Page 22 of His Ruthless Vow

Kendra is temporary.

The thought ambushes me. She's a deal, a transaction. A momentary distraction in a life that doesn't allow for permanence.

I drain my whiskey, the burn matching the uncomfortable realization forming in my gut. Luca has found something I didn't know was possible in our world. Something I never thought to want.

The thought unsettles me, so I don't call Kendra that night.

Instead, I drive home alone, the city lights blurring past my windows as I press the accelerator harder than necessary. My territory stretches before me—streets and businesses that answer to me, that fear me—but tonight it feels hollow.

My house is silent when I arrive, except for the clicking of dog nails against hardwood. Paige comes bounding toward me first, all golden chaos and wagging tail, while Penny hangs back, watching with her mismatched eyes, waiting to see if I'm in a mood worth approaching. Smart girl.

"Hey," I murmur, dropping to one knee to let Paige crash into me. Penny inches forward, and I extend my hand to her. "It's fine. Come here."

I feed them, check my security system, and pour myself another drink. The routine is familiar—comforting in its predictability. This is my life. Controlled. Organized. Exactly as I've built it to be.

So why does it feel incomplete tonight?

I settle at my desk, opening my laptop to review the week's numbers. Business is good. Territory is secure, apart from Zenon's threat. I should be focused on that—on strategy and survival—not on brown eyes that see too much or full lips curved into a knowing smirk.

"This isn't real," I mutter to myself, draining my glass. "It can't be."

Kendra is a transaction. A way to settle a debt and entertain myself. Nothing more. The pull I feel toward her is pure biology—she's beautiful, she's smart, she challenges me. Any man would want her.

But I'm not any man. I don't have the luxury of wanting things I can't control.

I shut the laptop harder than necessary. Penny flinches at the sound, and I reach down to stroke her head in silent apology.

Sleep doesn't come easily. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of Luca's face when he looked at Skye. I've never seen that in him before—that sense of something beyond survival. Beyond power.

I tell myself it's weakness. A vulnerability I can't afford.

But by morning, the lie tastes sour.

I'm restless, checking my phone too often, angry at myself for the impulse. I take the dogs for a run, pushing faster than usual until my lungs burn and my thoughts quiet. It helps, but only temporarily.

By afternoon, I'm pacing my office, irritable with my crew over minor issues, snapping at Rome when he brings the weekly reports.

"Everything alright, boss?" he asks, brow furrowed.

I dismiss him with a wave. "Fine. Just handle it."

When he's gone, I stand at the window, looking out over the city—my city, or at least a piece of it. I've fought for every inch of this territory, sacrificed for it, bled for it. It should be enough.

I want her here. The realization hits with uncomfortable clarity. Not because of our arrangement, not as some twisted power play, but because something in the air feels lighter when she's around. Because she looks at me like I'm a puzzle she's determined to solve, not just a threat to fear.

I pull out my phone, staring at her contact information. One call, and she'd come. That was our deal. But using the deal feels wrong suddenly, like cheating at a game I didn't know I was playing.

I want her to want to be here.

The thought is so foreign, so dangerous, I almost laugh at myself. Since when do I care about what anyone wants? I take. I demand. I control. That's how I survived. That's how I built everything I have.

But as I look down at my phone, thumb hovering over her name, I realize something has shifted—something I'm not sure I can control.

13

KENDRA

Icheck my phone for the fifteenth time in twenty minutes, my jaw clenching at the absence of his name on my notifications. Nothing. Not that I want to hear from Enzo. Not that I’ve wondered why I haven’t in almost two days. Absolutely not. I toss the phone face-down on my desk with more force than necessary, drawing a raised eyebrow from my assistant as she walks in.

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