Page 69 of Reckless Vow

We’re standing by a tall, round table near the dance floor. The rest of the group is dancing, but I lost all interest as soon as I found out where we were going.

“Excuse me?” I cock my head, but Miguel is smirking.

“You’ve had this one drink since we came.”

I laugh. “Sorry. It’s not my kind of place.”

It’s so my kind of place. I love everything about it. The VIP rooms are upstairs, with glass overlooking the dance floor down here.

There are actually three dance floors, one on each floor, each playing different music.

The service is great. It would be fun, if this wasn’thisclub.

Miguel runs his hand down my arm and lands it on my hip. I don’t want it there and try to step back.

He asks me something, but the DJ blares something in the speakers, so I yell, “What?”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Miguel repeats, and immediately jerks his head back.

“I’d take that question back and leave if I were you,” the velvet baritone echoes behind me. Only its sound is far from velvet, more like scratchy linen.

I whip around, and the sight momentarily takes me aback. Baldo wears jeans and a black button-down, not his usual suit. His hair is messed up on top, as if he’s been running his hand through it.

His sleeves are rolled up, and how did I not know his arms are inked? Somehow I absorb all of this in the blink of an eye, before I remember what’s going on.

“What the fuck?” And just to make a point—not sure yet what kind of a point—I step closer to Miguel.

The wrong move, because Miguel decides to wrap his arm around my waist.

First, I don’t want him to fucking touch me. Second, based on the fury in Baldo’s eyes, the gesture might cost Miguel a limb.

Baldo steps forward, his lips curling into a smirk. “Let. Go. Of. Her.”

Aside from the burning eyes, there is no sign of this being a disagreement. To anyone around us, he would look composed.

Or maybe just to me. So in contrast with my heart galloping in my chest.

I’m partially furious that he would dare interfere, and partially excited that he’s jealous. I’m a lost cause when it comes to this man.

Despite that, how dare he?

“Who is this?” Miguel drops his hand and turns to me.

“The man who will break your arm if you touch her again,” Baldo growls.

“Fuck you,” Miguel spits. “I don’t need this shit.” He looks at me. “At least you were a cheap date.” He shakes his head and turns to leave.

He doesn’t make it far. Baldo grabs his collar, and now the people around us have certainly realized something is going on.

“Baldo,” I yelp as his fist connects with Miguel’s jaw.

The room around us erupts in gasps and cheers, while the rest of the club continues its normal flow.

Miguel stumbles, swearing, holding his chin.

“Mr. Cassinetti, we take it from here.” A bulky man appears from somewhere and grabs Miguel. His colleague steps in front of Baldo and me.

“You’re Cassinetti, the owner?” Miguel gawks, his lip already swollen.

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