Page 9 of By His Vow

As the eldest son of Michael Callahan, there are certain expectations of me. Expectations that often feel like unforgiving lead weights pressing down on my shoulders.

From the day I was born, I was destined to become one of the most important, wealthy, and powerful men in Chicago.

An image of my future was painted for me from day one. The houses, the cars, the designer suits, and…the beautiful wife.

A woman from a family of good standing. Someone who would look good on my arm and portray the image my surname demands.

Sure, on paper, Tatum is the perfect candidate.

She’s beautiful—even when she’s doing her best to look like a tramp. She’s got a surname that holds almost as much weight as mine. She’s grown up in the same world as me. She understands what my life is like and the pressure I’m under.

There’s just one problem…

She drives me fucking crazy.

Defiance may as well be her middle name. Everything she’s ever been told to do, she takes great pride in doing the opposite—something her father didn’t take very kindly to.

While I’m strategic in my ways, she’s like a chaotic puppy with a squeaky toy in its mouth.

Sure, she’s settled a little now she’s an adult. And I can’t deny that she’s good at her job. A job that was never a part of Jonathan’s plans for her.

She was meant to go into finance instead of marketing. He may never have put her as high up the ranks as he immediately did Miles, due to her being a woman and Jonathan still living in the dark ages where gender is concerned, but that’s not the point.

He’d carved a path out for her, and she figuratively stuck her middle finger up at him and went in her own direction.

She still works for Warner Group. She’s still an asset. Just…not the asset Jonathan wanted her to be.

I’m pretty sure if I were to ask her, she’d openly tell me that Jonathan made her feel like nothing but a disappointment since the day she was born.

“What?” the woman in question snaps as I continue to stare at her and push to my feet.

Lifting my hand to my mouth, I wipe away the trickle of blood that was making its way down to my chin.

“It was hot watching you try to protect me. Maybe you will make a good wife, after all.”

Some weird growl noise rumbles deep in Miles's throat while Tatum’s face twists in anger.

“No, that’s enough,” she snaps, her arm shooting out to stop him from lunging toward me again. “You need to leave.”

It takes a few seconds for her words to register, but when they do, he rears back.

“I’m not leaving you,” he states firmly.

Tatum looks between us, and every time her eyes come to me, she seems to catalogue another bruise or cut caused by her hot-headed brother.

I love him like one of my own, but fuck, he’s worse than Kian, my younger brother, when it comes to his temper.

“Miles.” She sighs. “This,” she says, gesturing between me and her, “isn’t something you can fix. Apparently, Dad wanted?—”

“The fuck was he even thinking?” he mutters, scrubbing his hand down his face. His knuckles are busted open, giving me a hint of what my face must look like right now.

He looks up at me, his lips twitching into a smirk as he takes in the state of my face.

Fucker knows what he’s done.

I’m going to have to walk into the office looking like this.

“Listen to your sister, Miles. This is between us. Husband and wife shit.”

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