The Sinister Vow ✓

Chapter two

Veronica's pov:

My gaze shifted towards Leon Westwood as he confidently made his way towards us, a self-assured grin plastered across his face. There was something about him that had always struck me as off, perhaps it was his unkempt beard that seemed out of place on his otherwise well-groomed appearance. Nevertheless, I kept my thoughts to myself, allowing his words to unfold.

Leon stood before us, his gaze sweeping over me, conducting an appraisal from head to toe. It made me uneasy, as if I were merely an object to be evaluated and acquired. My discomfort grew as he turned his attention to my father, his voice laced with rehearsed charm as he spoke.

"I would be honored to have the privilege of your daughter's hand," Leon declared, his words saturated with an excess of sweet promises. "I will cherish her for a lifetime, making her the happiest woman alive."

Internally, I rolled my eyes at the abundance of sweet talk. It felt disingenuous, as if he were trying too hard to win my father's favor. There was something about his demeanor, his exaggerated display of affection, that raised red flags in my mind. Leon seemed like the clingy type, someone who would smother rather than support.

As Leon concluded his spiel and walked away, my father's eyes followed his retreating figure with a sense of satisfaction. He turned to me, his expression beaming with approval and excitement. "Veronica, my dear, I think we have found the perfect match for you," he exclaimed, unable to contain his joy.

I forced a smile, masking my reservations and doubts. Deep down, I knew that this was not the connection I sought. There had to be more to love than mere grand gestures and empty promises.

As I summoned every ounce of courage within me, I spoke up, my voice filled with trepidation. "Dad, I understand that Leon offered more than just financial security, but I can't ignore my instincts. There's something about him that doesn't feel right to me. I want a love that is genuine and built on a foundation of mutual respect and understanding."

My father's face contorted with anger, his frustration mounting. He turned sharply towards me, his voice laced with fury. "What did you just say? The man offers you love, and yet you're still not damn satisfied? What else do you want, Veronica? Haven't I sacrificed enough for you?"

Tears welled up in my eyes as his words pierced through my heart. I never intended to cause him pain, but I couldn't ignore my own desires and convictions. I mustered the strength to speak again, my voice quivering. "Dad, I don't mean to disappoint you, but I can't force myself into a loveless marriage. It wouldn't be fair to any of us. I want to find a partner who truly understands and cherishes me for who I am."

His face grew red with anger as he interrupted me, his voice booming. "Don't even start, Veronica! You have no idea what it took to provide for you, to keep this family afloat. I've worked day and night, sacrificed my own happiness, and this is how you repay me? By defying me?"

Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I glanced around the spinning room. I felt a deep ache within my chest, torn between the love I had for my father and the longing for a life filled with authentic love and happiness. I realized then that our dreams and aspirations were clashing, causing a painful rift to form between us.

As my eyes scanned the room, desperately seeking an alternative to the unsuitable suitors before me, they landed on a figure that commanded my attention. Time seemed to slow down as my gaze fixated on his captivating presence. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him—he was like a magnet drawing me in.

"Eye cake" I whispered softly to myself, assigning him a name that captured his striking appearance. The moniker seemed fitting, for his eyes held an intensity that pierced through the chaos of the room. It was as if he saw through the superficiality and into the depths of my soul.

My heart skipped a beat as I deduced that he must be the personal bodyguard of one of the suitors. In a simple black shirt and jeans, he exuded a powerful aura that was impossible to ignore. His toned arms, adorned with intricate tattoos, suggested a hidden depth and complexity. It was both captivating and intimidating, like a delicate balance between light and darkness.

There was something about him that stirred a mixture of curiosity and intrigue within me. His strong presence and the enigmatic air that surrounded him evoked a sense of danger, a thrill that danced on the edge of my consciousness. I couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath that cool exterior, what secrets he held within.

As my eyes locked with his, I felt a surge of electricity pass between us—an unspoken connection that transcended words. It was as if we existed in our own private world, detached from the bustling soirée unfolding around us. In that moment, the possibility of his companionship felt like a lifeline, a chance to break free from the suffocating expectations that threatened to confine me.

Turning to my father, I mustered the courage to voice my newfound inclination. "How about him?" I asked, my finger pointing directly at him.

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