Page 114 of Reckless Vow

He comes out, dressed in his robe. “I have the plane ready to take you back to the States.”

Chapter30

Baldo

Imarch to the kitchen, distracting myself with the coffee maker. I’m the asshole who can’t even look at her.

She could have gotten hurt in the fire last night. She did get hurt ten years ago. I have a security detail on standby to protect her, but she can’t stay with me.

The sheets rustle and her small feet pound across the room. “Take me to the States? What about you?”

I pause, almost snapping the stainless steel coffee pot in two. “I need to stay to take care of business. I’ll join you as soon as I can, so we can have dinner with Rupert.”

“I’m not going to the States.”

Of course, she would argue. Nothing with this woman is easy.

“You can’t stay here.” I pour the beans into the container of my state-of-the-art coffee maker.

“Look, I’m really sorry I brought Miguel here. Though if you hadn’t thrown him out…”

Fuck. Now I’ve made her feel guilty about Miguel fucking Oliviera. “Don’t worry about him. He will rot in jail.”

I don’t understand what happened the night I threw the douchebag out of my club. He was only talking to Brook when my restraint started slipping, and when he leaned toward her and whispered into her ear, I snapped.

I know she’s only mine temporarily, but fuck Miguel. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that. It took courage to mess with my business.

Brook remains silent for a moment. Or I think she does, but I’m too close to the roaring coffee grinder to be sure.

Yes, I’m still the asshole who hasn’t looked at her. Fucking coward.

As soon as the ruckus stops and the machine hums with the coffee preparation, Brook says, “You don’t decide where I go. You don’t just send me away because you don’t want me around.”

I whip around, and the sight in front of me startles me.

She stands on the other side of the counter. In my fucking shirt. Kill. Me. Now.

Her chest heaves, her hair is in disarray, her lips are swollen and her eyes are a bit puffy from sleep. I catalogue every detail, searing the moment into my memory.

The cocktail of emotions tugging at my heart is potent. I want to hold her forever. I need to have her. I want her to be mine. To protect her. Well, without failing at it like I have been.

All that mixes with all the opposite feelings. I don’t trust her. Perhaps it’s childish to still hold a grudge over the past, but she didn’t choose me back then.

Or any day after, when she could have reached out and explained why she didn’t show up. It took her almost ten years, and being forced into marriage with me.

Circumstances influenced her honesty, and if circumstances change, who knows if she would stick around.

Fuck.

“You need to leave,” I growl.

She flinches, but then straightens. “Where were you for the past two days?”

My eyebrow jerks up, but I contain any further reaction. Whiplash, anyone? Where did that fascinating mind of hers go?

The way she stands there, a woman on a mission, is so fucking hot. “I don’t think you want to know.”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

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