Page 49 of A Vow Of Hate


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If I didn’t know better, I’d say he sounded like he cared. But I knew better, so I didn’t let his words deceive me.

“Shaky, but I’m okay.”

“Don’t lie,” he deadpanned. “You’ve practically been leaning all your weight on me.”

“And you didn’t let me fall,” I snapped quietly. “Thank you for your kindness, husband.”

His arm curled tighter around my waist. “Stop antagonizing me, Julianna. You know very well how that will end.”

My eyes darted toward three of the guests who were looking at us carefully, practically drinking in our postures and probably listening to what we were saying. Goddamn it. I hated these vultures. They were looking for something to gossip about.

I took a deep breath and smiled up at Killian. “You didn’t tell me how I looked this evening? Do you like the gown? It’s your favorite color.”

Killian’s gaze met mine, his dark eyes flaring in surprise. I watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. His head lowered, his cheek brushing against my mask. To someone else, this would have looked romantic and intimate.

“If your neckline was any lower, your nipples would be on display,” Killian rasped in my ear.

I asked for a compliment and I got a criticism instead. What else did I expect from my husband? Rolling my eyes, I dug my nails into the inside of his elbow. “That would be scandalizing, wouldn’t it?”

“All the more enticing.” I turned toward the voice that intruded our intimate exchange to find a man with dark hair, brown eyes, and a smirk on his lips. “I have to say, you look absolutely ravishing.”

“Watch it,” my husband growled.

“Oh, c’mon. I never took you for a territorial man, Killian. I’m just admiring your wife,” he drawled with a hint of a British accent.

“And you are?” I asked, eyeing him up and down. He was a big man, taller than Killian and with broader shoulders. But oh, his smirk was just as arrogant as my husband’s.

The man reached forward, and his hand practically engulfed mine – his brown skin, a stark contrast to my pale hand. He brought my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. His lips lingered there for a second too long. “Gabriel Evans,” he said, his voice thick and teasing. “An old friend of Killian’s and a business partner. He’s such a grump, isn’t he?”

I pressed my lips together, fighting back a laugh. “He’s a bit mad,” I agreed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gabriel.”

He grinned. “The pleasure is all mine, Julianna.”

“Mrs. Spencer,” Killian barked. “Gabriel, a word with you.”

Killian stalked away and Gabriel winked at me. “Grump,” he mouthed before following after my husband.

I took a sip of my champagne, watching the guests mingle together, while I felt so out of place. I did come from a wealthy family – the daughter of Bishop Romano – but this was only my second time at such an event.

Tonight, I was the center of attention. But I wasn’t used to crowds, let alone a whole masquerade ball – where I was openly on display for these people to pick apart, to judge and to dig for my vulnerabilities.

My father striding over to me caught my eyes. He ate the distance between us with powerful legs. William Spencer quickly followed and I found myself surrounded by the two men, both of them standing tall in expensive suits and practically crackling with testosterone.

“Where’s Killian?” William asked, coming to stand beside me.

I nodded toward the other end of the ballroom. “He’s talking to Gabriel. I guess it’s something important.”

Father nodded, his eyes darting to the guests before coming to me again. “You’re doing well, Julianna.”

My chest tightened. “You think so?”

“I never doubted it for a second,” he praised, his voice softening considerably.

How long had I waited for my father to say such words? God, this was exactly what I had wanted to hear for many years and he had said it so nonchalantly. Like this wasn’t the first time he had praised me so openly.

The back of my eyes burned and I blinked away the tears. This wasn’t the place to get emotional. I had to be regal and confident. Posh and fake. The perfect Spencer wife.

“Your father was just telling me that you play the cello,” William said slowly.

I smiled shakily. “I’m not a professional, but I can play fine. It used to be a hobby of mine.”

Gracelynn was a better cello player than me. She had taught me what I know and after years of practice, I was still not as good as she had been.

From my peripheral vision, I saw Killian crossing the ballroom, coming straight for me. So powerful, so confident, so imposing.

His dark gaze locked me in place, even though I was unsteady on my feet.

My heart leaped at the sight of Killian – dressed in an all-black Armani suit, a black masquerade mask, stalking toward me with mad purpose.

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