Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 28 - 32

Chapter 28: Chapter 32

TW: Trigger Warning: Proceed With Caution.

I wash off my makeup for the third time because I can’t stop crying.

This cursed dinner party that Governor Adler is hosting tonight. I would ditch it, conjure an excuse, but I promised Grayson—pinkie promised. That’s practically a sacred vow. I swore I’d come, so I will come. Because that’s just what Avara does... she does what she’s told with a smile and no questions asked. An utter pushover and people pleaser. But I didn’t think I was. I’ve always just tried to be thoughtful, considerate and kind like she was. My mom, though her memories are romanticized in my head, she is the purest figment in my life.

I don’t understand the full scope of what my father did or what he’s into. I only know that his stain has tainted my brothers. They’re involved somehow, I just don’t know how deep because no one tells me anything. That’s about to change. If they won’t tell me, I’ll find out on my own.

I restart my makeup, putting on foundation, then concealer. I think of my mother, my mind gripping on the last of my memories, and my hand becomes steadier and steadier. Everything was so different then. Not only because things were calm but my dad has always been driven, but my mother’s death fuelled him with vim and vigor. The kind that he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. At first I found it admirable, inspiring even, but I don’t recognise what moral thresholds he had to cross in order to achieve his biggest political dream.

Once I’m ready, I head downstairs and out the front door, dressed in a shimmering gold dress with long sleeves and a high leg slit with a thin shawl that loops from arm-to-arm to protect me from the autumnal flurries. I enter the backseat of the black Benz with my father already seated next to me. The door closes and shortly we’re on our way.

"You look absolutely remarkable, Avie."

I nod gratefully, not daring to look at him. Even if I don’t say anything, my eyes will betray my truth; and his lie. He tilts forward and I evade his eyes, throwing my gaze out of the window.

"I wonder if there isn’t a reason for it. Though you always look stunning," he disclaims with a little laugh. "I can’t help but think that perhaps someone in attendance is your reason?"

I shake my head stiffly. "Vance is out of the country."

"I’m not talking about your fake boyfriend. I’m talking about Grayson Adler. The Governor wanted me to make sure you came on his behalf. He’s quite fond of you, difficult not to see why."

"Did you hear about the holiday?" I ask, diverting him off topic.

"Ah yes, it completely slipped my mind. But I think Colton has gone too far. I just told him about the incident and that if Landen ever came near you, I’d do a lot worse than revoke the alliance."

Is that why I haven’t heard from him? But knowing him, Landen Vacheron bows to no one.

"Then why didn’t you say no?"

"Because of the holiday itself, I agree. I think we could all use some time to get away and be free from everything, even if it’s just for a week. I just want to spend more time with you and my boys, you know, like it was. Even if the price is to deal with those conniving Vacherons, it’s a price I will pay."

"But you delayed it for this party. Why?"

He makes a pensive sound and gives a measured response. "Adler extended invitations to individuals that I have expressed a desire to be acquainted with, and reciprocally, I extended invitations to individuals whom he desires to meet. A mutually beneficial collaboration."

***

We arrive at the Adler’s manor grounds. The primary house is white limestone exteriors and industrial metals that outline the spectacle of huge windows that showcase the warm glow of interior lights. We follow the line of luxury cars inside the open gates, where there’s even a valet system in place. My father and I exit the car.

He soon sidles my flank and offers me his arm. I force a smile, and we hook arms, entering with the pairs of elite couples. A host ushers us to a dining room awash with aristocrats, which boasts enough space to occupy three-quarters of a football field. A few people flock over instantly to greet the Mayor and I, the governor not far behind. He comes with a group of intimidating men in tow, wearing sophisticated suits and repelling scowls.

Governor Adler introduces them by name but not position. I don’t know what makes them so important. I leave them, drifting through the room, eagerly avoiding conversations, but that doesn’t last long.

"Avara, is that you?"

Mrs Rostova. The wife of a Russian oligarch.

She releases a breathless slew of Russian as she approaches me.

