Page 111 of Reckless Vow

My imagination sparks with interest, already conjuring several scenarios, but maybe she’s just a heavy smoker, eager for her break.

I turn to watch as the club fills up, but my eyes keep landing on the staff entrance, hoping Baldo comes down in search of me.

Nursing only one drink and not partaking in the clubbing, I observe the crowd and wonder why I used to enjoy it so much.

I mean, I love to dance, but on the floor of Celeste’s studio or at home it brings me peace. At clubs, it was more about quieting the loud voices in my head.

But that noise has fallen silent since… since Baldo returned to my life. The man is infuriating, but I want him around.

And it’s not just for the orgasms. I groan inwardly.

I’m just going to force him to talk. I slide down the chair. Jesus. We haven’t even been married a month, and I’m exhausted from all the emotional whiplash.

I don’t make it far before a shrill alarm slices through the music. For a split second, everything freezes—the dancers, the bartenders, even the very air seems to hold its breath.

And then, as if the heavens themselves have opened up inside this dimly lit room, water cascades down from the sprinklers overhead.

Panic ignites faster than the fire that must have triggered the alarm. The crowd surges, pushing and shoving.

Water soaks through my clothes, plastering my hair to my face and turning the dance floor into a slippery mess.

My first thought, absurdly, is that Baldo is going to kill someone for ruining the polished wood.

I need to find him.

He must be somewhere here, trying to evacuate the club safely. My heart pounds as I push against the flow, my eyes scanning faces for him.

He’s nowhere.

My throat constricts, panic clawing its way up.

I glance toward the bar and realize that’s where the fire started. It seems contained already, but the image of the flickering lighter in the hands of the young woman behind the bar stops me in my tracks.

“Ma’am, you need to leave. Now!” a bulky man urges. I recognize him from the other night, throwing Miguel out.

His voice cuts through, authoritative and impossible to ignore.

I shake my head, water flinging from my hair. “I have to find Baldo,” I shout back.

He doesn’t listen—or maybe he can’t hear me over the noise. With a gentleness that belies the urgency of the situation, he wraps his arms around my shoulders and starts guiding me toward the nearest exit.

As we move, I look over my shoulder, searching the chaos for a sign of Baldo.

The night air hits me like a slap when we finally emerge outside. It’s hot, but I’m shivering, drenched.

The security guide sheds his wet jacket and wraps it around me. It doesn’t help, but I appreciate the gesture, tucking the wet fabric closer to me.

“Stay here.” He runs back inside.

“Where is Baldo?”

I stand there, my heart hammering in my temples. The question, a mixture of worry and frustration, remains unanswered.

Baldo is always in control. For a second, I don’t believe the chaos has swallowed him tonight.

What if he fell asleep upstairs and can’t get down? What if… I force myself to stop overthinking.

As the crowd spills into the night, I keep searching for him, and my eyes land on a group of employees huddling by the side, the bartender among them.

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