Page 44 of Dangerous Vows

We eat silently, and I’m amused at how she keeps herself busy wolfing down the food. It looks like I’ve discovered how to silence her sassy mouth. When it’s not wrapped around my cock, I feed her.

It’s refreshing to be with a woman with a strong work ethic who appreciates fine dining and excellent wine.

I eat, but instead of looking at my plate, I marvel at the sight of her across from me, eating like a normal twenty-five-year-old and not like someone who grew up in a criminal family.

What aren’t you telling me, Amara?

She spends most nights with me, and when she’s not with me, I feel like I’m missing an appendage. I long to see her, and I text her about stupid shit as an excuse to make sure she’s real. I find myself waiting impatiently for each response. Is it to make sure she’s real, or am I testing her to reassure myself that she’s into me? I don’t know, but I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give.

She puts her fork down and wipes her mouth with a paper napkin.

“That was incredible.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s from La Cucina del Padrino. Godfather’s Kitchen is what it means in English. It’s our family restaurant.”

“Well, the chef is amazing. I give it five stars,” she says, giving me a heartfelt smile. Her smile is everything and is more precious than the Hope Diamond.

“I have to get back to it,” she says as she stands and quietly leaves.

My heart sinks because the room is an empty shell without her.

I clean off the desk and then return to the club to check my men’s stations to ensure no security issues.

When I’m satisfied that the only trouble is a drunk man who wants more drinks from a bartender who has cut him off, I walk to the VIP area, as we’re hosting a party of Chinese businessmen, and that’s when I happen upon Amara.

The look on her face is not happy, and the man has her pushed so that her back her gorgeous ass is pressed against the wall. She tries to leave, but he reaches for her and grabs her arm.

He touched her arm!

How dare he? My anger boils over.

She’s mine, and he’s not allowed to touch her.

I’m pissed. What’s worse is that he has her cornered. I quickly move toward her to intervene, but she looks over his shoulder at me, and this gives away my presence. The man holding her quickly glances over his shoulder, and his eyes lock on mine.

Miloš Petrovic.

What the fuck is he doing in my club?

He has some nerve coming here. But before I can get to him, he disappears into the crowd. “Find Petrovic now. He’s in the club,” I say, hoping the tiny mic on my lapel transmits.

“We’re on it,” I hear security speaking through my earpiece. They aren’t a normal security detail—they are my men.

I rush to Amara.

“What did he say?” I lean into her, my eyes blazing.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you,” I shout as my fist flies into the wall near her head, causing her to flinch.

“It’s nothing.”

“That man is not nothing.”

“Who is he?” she asks, but her eyes are hooded, and I can’t read her like usual.

She’s hiding something.

---