I fix on a smile. "Mrs Rostova, how nice to see you again."

She yanks me into a hug, swaying me from side to side excitedly. "You’ve grown. In more ways than one, ey. I heard you dating big billionaire now. Glad to see you took my advice to find yourself rich husband."

I nod, scrunching up my nose. "I sure did."

"How are things, eh? No ring yet?"

"We’ve only been dating a couple of months."

"In a couple of months, I was pregnant with Maksim’s baby." She leans in, placing her manicured hand beside her mouth. "That’s how you trap them. With baby."

My eyes explode.

"Mrs Rostova."

I whirl around to see Grayson. A sight for sore eyes. He approaches with a regretful smile.

"Vash muzh yest myaso," he says in fluent Russian."

Rostova gasps in disbelief. "He knows his gout will flare up again. Bozhe, pomogi mne."

She scurries away with the inches of her high heels longer than my hand. I turn back around to face him with a relieved look.

"You’re welcome," he says without me needing to say anything.

I thank him with a hug, and he responds with a firm grip.

"Where’d you learn to speak Russian?"

A slight squint in his eyes is a subtle mark of ignorance on my part. "My uncle is the ambassador to the Russian embassy." He gives me a long once over, polite and yet there’s a hint of heat in his eyes. "I’m glad you came."

"Only because you’re here."

A server coasts by and Grayson removes two cocktails from their tray.

"Here." He offers me one. "You look like you need it."

"I don’t drink."

"The pink ones are non-alcoholic."

"Strawberry daiquiri?" I take it. "Yum."

I take a dainty sip—sweet and refreshing.

He tips his head back for a long draw.

"So, I get you wanting me to be here. How come your dad is so insistent?"

He sends me an irritable look. "Plotting the course of my entire life isn’t enough. He wants to pick the love of my life as well. And he likes you, which is a miracle on its own. Your lineage emanates from an esteemed family, a distinguished name, and your reputation alone complies with his standards. A union that would provide mutual benefits due to the newly forged familial connections between our fathers."

I try with every fiber of my being, but it comes out. I implode into laughter. Not because in any realm is it funny, but ironic because of the nature of my relationship with Vance and the true reasons behind its origins.

He smiles good-naturedly as I laugh in his face.

"Yes, I know. The thought of being with me is inconceivable."

The more I resist, the harder it is to stop. So I let it all out.

"It wasn’t even my idea," he says to try to put himself out of his own misery that much faster. "And obviously I’d never go along with it, and not because you’re with Vance." He snorts bitterly. "As if that would stop me."

My laugh dies. I give him an inquisitive look. "Oh yeah, and why wouldn’t that stop you?"

"Because you’re not happy with him. We’re not close, but that much I know as a fact. We’ve attended the same events together for years. We’re like two students who always end up in the same class every year. I’ve seen how you are when you’re happy. You’re happy around Kelsey, smiling brightly around your brothers, but never around Vance. In fact, he dims your light, and that’s just... unfortunate that you’d subject yourself to that."

I take another sip, this one even longer. "It’s complicated. But I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t care about him."

"Care?" He tilts his head back to echo a laugh to the heavens, exposing his throat. "Care is what might bring people together, but love is what keeps them. So what’s really keeping you two together?"

I bring the rim of the glass to my lips to hide a smile. "Why do you even care?"

"I care."

"Why?"

He raises his shoulder, and it lingers there for a bit before he drops it. "Just do."

"Wouldn’t have known," I say, mimicking his shrug. "You’ve always treated me like we’re students. I’m cool enough to talk to at school, but not cool enough to hang out with, outside of school."

He gapes at me, revealing a winning smile. "You kidding? I didn’t think I had a chance with the golden girl."

"And I didn’t think the popular jock noticed me."

He bellows another laugh, drawing curious eyes.

"Wow, how we both had it wrong." His eyes rake over me again. "I guess I missed my chance."

I nod, smiling meekly. "I guess so."

