Page 47 of By His Vow

My heart sinks as I take in the line of women waiting to do their business.

My eyes shoot in the direction of the stairs that lead to the VIP area.

We could be up there where I’m sure there are clean, empty bathrooms for us to enjoy. All I’d have to do is give my name and they’d unhook the barrier and wish us a good night.

But I don’t want to be up there with the businessmen and minor celebrities sipping champagne and attempting to look demure while doing it.

I don’t want to be demure. I want to be wild and sweaty. I want to feel my heart racing, stray hands gliding over my body, and my dress sticking to my skin.

Tonight, I don’t want to be Tatum Warner with the weight of the world and an imminent sham of a marriage pressing down on me.

I want to be free, and crazy, and careless.

“Are you okay?” Lori asks, her eyes bouncing between mine.

“Yeah, of course. Why?” I ask, trying to calm my racing heart. I might want to feel it pounding, but while I’m dancing and enjoying life, not while I’m freaking out about having my life stolen from me.

“You look a little manic. Did someone slip something in your drink?’

“What? No, don’t be silly. I’m just enjoying myself. Letting go.”

She narrows her eyes at me, able to hear the lie in my voice.

“Tate, I know what?—”

“Dance with me,” I demand, reaching for her hands and spinning her around in the line.

“Tate,” she warns.

“No, Lor. We’re not going there. Not tonight. I need this to be a future-free night. No thinking about tomorrow or?—”

“A certain man who rocks a suit like no other?” she adds.

“Exactly. None of that. Not so much as a fleeting thought about that asshole.”

She smirks.

“Stop it,” I hiss, knowing that her mind just ran straight to the gutter.

“Did you invite Matt out tonight?” I ask, shamelessly trying to distract her with her current online dating obsession.

She’s had a few over the years, but Matt has trumped them by far. He’s all she’s been able to talk about for days. Honestly, I’m amazed she’s allowed me to get a word in edgewise since her successful date last night.

I guess, as amazing as that was, I’ve kinda trumped it with my news.

Guilt knots my stomach. I don’t want to overshadow her incredible date with a great guy.

“Yeah, he’s out with his friends. We might meet up later,” she says, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“You really like this one, huh?”

She smiles, getting this faraway look in her eye.

“He’s… perfect,” she breathes, her smile widening.

Finally, she forgets about my shit and embarks on telling me every single detail about their night.

She’s right. He does sound perfect. It immediately raises alarm bells.

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