Page 112 of Reckless Vow

She looks scared, still glancing around as if she’s expecting something else to happen, or someone to arrive—

“Tokyo.” The voice is a whisper of relief behind me, and I whip around.

“I couldn’t find you.” I wrap my arms around his waist. “I couldn’t find you,” I repeat.

“I’m here. Are you okay?” He pulls back, inspecting me.

I nod. God, I’m so happy to see him. “The bartender. She had a lighter she’s been playing with all night.”

He frowns and then looks above my shoulder, assessing the situation. The police have arrived and people are dispersing, but I’m sure there is a lot of work for Baldo.

“I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do. Let me know if I can help.”

He smiles at me, but then narrows his eyes. He removes his jacket and tugs at the one over my shoulders. “Don’t wear another man’s jacket.”

He wraps his dry, thousand-dollar suit jacket around me. It swallows me in the warmth and scent of the man, and instead of rolling my eyes at his caveman display, I smile at him.

“Relax, it’s your ring I’m wearing.”

* * *

The door of Baldo’s office clicks and I scramble to sit up. I fell asleep on his leather sofa.

He brought me here, got me dry clothes, and put a bodyguard at the door despite my protest before he left to deal with the police and the early investigation.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Baldo looks at me, his gaze cold. “We need to review the security footage. Let me take you upstairs.”

“I’d rather stay here. I won’t disturb you.”

“Let her stay.” Chloe pushes in behind Baldo.

He studies me with hooded eyes, a line marring his forehead. His eyes look darker with circles of fatigue under them.

The way he’s looking at me squeezes at my stomach, worry souring it. He’s retreating before I even got him to open up.

He shakes his head ever so slightly and sits behind his desk. Chloe stands beside him.

I guess her plans to leave were postponed yet again.

I want to join them, but somehow I feel I have no right. So I sit there with an uneasy feeling.

Baldo’s jaw ticks as he drums his fingers on the desk. Other than that, he’s in complete control.

Dressed to perfection—he must have changed—his hair is perfectly mussed, his features tired but composed.

I can’t claim I know the man anymore, but I’d bet my yearly royalties the composure is just a mask.

After a few clicks on the keyboard, they both lean closer to the monitor and Chloe swears.

Then they turn to me, and I swallow. What the actual fuck? There isn’t accusation in their eyes but there are questions.

“How do you know Miguel Oliviera?” Baldo asks.

“Who?”

“The man you came in with a couple nights ago and Baldo had thrown out?” Chloe asks.

“I don’t know him. I was having a drink at a bar, and he came over to talk to me.”

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