Page 32 of Sacred Vow

She raises her chin, looks away, takes a deep breath. “How?”

“Marriage.” I drop the word like the heavy iron ball it is.

Her eyes widen like she’s just been given a death sentence. Placing her hand on her chest, she retreats back to the bed, only stopping when she can’t move back any further.

“Are you insane?”

“I must be.” The idea of having her as my wife grows more and more like a solid plan by the second.

“I should go back to my apartment.”

“No.”

“Stop telling me no.” Her cheeks redden again.

I need to consider this is a lot for her. Not remembering what happened, what she witnessed, and now she’s got the mafia chasing her to find out what she can’t remember. But if I let her go, they’ll find her. I found her with a simple phone call. That’s all it’s going to take for them, too.

I move further into the room. She puts her hands up, like that will do anything to keep me away.

“I’m not staying here, and I’m not marrying you,” she vows.

“It would be so horrible?”

“You don’t love me.” Her words are like glass hitting the floor. No matter where I tread, they will hurt.

“No.” I give a nod. “We don’t know each other well enough for that right now. But we’re talking about keeping you safe. If you’re married to me, we can work on getting your memory back. Together. You’ll have my name to protect you should you find something in your memory that could otherwise put you in danger.”

She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I’m not entirely sure she’s wrong.

“I don’t care what vow you made Craig. I release you from it.” She waves a hand through the air.

“It doesn’t work that way.” I wipe my hand across my mouth. I’m not going to beg. She wants to make the decision, that’s fine, but she has a choice to make. “If you don’t agree to a marriage, then you have to get out of Chicago. Those are your choices. Stay, get married, and I’ll help you find those memories, or you get on a plane out of town.”

“You are beyond help.” She shakes her head. “I’m going home.” She hurries to grab her clothing from the floor.

“No. Isolde, you’re not.” I step into the hallway and pull the door shut. Reaching up to the top of the doorframe, I trigger the outside lock.

That should hold her.

“You have Isolde Madson here?” Sergei, my cousin, questions me before I’m able to step off the last stair.

“I do.” I walk past him into the living room.

“Why?” He has his hands hooked on his hips.

“You know damn well why.” I go to the window, brush the curtain aside, and look out at the city. She’ll never be safe here without my name attached to her, and even then, it will take some doing to get the pricks to play nice.

“Because you promised that asshole you’d keep her safe.”

I turn enough to shoot him a glare. “She has no idea what he was involved with, and I don’t want her hearing it from you. Keep your fucking voice down.”

“You two fighting without me?” Viktor waltzes into the living room from the kitchen with a sandwich in hand.

“When did you get here?” I ask.

“An hour ago. You were busy when you came in, so I left you to it.” He sinks into the couch and bites into his sandwich.

“I didn’t realize we had a meeting today.”

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