Page 36 of Reckless Vow

“So you’re staying longer.” He smirks.

Fucker.

I glare.

He shakes his head, chuckling. “There is someone I’d like to be an official spokesperson for this club. Make it happen and you got yourself a deal.”

Business-wise, I’d be in a hurry to lock down a building like this one, but then I’m stuck here for a year, so I don’t need to rush.

But what the fuck is his angle here? “A spokesperson? Is this your way of getting into someone’s pants? A bit desperate, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, indulge me.”

“Saar van den Linden. She’s practically related to you.”

“The model?” I frown.

It only occurs to me now the woman shares the last name with my brother-in-law. In Europe she goes by Saar only, and her face is plastered on billboards everywhere.

Corm nods. But his face is unreadable, and I’m not sure if he wants to punish the woman or reward her with this collaboration.

I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Okay, get her on board.”

“I was hoping since you have family connections to the van den Lindens—”

“I’m not in a match-making business,” I growl, but I want this location locked, so I offer him my hand. “I can see if she is available and interested, but that’s as much as I’m willing to do.”

“Well, then, you got yourself a deal.”

This deal is connecting me to New York in many ways, and with my newly married status, I’m just not sure that’s a good thing.

Chapter12

Brook

“You must admit that his refusal was kind of gallant,” Celeste says dreamily.

“I can’t believe you still believe in romance.” Saar laughs and stuffs her mouth with a handful of popcorn.

“I can’t believe someone scarred you so badly that you don’t. Who was that club owner, anyway?”

I felt so shitty, and not only due to my hangover, that I invited my friends over to help me sort through the bitter aftertaste of Baldo’s rejection.

“Just someone I used to know, but it turns out he isn’t worth the trouble.”

“No second chance for you?” I tease with sarcasm.

“Oh, because it’s going so well for you. You’re a glowing endorsement for second chances.”

“And fake marriages.” I sigh.

“Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to be a bitch.” She sends me an air kiss from her seat.

We are lounging on the back patio, with iced teas and snacks on the table. The weather is gracing us with lovely temperatures, so we’re taking advantage of it.

“Yes, you did.” I pout.

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