Page 4 of Desperate Vows

Dark hair, neatly braided, draped over her shoulder and nearly touched parts of her I had to work on not to think about it. Just how long was her hair? How soft? I could picture myself running my fingers through it. I suspect it was like satin. A feathery kiss against my skin.

Her glossy pink lips were pure temptation. Did she know how sexy she was? How could she not? I pushed away less-than-admirable thoughts about what I could do with them. In my gut, I knew it’d be a battle to keep them from the forefront of my mind long after she left my establishment.

“I’ll sign a contract. I’ll make sure it’s airtight just to put you at ease. All I need is a few weeks of your time. We don’t even have to live together. I just?—”

Wait. Did she mean divorce? Because that wasn’t our way. Yes, we needed the money, but I wasn’t getting married just so I could get a divorce. My mom was weeping as she looked down from heaven at the mere suggestion. Kalantzis didn’t get divorced. The ‘til-death-do-us-part in the vows was a threat, not a pledge.

“No,” I said, hoping the firm tone conveyed the finality of the decision. No marriage. No divorce. No chance.

“What?”

“I said no.”

“But I know you need the money.”

It may as well have been daggers she’d thrown at me. In an instant, I was a bottle of fury. “Get out.” I stood and pointed to the door. “Get out now.” It was less about my need to get her out of the restaurant and more about my need to keep my hands from wrapping around her throat.

I was already halfway to my office, confident she sensed my anger and split. When her cool fingers tugged on my hand, shock was an understatement. The girl had nerve; I’d give her that.

“Mr. Kalantzis, you didn’t even hear me out.”

Jerking my hand away, I didn’t even slow down as I threw my reply over my shoulder. “I don’t have to hear you out. The answer is no. I will not marry you. You could offer to rope the moon and kiss the sun with your bare lips, and I still wouldn’t marry you.”

She rushed ahead of me and held out her hands in an attempt to stop me. “Please. Please hear me out.”

I didn’t normally try to scare women. At least, not anymore, but I loomed over her. I wanted her to feel so small that she’d tuck her tail and run. Step after step. I didn’t stop until her back was firmly pressed against the wall, and her eyes were wide as saucers. “Get out and never, ever darken the door of my restaurant again for as long as you breathe.”

I expected fear in her eyes, but what filled them wasn’t anywhere near that. It was agony. Her skin turned almost as green as her eyes. My anger was tempered by my curiosity.

The door to the restaurant opened, and she stilled the moment two men stepped inside. Their voices carried, and we both knew at least one of them.

Franklin Benoit.

Her manicured fingers dug into my lapels. “Where’s the back door?” The demand was sharp, her words laced with a tremor that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes, wide and a little frantic, darted in the direction of the voices growing closer. “Please.”

I pointed, indicating she needed to walk straight and then take a left.

Claire’s intense gaze made my heart rate spike. It felt like she was peering into my soul, and I felt naked under the intensity. “Don’t believe anything he says.”

Before I could respond, she was in a full-tilt run. As confused and hungry for answers as I was, I was more interested in the man who made her run.

Franklin Benoit. The name itself sent a jolt through me. Years of whispers and rumors coalesced into a living, breathing person now in my restaurant. On the outside, he was a saint, but inside, he was the devil. He had his hands in unspeakable things. Hurting women. Hurting my baby sister. Sunshine and rainbows and gone far too soon from this earth. We’d buried her and my dad only months before Momma died of a broken heart.

If it was the last thing I did, I was going to kill that man. I was going to paint the walls with his blood and hang him from a bridge with his sins written out for everyone to see. My family would see justice, even if justice didn’t want to see us.

I met my baby brother, Ari, and the short, thin-faced devil accompanied by his French equivalent of an enforcer, Remy Durand, and steeled my features until I knew they were unreadable. “Mr. Benoit, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The man smiled. He had at least twenty years on me, age-wise. I based that on the salt and pepper in his hair. “I thought it was past time that you and I officially met.” He extended his hand and shook mine. “Your brother also tells me you serve the best lamb in town. I love lamb.”

It took every ounce of constraint I had not to lay him flat where he stood, even at the risk of destroying our business. I would have, too. If it weren’t for the fact that we didn’t want to just wreck him, we wanted to wreck his entire empire. If he was here, there was a reason, and it wasn’t because the lamb was exceptional.

Franklin looked at his enforcer. “Wait outside for me.”

The man eyed me and then Ari. It was obvious the guy didn’t like that idea. He didn’t voice it, though.

“Go,” Franklin said in a firm tone. “I’ll be fine.”

Remy took one more look, turned, and stomped out of the restaurant.

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