Lies & Vows

SERENA'S POV

Huh!

She gasped, taking a step back as if I were about to attack her.

I rolled my eyes and stopped a few meters away, the smile slowly fading from my face. I locked eyes with each of them, one after another.

They looked down, unable to maintain eye contact, shifting uncomfortably as they fiddled with their fingers.

The silence was deafening, leaving them squirming in guilt. I couldn't help but relish every moment of it.

Cowards, I scoffed inwardly.

"We... we... were..." the redhead stammered, managing to glance up at me.

Nice. She wasn't entirely made of cowardly bones after all.

"Nice dress, by the way. Serene?" I asked, lifting my hand as if I might touch the fabric. She tried to take a step back but froze halfway as the realization hit her.

"Yes, I got it at Serene," she responded, her composure slowly returning with the compliment.

I nodded approvingly. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies."

"Yes, Miss Giovanni,"

I turned and walked back toward the ballroom. As I did, I heard one of them let out a long sigh of relief.

"So you let them go because Gina's wearing your dress, hmm?" Antonio's British-accented voice reached me before I saw him.

I didn't need to look at him to know his mocking tone.

"I'm a businesswoman, after all. My father's daughter through and through, anything for the business," I said, my voice carrying a note of smug satisfaction.

I never planned to do anything drastic, I just wanted a bit of fun.

"Ooh, don't compare yourself to that good old man, you devil," Antonio responded, his voice dripping with mock horror.

I grinned in response as we entered the warm, cozy interior, the scent of polished wood mixing with the low hum of quiet conversations.

Antonio is a fine Englishman, my father's wingman, though not much older than me.

But what he lacked in age, he made up for in efficiency.

His mother, a British beauty, and his Latino father-he grew up with her in England before deciding, at sixteen, to join his father in Nevada, one of the Black Diamond members.

Surprisingly, Antonio's was the one friend who stuck around all these years.

"You are not my bodyguard, Antonio," I took a flute of champagne from a waiter.

"But I have to be, because you are menace," he replied, deftly snatching the drink from my hand and downing it in one go before flashing me a satisfied grin.

"If cruelty were a person..." I stopped in my tracks, exasperated, as I watched him signal to another waiter.

"I learned from the best, remember?" he said, raising his cup toward me.

I shrugged, a grin tugging at my lips. Vanity was my undoing, I just couldn't help but enjoy the praise.

He grabbed two champagne glasses from the waiter and offered me one.

I didn't bother reaching for it, already knowing the outcome. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed to my table.

"I see you've learned a great deal," Antonio chuckled, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Monster, he must've hurriedly downed those drinks.

"Go away," I muttered under my breath. The eyes of everyone in the room were on us, their gaze burning.

"And leave this damsel alone?" he raised a brow, chuckling.

"Why don't you go? There are ladies all around who I'm sure crave your attention more than I do," I was currently feeling their gazes burn holes through my teal-green dress.

Antonio always attracted women like flies. A curse and a blessing, I guess, thanks to his late father's charm.

And yet, he was another reason why I wasn't liked among the younger women of my father's cartel.

"But I've got the best right here," He winked as I spotted my father, speaking to someone whose back was turned to us.

They seemed a little too close, my father laughing as he gave the man a friendly pat on the shoulder. He was genuinely enjoying the conversation-an unusual sight, considering how many times he'd feigned interest before.

"Who's that?" I asked Antonio, equally curious.

"I don't know, but we could find out,"

"Sorry, but not interested," I turned into another row, quickly avoiding Antonio's hand reaching out for me.

"...and ooh, there she is, Serena!" I heard the old man's voice, but I kept walking.

"Serena!" My father's voice boomed through the hall.

There was no pretending now. Everyone's eyes were on me, that shameless man. I shook my head in silent grief as I approached him.

"Ooh, Papa, you shouldn't shout too much. Remember what the doctor said about your health?" I smiled brightly, gritting my teeth.

As I walked toward him, the hall slowly returned to its previous hum, though I could feel the lingering curiosity in the air.

Sorry, no drama at my expense today. I thought to myself as I reached my father.

He pulled me in by my shoulder. At 67, he was still taller than my 5'7" frame, maintaining his good physique and looks.

Those were the two things I was grateful for from him, his height and his looks. People often said I resembled my late mother, but I didn't see much of the resemblance.

"Meet my beautiful daughter, Serena, the apple of my eye, and my heart's delight." He said with a flourish.

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, he should've been the actor, and not my late mother.

Still, his open affection for me, especially since I was his only child, always warmed my heart. Though my stepmother often criticized how spoiled I was, I couldn't deny there might be a grain of truth in her words.

"Meet Raphael, my son and business partner,"

I stared at him, utterly confused. Then I shouted without thinking, "Your son!?"