Page 19 of Solemn Vow

My thumb hovers over the screen as I contemplate deleting the message. I should just block him. Nothing good will come out of being around him. He’s just another Michael. He may work for a different family, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s an arm on the same body.

Even if he wasn’t, he’s still a man.

A stupidly handsome man who can have any woman he wants.

He’ll get tired of me.

He’ll hurt me.

Can’t tomorrow. Don’t come over.

Three dots dance on the screen.

I turn off my phone and throw it in my bag.

Whatever he says won’t matter.

He’s a risk I can’t take.

The first sipof my caramel latte is heaven on my tongue. I close my eyes against the chilled wind and bask in the warmth of the hot coffee sliding down my throat.

I sigh with renewed contentment. It was totally worth waiting until this afternoon to indulge in a small lunch and this enormous latte. I cradle it against my chest and begin the short trek home.

I spent the morning doing laundry at the laundromat on the corner to avoid Viktor, just in case he decided to ignore my request to be left alone.

Cowardly, I know, but I didn’t have the energy when I rolled out of bed this morning to deal with the arrogant man.

Or maybe I didn’t trust myself if he were to show up at my door with his fierce stare and strong energy.

I kept my phone on so I could get his messages this morning if he did, just so I would know if he was there.

Not at all because I was hoping to see his message pop up on my phone.

That wasn’t it at all.

But no messages came. If he’d been by and saw I wasn’t there, he would have definitely tried to get a hold of me.

I head up the stairs to my apartment with the straps of my collapsible laundry bag over my left shoulder and my latte tightly gripped in my right hand.

After shuffling the drink around and getting my keys out, I push my door open and hop inside.

The heat is the first thing I notice.

I’d turned it down before I went out this morning. Heat is a luxury I can’t afford to waste when I’m not in the apartment. But even when I’m here, I don’t keep it this warm.

After putting the laundry bag down and making sure my latte is safe on the kitchen counter, I check the thermostat.

Seventy-two?

Absolutely not.

I hit the down arrow until it shrinks back to sixty-seven.

“It’s too cold outside to keep it so low.” An arm reaches over my shoulder and hits the button until it’s up to seventy. “That should be okay.”

I freeze.

Close my eyes.

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