does not want to deal with you complaining about your feet tomorrow."

He laughed at that, and for a second the man sitting there did not match either the reckless headline or the careful stranger from across a negotiating table. He was just a tired man on a couch, who snored heavily while sleeping.

“Is this what I have to deal with when we get married?” I asked, talking to no one in particular.

I found the kitchen easily enough and made him something for the morning, the same soup my father used to make me after long nights when I was younger. I left it on the counter with a note beside it.

If you are going to marry me, you do not get to keep doing this. Eat the soup for your hangover, if you like.

I let myself out and locked the door behind me.

By the time I got back to Lawson Mansion, the house was dark except for one light near the side entrance. I slipped through quietly, careful not to wake anyone, and nearly walked straight into Mia doing the exact same thing.

She froze halfway through pushing a boy out the side door, both of them clearly hoping the shadows would cover for them.

"Hanna." She recovered fast, smoothing her hair like that would explain anything. "You are out late."

"So are you."

The boy mumbled something about needing to go and disappeared into the dark without a proper goodbye.

I smiled watching the boy run away. "Does Lucas know you are doing this?"

Mia's face changed for a second. "Why would Lucas need to know what I do? He was with you, Hanna. Not me."

"Interesting that you brought that up first."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." I smiled again. "I am just saying, you defended yourself before I even accused you of anything."

"You are reading way too much into this."

"Maybe," I crossed my arms. "Or maybe you have spent years being very careful about where Lucas's name lands, and you just are not used to slipping."

"I am not slipping." Her voice climbed a notch. "You are the one who blocked him for weeks and then met him in the garden today like nothing happened. So do not stand there acting like you have some kind of moral high ground over me sneaking a boy out a side door."

"Wow, you even knew I met him today and I never said I had a moral high ground."

"You did not have to say it. It is all over your face."

"You know," I said, "it is funny. Every time I bring up something small, you jump straight to defending yourself against something bigger. Like your mind is already three steps ahead of where the conversation actually is."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Say what you mean, Hanna."

I nearly did. The words were right there, ready to go about the whole truth about her and Lucas. I wanted to spill it all right then and watch her face fall apart. Heaven knows I had pictured it a hundred times before.

But the timing was wrong. I needed Stefan tied to my name first. I needed everything lined up perfectly.

"I do not mean anything," I said instead. "I am tired, Mia. I am going to bed."

I turned toward the stairs.

"Where were you tonight, anyway?" she called after me. "You disappeared right after dinner and came back smelling like a bar."

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Just out." I did not turn around. "Goodnight, Mia."

I took three steps before her voice stopped me. It was quieter now. The fake act was gone.

"You are hiding something, aren't you?"

I froze. My hand gripped the banister, my back still to her. I let the question hang in the dark hallway between us just a second too long.