Page 133 of Vow to Claim You

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For not letting him take me. For standing up for me. For⁠—”

“You’re my sister.” I hold her tight. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls back, wiping her eyes. “What happens now?”

“Now?” I take a breath. “Now we figure out how to keep you safe. And I have a charity gala to plan.”

Naomi’s brows rise. “A what?”

“Long story. I’ll explain over dinner.” I manage a smile. “Welcome to Norway, little sister. Try not to fall for any brooding Vold brothers while you’re here.”

Her blush tells me everything I need to know.

Too late.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Aric

Ifind Eero in the corridor, leaning against the wall outside the guest suite—the one he personally selected for Naomi. He’s not even trying to be subtle.

“Brother.” He straightens when he sees me approach. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” I drawl, “and something was telling me that I’d find you right here. What are you doing here?”

“I’m… standing. In a hallway.”

“Outside her door?”

“Coincidence.”

“Eero.”

He sighs. Runs a hand through his unruly hair. For a moment, the mask slips—the easy grin, the careless charm—and I see something underneath.

Something that looks uncomfortably familiar.

“Walk with me,” I say.

We move through the house in silence. Past the library. Past the study. Past the gallery where portraits of dead Volds stare down in disapproval at every generation that follows. I lead him into my office, close the door, and turn to face him.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He’s still teasing, but it’s thin. “I’m being hospitable. She just fled her country. She’s scared, she’s alone, she’s⁠—”

“She’s Ayanna’s sister.”

“I’m aware.”

“She’s eighteen years old.”

“Also aware.”

“She just escaped a forced marriage arranged by her father, and she’s vulnerable in ways you can’t possibly understand.”

“I understand more than you think.” His voice has changed.

My brother has always been the light to my shadow. The warmth to my cold. Where I learned to lock everything away, he learned to let it spill over—emotions worn on his sleeve, charm deployed like a weapon, laughter used to deflect anything that gets too close.