Dom Vadim's Vow

Late

Essie walked into the banquet hall feeling nervous. She was more than forty minutes late. She was never late. It went against the grain of who she was and as she and Monty slipped into their seats at the rounded tables she felt the annoyed glare of her supervisor on her skin.

She was screwed. It didn’t matter she came highly recommended, admittedly extorted, to him from her college professor. He specifically asked her to attend this event and she was late. She kept her eyes down and stared at the plate while the person on the stage continued speaking about the past year’s donations and how the museum couldn’t exist without the significant contributions of their sponsors.

Monty squeezed her hand and gave her a wink, clearly not giving an ounce of concern for the fact they were tardy.

Getting to work at the museum in Sydney was not a dream come true for her, but it was the only job she could get where she wouldn’t be found, and it was in her field of study. Now, because she was head over heels with a man who liked quick s*x, she stupidly pissed off the one man who controlled her employment over the last seven years.

Sydney became a safe haven for her when she decided to let the world burn and ran away from home with the handful of cash her best friend gave her and the help of her favorite college professor. She held no ties, no connections and no affiliation with Australia so moving to the country and severing all ties was easier than anywhere else. With the help of Professor Carta, the museum hired her, agreeing to take her with the fake last name.

This job was her salvation, and she now may have butchered it beyond repair. Despite Monty’s reassurances, she was on the verge of vomiting from the nervous fluttering in her tummy.

Her eyes flicked back to the speaker who was now introducing a new patron of the museum. Avoiding the glare of her supervisor, her eyes drifted around the hotel ballroom where the banquet was being held and she locked eyes with a pair of midnight black eyes and her heart came to a full stop. Time froze around her as one sardonic eyebrow lifted, and a slight twist of his lip told her he knew exactly who she was. Despite the fact she ditched her glasses for contacts, changed her hair from the glossy blonde to a deep brown and switched her entire wardrobe away from her college chic into professional mode, he knew who she was.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Vadim Tudor.”

Thunderous applause floated around her, and she heard nothing but high-pitched whistling in her ears as her blood pounded. She was going to pass out and despite the entire ballroom on their feet clapping, she remained seated, unable to ascertain if she was going to be able to take her next breath.

Now her boss was truly angry as he motioned furiously at her to get up and Monty pulled her to a standing position.

“Essie, what the hell is wrong with you?” Monty whispered as her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m not feeling well,” she cupped her hands over her mouth knowing she was going to puke. Her boss made wide eyes at the motion, and she quickly ran from the table and in the direction of the ladies’ room. Once inside, she pulled the stall door open and let it crash behind her, vomiting the entire contents of the snack she’d eaten before her shower into the porcelain bowl.

“Oh dear,” the sound of Mrs. Richardson, her boss’s wife entering behind her. “You’re ill. Why didn’t you simply call in?”

She shook her head vehemently, aware this could be a damn good reason for her being late but unwilling and incapable of verbalizing anything as panic seared her soul. Vadim was here and he saw her. If he knew she was here, it meant her grandfather knew. Her mother and sisters likely hated her guts, but she’d done what needed to be done seven years ago.

Stealing her sister’s boyfriend was never on her list of things to experience in her life, especially when said boyfriend was Vadim Tudor. The man was a scary motherfucker, and she didn’t want anything to do with him. Least of all procreate with him. In the end, not a month after the day her grandfather told her she was marrying him, while her mother and a wedding consultant planned her wedding at a lovely boutique in the center of London, she excused herself to the bathroom, snuck out a side door, climbed into a taxi and made her escape.

She didn’t know what happened next in London. She never once reached out to anyone. Her best friend Aisha was an orphan who was gifted a scholarship. Aisha left London the same day she did to pursue her career in Japan and while she came to Australia multiple times in the last seven years, it was always for business. Aisha would accompany her boss on business trips to Sydney, and she would meet up with her in various places and never in the same place twice. They never discussed any of the news from London and Essence hadn’t even a single time ran an internet search on her family out of fear it would conjure them like an evil spirit.

