Page 105 of Vengeful Vows

“Please, call me Bree.”

She smiles wider but just ushers me out.

I finish getting ready in the hallway bathroom, taking my makeup with me.

When I return, the small dining table is set up in the middle of the room with a candelabra in the middle. There’s a white, lacy tablecloth covering it, and I find it quite adorable.

I smile, looking at it, and then Declan comes in behind me, putting a hand on my hip.

“You look amazing,” he says, right in my ear, and I shudder at his low tone.

I turn to look at him, and he’s wearing a black pair of tailored slacks and a silk shirt, halfway unbuttoned.

“You look great, too.” I smile.

He smiles back and goes to pull one chair back, gesturing for me to sit. I do.

He sits across from me as I cross my legs, and then Marisol and the other maid bring in the food.

The plates are huge, covered in what appears to be shrimp and steak.

My mouth is watering.

“I know how much you like surf and turf,” Declan says. “So, I asked for a special dinner.”

“Is that a T-bone?” I ask, loving my steak large and rare.

“Rare, just like you like it.” He grins at me.

He waits for me to take a bite, and I hesitate, wondering idly if it’s poisoned. But then he cuts into his steak, and I do the same.

The first bite tastes like sawdust on the back of my tongue.

Is this it? Is this the last moment I’ll have with Declan?

But Declan just frowns, pushing my plate toward me with his fork.

“Eat up, princess.” He grins wickedly. “You’re going to need your strength."

I nod and continue to eat, and eventually, it starts to taste amazing. “God, it’s so good. Perfectly cooked.”

“Marisol is a culinary genius.” Declan nods, chewing.

Marisol has also poured us a glass of wine—white for me, and red for Declan.

I hate red wine, and I guess she’s noticed that over the time I’ve been here. It strikes me as very sweet, and tears almost come to my eyes.

Declan seems to notice. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“This is just all so sweet,” I sniffle. “What made you think of this?”

I freeze, waiting for him to reveal that he knows, that he’s cracked the code. But as I wait, looking at him, I realize that there is a bruise across his cheekbone, and his knuckles seem raw.

“Did someone hurt you?” I ask, worried that it was my father’s men.

“Gray and I had a difference of opinion.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Fighting with your brother? Isn’t that a little immature?”

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