Page 108 of Reckless Vow

“My wife.”

The jerk of his eyebrows is nearly imperceptible. He’s surprised. It’s good to catch him off guard.

“Congratulations. That’s why you stopped the surveillance.”

I nod. No need to tell him I stopped checking up on Brook because I finally decided my obsession with her was counterproductive to my efforts to put the past behind me.

In hindsight, I would have known she was in New York and never traveled there.

“Women don’t appreciate being watched.”

He addresses the words to his keyboard, already typing away, and something tells me he’s speaking from his own experience. Did he spy on his wife?

He finishes typing and looks at me, folding his hands behind his head, his huge muscles bulging. A former illegal fighter, he still keeps in very good shape.

“I’ll do my best.” He glances toward the door, dismissing me.

“Thank you.” I stand up and extend my hand.

He shakes it, but before I turn, I can’t help it. “Why is she in Madrid right now?”

He smirks. “Interesting.”

The fucker. I glower at him, and he chuckles.

“You would have it in your monthly report,” he taunts, but runs his fingers over his keyboard. “She took an evening flight and went straight to a hotel where she joined someone in their room.”

I should be concerned how quickly he got that information, but I’m too riled up by the facts to contemplate that.

“Whose room?”

He smirks. “You should talk to your wife.”

* * *

The flight back to Lisbon is fucking long. Too long. My blood sizzles with unanswered questions.

It will take time before Art finds Brook’s assailant. If he finds him after all this time with no police reports. If the nickname doesn’t lead to the real identity, I might never face the man.

But that was something I anticipated.

Brook sneaking to Madrid, on the other hand…

By the time the pilot announces our landing, I’m practically vibrating with energy. And not the good kind.

I want to murder someone. It doesn’t help that I haven’t slept well for almost three nights. Or eaten properly. My lovely wife will be the death of me.

My driver pulls up to my building. It’s before lunch, and the crew is probably just finishing the club’s clean up.

Normally I’d check on everything and head to my office first, but today I take the back entrance and head upstairs.

She’s not here. Fuck. For all I know, she’s still in Madrid.

I trudge downstairs to my office, hoping for some quiet time to collect my thoughts.

“Well, look who’s back.” Chloe smirks from my chair.

So much for peace and quiet. “Get out of my seat.”

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