I glance around and people are staring like they’re watching something scandalous unfolding. My eyes find my father and he’s entertaining the governor and his entourage. It makes me wish Kelsey was here, but Grayson is a blest substitution for the time being. Even though people are looking at me like I’m committing adultery.

"Hey, is there somewhere more private we can go to talk?"

He scans the room to see the room is scanning us. He nods and motions for me to follow, and I do. Grayson deposits his empty glass on a random table surface posted beside the archway. We leave the dining room to reach the dual, curved staircase that leads to the gallery box, connecting all three landings of the manor. And he takes me to the top floor, sequestered from everyone, the dull roar surrendering to the din of silence as everything to the point I don’t hear any sound but our footsteps.

"I want to show you something you might like."

He leads me to a bedroom, its soft golden glow spilling from a few antique lamps scattered around. The rich scent of aged wood and a faint trace of lavender linger in the air. Ornate carvings decorate the heavy oak door as he swings it open, revealing a grand space that feels like a page torn from a forgotten era.

He gestures toward the balcony, and my eyes are drawn to the Romanesque pillars flanking the archway. Their smooth, short columns catch the light, casting subtle shadows across the stone floor. The cool night air flows in, carrying the distant chirp of crickets and the faint rustle of leaves. In a leisurely manner, I make my way to the structure, where I proceed to place my empty cocktail glass upon the flat surface, the crowning feature of the pillar. I come outside to the oversize balcony.

Slumbering in its midnight blue robe, welcomed by the sea buzzing with its dormant strength, the waves crawling gently to the shore. I breathe in, inhaling the brine of salt-scented winds.

"Pretty."

Grayson encroaches my rear. He doesn’t touch me, but he’s too close for comfort.

"Too pretty."

His arms snake around me from behind, pulling me close to him— alarm blazing through me.

"Grayson." Dread takes a hold of my spine. "What are you doing?"

"Making you happy."

He buries his face into my neck, dotting kisses down until my collarbone. His hand spills inside the slit of the dress, pushing it slightly higher. Terror pins me down where I stand, my bones turning into jelly. My throat is hollow. His fingers trail up my inner thigh, teasing the skin beneath the band of my underwear before his fingers slip in and he forces them inside of me—my breathing snags. Both hands clutch his forearm, but my pathetic effort to stop him makes him even more ferocious. He thrusts his fingers even deeper and starts pumping them at a mind-numbing tempo, penetrating deeper with every motion.

"Grayson." A breathless pant. "Grayson—stop."

But he doesn’t. Instincts override—I pivot and my elbow connects with his chin in a swift jab, jerking him back, loosening his grip enough for me to yank his hand out. I bolt for the door, but by the time I reach the doorway. He latches onto my ponytail—my hands fly back, knocking the cocktail glass on the floor and it shatters on the ground.

"Grayson!" I cry out as a nameless fear engulfs me. "Please, stop!"

"Don’t act like you don’t want this."

"It’s not an act. Let me go!"

He releases me. And he launches his fist at my jaw, and pain explodes through my face. The blow knocks me into the pillar and I land on the floor on my stomach. The world spins sickly, the ceiling and floor mixing together. I can hear him. He’s unbuckling his belt. Adrenaline crashes through me, lending me the courage I desperately need. He grabs me, but I seize a large fragment just in time. Skin skidding with my dress skating upwards as he pulls me closer to him. And he turns me over and I plunge the shard of glass into his shoulder, spurting blood. We both scream. He backs away, stumbling, flailing wildly. I scramble back up and I ran out of the room. I pause only to take off my shoes, discarding them where they are. I flee to the ground floor, ignoring the rough ache erupting between my legs.

I stop in my tracks once I see my father, Adler, and the men they introduced us to exiting the party. They come towards me. I retreat back up the staircase, receding into a random corridor on the first floor. The throng of suited men hike up the steps, followed by security. I use the shadow of the alcove to conceal me. All the men enter the first room in the opposite corridor. The security guards in tow position themselves in front of the door, patrolling the entrance.