Page 34 of Vow of Vengeance

Disrespected me.

Stole my hope.

Stole my money.

I’ve taken her daughter.

I’ve got my fiancée.

I’ve gotten my revenge.

I consider us even.

Ophelia is a pawn—a means to an end. A wife to make me captain. Nothing more. I shove thoughts of her down till it’s all business. Forget her supple body, her intoxicating smell, the lingering sweetness of her taste. Then there are the things that keep me up at night, like her wit, strength, and that image of her standing by that damn trash can.

Cleaning supplies, garbage, and menial daily tasks are somehow at complete odds with her breathtaking perfection.

Hold it all down until all thoughts of her are business.

Stay focused on the end goal.

Liam finds us in the library. I innocently twirl Emilia as we dance to her favorite Miles Davis song. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

A slow smile comes over his face, making his onyx eyes sparkle as he says, “Don’t make me jealous, young man. I’d have to kill you.”

Dropping Emilia’s hand, I step back. “You’d have to kill the lot of us bachelors. Your wife is the envy of the brotherhood.”

He steps in, taking her into his arms. He gives her body an elegant twirl, dipping her into a back bend. He lowers his mouth to hers, giving her a deep kiss meant for the bedroom.

I look away.

She giggles as he rights her. Playfully, she pushes him away, her cheeks a rosy pink. “Stop it, you two! You certainly know how to make a lady blush.”

“How can you not be admired when you’re as beautiful as the day we met,” Liam says, drawing her in again.

Emilia winds her arms around his neck, staring into his eyes. “And what a meeting that was.”

The two of them start kissing. Again. I move toward the doorway, hovering between the hall and the library. I’m wondering if I should excuse myself.

Emilia says, “Let me make you both some fresh coffee.” Patting her already perfect hair, she excuses herself, brushing past me and leaving the scent of lavender floating in the air.

“None for me, thanks,” I say.

“Really?” Her light brows shoot up. “Are you sure? I can make tea if you’d rather.” The expression on her face tells me I’ve said the wrong thing. I’ve forgotten my manners. Again.

Liam steps in to save me. “We’ll be fine, baby. After our meeting, you and I can have a French press by the pool.”

“Alright then. If you’re sure…” She gives me a final look of disapproval before hurrying deeper into the house.

Assessing me, Liam smooths a hand over his beard.

I didn’t realize it was a cardinal sin to turn down coffee. With my current state, a heady caffeine buzz is the last thing I need.

“Do I need to send flowers tomorrow?” I ask.

“No.” What he demands next is far worse than writing an apology note to go with the bouquet. “But when I tell Emilia about your new fiancée, she will immediately invite you both to dinner. And you will have to accept.”

“Of course. Of course I will,” I lie.

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