Page 132 of Reckless Vow

“Let go of me.” I kick his shin.

He grunts and loosens his grip. A jolt of excitement electrifies my spine and I run.

The penthouse sprawls before me. I glimpse the floor to ceiling windows, featuring Central Park bathed in the first rays of sun.

Marble floors stretch beneath my feet, slick and slippery.

The opulent decor blurs into a dizzying rush of colors and shapes as I dart through the open living area.

The problem is, I don’t know the space. Every choice is a gamble, every door a potential trap. But the thrill… the thrill of the chase ignites me with wild exhilaration.

What’s wrong with me? I don’t understand the part of me that revels in this twisted game of cat and mouse.

And yet, adrenaline courses through me like an awakening, a dark and perverse revelation of my true nature. And with Baldo playing along, instead of judging, I’m growing to accept this side of me.

I don’t sense him behind me, but when I chance a look over my shoulder… He hasn’t moved, but his eyes follow me with an aloof coldness. Like the predator waiting for his prey to tire out.

Jesus, he is hot.

My breath comes in ragged gasps.

I stop behind the sofa, gripping the backrest like I could throw the furniture at him. He advances with cat-like grace, prowling in my direction.

No rush.

Just calculated precision.

In control, as usual.

He rounds the love seat and a glass coffee table. There is only the sofa between us.

My eyes dart toward the large double doors to my left, and then to a hallway to my right.

The moment I return my attention to him, I know I shouldn’t have distracted myself.

He lunges over the backrest. I yelp, but without thinking I react and slide to the side.

He grabs me around my waist.

We lose balance and collapse to the floor. I fight with everything I have, like a woman possessed.

Baldo grunts as I elbow him, but it doesn’t slow him down at all. I kick my legs to no avail. The man has straddled me.

I graze his cheek with my finger, drawing blood. He hisses and seizes both my wrists, forcing my hands above my head.

We pant, glaring at each other.

“Your luggage—”

We spring to our feet, emerging from behind the sofa probably looking like we just fought. Which would be accurate.

The bellhop blinks a few times. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” Baldo casually steps around the sofa, approaching the bewildered young man whose eyes stay on me.

Good man, making sure the lady isn’t in peril.

I force a smile, and as soon as my lips curl up, the absurdity of the situation hits me and I giggle.

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