Page 81 of Forbidden Vows

A wall of muscle appears, blocking me from the door. I stare up into the dark eyes of a broad-shouldered, bearded man who looks like he either wants to kill me or gobble me up in one bite.

“Oh!” The suddenness of his appearance has my heart in my throat and me wondering if I’ve peed on myself. Think fast, Seraphina. “Thank goodness! I was trying to find the bathroom and got lost.”

“You think we have high-tech gear to allow entry to thefront door, but we leave the back door wide open for people to meander through?”

My heart thuds in my ears, and a cool sweat creeps along my hairline. My words are barely audible. “It’s a trap.”

“Exactly.” A slow, deadly smile comes to his lips. “One to catch the people most desperate to cross our borders.”

Stay confident. Play it off. I give a light laugh. “That’s a little OTT, don’t you think?”

His dark brow narrows. “OTT?”

“Over the top,” I explain.

“Don’t talk in texts when you speak to me,” he says. “Use your words.”

“Claiming that I desperately want to cross your borders is an exaggerated assessment. I’m not seeking Canadian citizenship; all I want to do is dance.”

“Yet you waltzed straight into my trap. Consider me for extermination services. I eliminate pests.”

Extermination? His words make an icy chill trip down my spine.

Feigning a confidence I don’t feel, I lock eyes with the massive gentleman.

“Please don’t refer to yours truly as vermin. Ugh.” I pat my curls. “Anyway, I’m supposed to meet Dame here tonight, but he must have forgotten to give me one of those pink bracelet things?—

“Pink is only for Beauties. Women married into the family.”

Deep swallow. “Okay, whatever color the peasants get, that’s what I need. Dame forgot to give me one.”

“Why didn’t you call him?”

“My phone died.”

“There are other phones.”

“Not ones with his number on them,” I quickly counter. “No one has numbers memorized these days. Surely not even an old-timer as yourself knows phone numbers.”

Massive arms are slowly folded over his enormous chest, biceps bulging above his meaty forearms.

I don’t think he likes being called an old-timer.

“I know every number I need.” He stares at me like I’m making this whole thing up. And he wants me to pay a dear price for it.

I swallow back my fear. “Look, I know this wasn’t the best way to go about it, but I know he’s waiting for me—even I know better than to keep a Bachman man waiting!” My little joke does nothing to soften him. “I saw the door open and just thought this was easier.”

His dark brow knits together. “Who did you say you’re meeting?”

“Dame. Dame Bachman.”

“You don’t look like one of Dame’s girls.” Those dark eyes scan me from the tips of my sparkly, purple-painted toes to the core of my being.

He’s got me shaken. I can’t show weakness.

I placed a trembling hand on my hip, adopting a warrior stance to counter his intimidating pose. “And what does that mean? Are you calling me fugly?”

“Did I say you were ugly?”

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