Page 7 of Ruthless Vows

She’s not a member of the restaurant’s staff. It’s obvious she’s a guest, considering her attire. By now, other people have joined, the manager that greeted me when I arrived earlier and a few other employees. The manager is already blurting out apologies but I ignore them in favor of staring at the woman in front of me.

“It doesn’t,” she says on a shrug. “I just don’t like bullies.”

“Did you just refer to me as a bully?” I ask slowly.

It’s been a long time since anyone has dared to speak to me like this.

“If the shoe fits, wear it with pride. He’s already apologizing. Accidents happen sometimes. There’s no need to berate him for an honest mistake. I know men like you get a kick out of power trips, but some empathy would do you good as well.”

“Men like me?” I scoff. “You have no idea who I am.”

“And I don’t plan to. Now that we’ve established that being an asshole in this situation is completely unnecessary, I’m going to walk away. I should probably get seated before my companion arrives.”

I watch as she walks away, curves swaying and looking entirely too enticing in the red dress she has on. She settles at a table a few seats away from mine.

Once she’s gone, I’m left with the restaurant’s staff, who continue their useless apologies. I should leave. This entireexperience has been nothing short of an insult. But my gaze moves to her table and I find myself retaking my seat.

The staff offers me a complimentary meal to make up for the inconvenience, and I accept it all distractedly. Her back is to me and the next few minutes are spent watching her and waiting. We’re both waiting, it seems.

Whoever her companion is doesn’t appear to be in a rush to join her. I watch as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her posture becoming more rigid as time passes. Twenty minutes later and it’s clear whoever she’s expecting isn’t going to be joining her.

I’m not sure what prompts me into standing up and approaching her table. I’ve always liked curious things. And this woman is the most curious person I’ve encountered in a long time.

CHAPTER 3

Lucia

My grip tightens around the cup of water placed in front of me. I squeeze and squeeze, imagining it’s the neck of the man that was meant to meet me tonight.

I understand that sometimes people can be rude, and divas generally don’t give a fuck about other people’s time. But I thought that at least he’d have some degree of professionalism. But no, that’s too much to ask for. I try and fail to get the anger bubbling inside of me to simmer.

Which is around the time an unwanted face approaches my table. Technically, “unwanted face” might be a bit of a stretch. There’s no way this man’s face has ever been considered unwanted before.

“May I sit?” he asks, his smooth, deep voice the picture of politeness.

Politeness that would have served him well earlier, when he was berating a poor waiter. I look up at him, ensuring every bit of annoyance I’m currently feeling shows in my expression.

“No,” I reply, short and sweet.

He ignores that, of course, sliding into the chair opposite mine without an invitation. My eyes narrow into a glare.

“I see we’re foregoing all form of decorum tonight,” I mutter under my breath.

“The only person that seems to be doing that is your date,” he retorts. “Who is it? I’m interested to know the bastard who stood up a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

I pause at that, momentarily thrown off. I wasn’t expecting the compliment. I take the time to observe him for a couple of moments. I’m not blind. I have eyes, eyes that can very clearly see that the man currently sitting in front of me might be one of the most good-looking men I’ve ever met in my life.

And I don’t give that compliment out lightly. Especially considering I work in the fashion industry with beautiful men who work as models. Men who spend their lives trying to hone the physique this man seems to have achieved effortlessly.

His piercing brown eyes are the kind that could take any woman’s breath away. If I had to guess his age, I’d say late thirties. His tousled black hair adds to his enigmatic aura, and every movement he makes exudes strength and confidence, even as he’s sitting down. It’s pretty clear that he’s a man used to being in control. The air around him crackles with an intensity that draws me in, a silent challenge in his gaze.

He seems dangerous, if the tattoos peeking out from under the sleeve of his navy suit are anything to go by. Unfortunately, I come to the realization that he is exactly my type. Which is so not what I need right now. Older men who look like they could break you with barely any effort are my weakness.

Thankfully, he’s a jerk so it should be easy to resist him.

“Can you please leave? Seriously, I’m not in the mood for company,” I say.

He arches an eyebrow. “So you came to this restaurant to eat alone?”

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