In her heart of hearts, she knew her mother and sisters would blame her but at the end of the day it was her grandfather’s decision to cut them off, not hers. Her mother hadn’t even attempted to speak up for her and was all for the marriage.

She could still hear Eliska’s screams the day Essence returned to the mansion with her bags from her apartment near Cambridge. Her sister calling her a man-stealing-w***e was the lesser of all the insults she hurled at her while Vadim simply stood still with a neutral expression on his face. Her grandfather remained locked in his study ignoring the dramatics between the sisters.

Clearly Eliska didn’t think of blaming anyone but Essence for the absurd situation. For days she followed her around the house harassing her. It was only on the third day when Eliska took an antique vase and whipped it at Essence, shattering it against the wall inches from her head, did her grandfather emerge from his office, telling Eliska she was responsible to pay the damages for the million-dollar heirloom and then ordered the guards to throw Eliska from the house, banning her from returning until she could behave appropriately.

Vadim hadn’t even glanced in Eliska’s direction during any of the altercation, merely watching the way Essence stoically took all the insults, assault, and innuendo from her elder sister. Eulalie’s panic attack from the chaos sent her mother into a tailspin dragging the youngest of the three girls to her room to calm her down.

Essence and Vadim stood silently in the foyer of the mansion eyeballing one other until he gave a snort, muttering under his breath about being scary and then disappearing into her grandfather’s office closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

In minutes she’d known what she’d needed to do but hiding from the man who frequented the top five richest billionaires in the world was going to be difficult. Her grandfather would track her down easily. It was only when Aisha suggested they talk to the Professor and the woman let her know she worked with an organization who helped women escape abusive families did she feel a breath of relief.

Professor Carta made her understand her grandfather’s decisions were his to bear. If he opted to cut family off because she wouldn’t obey, it was his decision and extorting her to accept the guilt over it was cruel.

Now as she stared at the swirling mess of her vomit flushing down the toilet while her boss’s wife rubbed her back soothingly, she was slammed with guilt once again. Did her grandfather truly cut her sisters and mother off? Did he release Eliska’s videos and sordid past to the press? Perhaps with her out of the picture, Vadim simply married Eliska and made her past disappear.

A panicky thought filled her head and she found herself wondering if Eliska was with Vadim here in Sydney. Would she need to face the pair of them? Bile rose in her throat again and she heaved over the toilet.

“Are you pregnant dear?”

“No,” she shook her head vehemently at the bold question from Mrs. Richardson. Her period was due in the coming days and the way her stomach was feeling she knew it wasn’t long off. “I’m not. I simply am not feeling well.”

“I do hope it’s not contagious,” the woman suddenly stepped back.

“I ate a sandwich earlier and I think the ham was off,” she lied through her teeth about the reason for her illness. The reason she was vomiting was a dark-eyed man with an axe to grind.

“Oh, well that’s good. I would hate to have to explain to everyone at our table you came and spread your germs like the plague,” the woman chortled at her joke.

She walked away from the woman and leaned over the sink, cupping water in her hand and swishing it around her mouth before spitting it out. She looked in the mirror, noting the flush of her cheeks now was nothing like the flush of them from the s*x she’d engaged in with Monty.

At the thought of the man, she gave another groan. She hadn’t told him a single thing about her life prior to arriving in Sydney. All he knew was she was English-born and moved to Australia for work. She’d left him alone with her boss at the table. He was often inappropriate and loved a good dirty joke. She crossed her fingers he was behaving correctly around her boss.

“We need to get back out there. Do you think you can hold it together a bit longer or do you need to go home?” Mrs. Richardson asked glancing longingly at the door.

“I’m fine,” she shook her head willing the nausea to pass. “I think I simply needed to get it out of my system.”

“Good, good. The museum director himself was the one who insisted to my husband his team be here this evening and when you weren’t he was quite annoyed. I will go ahead of you and give you a minute to fix your make up.” She motioned to the smudged mascara, “I’ll let them know you are under the weather from a touch of food poisoning and will be along shortly.”

She took some gasping breaths as the woman disappeared out of the bathroom with a happy wave and gripped the edge of the countertop. What on earth was she going to do?