Page 10 of Tormented Oath

Her breath hitches in the smallest of tells, but the sound sets my blood on fire. She remembers. She has to remember what we were, what we could have been.

"I go where the work takes me."

A lie, but an artful one. I wonder how many men she's convinced with that cool voice and steady stare. How many marks has she taken down with those eyes and that body?

The thought makes the monster in me snarl.

Behind us, the club hums with muted activity—glasses clinking, music from the main floor bleeding through the walls, my people waiting for orders. But here, at this moment, there's only her. Only us.

Mine. She was always meant to be mine.

"The job's yours." I watch surprise flicker across her face. "If you want it."

"Just like that?"

I smile, slow and predatory. "Just like that."

We both know it's not that simple. Nothing between us ever has been.

She searches my face for the trap, and God help me, I want to tell her the truth: there's no escape this time, no running, no vanishing, no more years of endless searching.

I've found her, and I'll burn down heaven and earth before I let her slip away again.

But for now, I'll play her game. I’ll let her think this is just a job, just another club, just another chance encounter.

For now, I'll let her pretend she has a choice.

"Let me show you around." I motion to the wings of the stage, watching her hesitate. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

The challenge works. She moves toward me with a fluid grace that makes my mouth go dry.

The other dancers peer from the shadows, their curiosity warring with shock. They've never seen me like this—personally conducting a tour, focused so intently on one person.

"I never thought I'd find you here," she says, maintaining a careful distance between us. "Running the family business now?"

There's a bite in her words that makes me smile. "Disappointed?"

"Surprised." She glances sideways at me. "If anything, I thought you would be somewhere in Thailand, living in hostels."

Of course—she'd known me as the rebellious third son, the one who dreamed of freedom. The one who'd sworn he'd never be trapped by family obligations.

I notice how her eyes track every exit, every security camera. Always planning escape routes.

The predator in me wants to block them all, to trap her here, but I force myself to be patient.

"Life had other plans." I guide her down a private corridor, aware of how the air charges between us in the confined space. "My father and brothers' deaths required...adjustments to my priorities.” Which is why it took me so long to start looking for her.

She stiffens slightly. "I heard about that. I'm sorry."

The sympathy in her voice sounds genuine, and something in my chest tightens. Even now, even after everything, she can still reach past my defenses with a few soft words.

"The club is legitimate," I say, redirecting. "I take care of my people here. Good security, health insurance, strict rules about client behavior." I pause at the door to my office, turning to face her. "No one touches my dancers without consent."

Her eyes narrow. "And what do you get out of this...benevolence?"

"Loyalty." I step closer, backing her against the wall without touching her. "Trust." I move closer still, until I can see the pulse jumping in her throat. "Things more valuable than a quick profit."

She doesn't retreat, but her breathing quickens. "And where do I fit into this arrangement?"

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