Page 66 of Dangerous Vows

Amara might protest, but she appears five minutes later. She eats only half her food, when usually, she scarfs down everything.

This isn’t like her. She always eats like she hasn’t seen food in days, always stealing bites from my plate when she thinks I’m not looking. But today… she barely touches anything.

I sip my coffee, watching her. “Not hungry?”

She glances up, her expression carefully neutral. “I guess not.”

My stomach tightens. “That’s not like you.”

She shrugs, forcing a small smile. “I’m tired.”

Bullshit.

I lean back, arms crossing over my chest. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Her fingers tighten around her fork. “Pietro?—”

“Why are you shutting me out?”

She exhales sharply, rubbing her temple. “I’m not.”

I arch a brow. “Really? Because you’re pushing food around like a kid who was served canned vegetables. Is that what I am to you? A game? You seem to have more secrets than anyone I know, and that’s saying a lot!”

Her jaw tightens, but she still won’t look at me.

“It’s not like that,” she argues.

“Well, from where I’m sitting, I’ve been the one who is honest with you, and yet you still refuse to tell me what you’re running from. Why are you running away from your father?”

She’s quiet, a wall I haven’t figured out how to breach. I stand and pound my fist on the table. The thud fills the room.

“I’m tired of being in the dark. Something is going down between your father and Miloš, and I think you know what it’s about.”

She refuses to look at me, keeping her eyes focused on the food.

I slump back in my chair and run my hand through my hair. “Fine. But you need to eat a few bites.”

She caves and eats some of the steak and potatoes. The fact that she ate something is not a victory, and I’m not happy.

She ate, so I can’t protest too much. I’m determined to keep my eyes open for any other changes, even if I don’t understand why.

Perhaps I jumped into this relationship too soon. Maybe Matteo had her pegged. I led with lust when I should have vetted her more before sinking my cock in her a second time. It’s time I begin to look at us differently.

Maybe she’s been using me all along.

AMARA

CHOOSE ME OR KILL ME

When Pietro’s fist hit the desk, I flinched, and something in my gut twisted. For the first time, I see what doubt looks like—and he’s wearing it on his handsome face. I’ve committed every contour of that face to memory, so I know.

He has every right to question his judgment. After all, I’m the enemy’s daughter.

Perhaps my father is getting some perverted satisfaction knowing I’m in the enemy’s camp.

My father is a sadistic son of a bitch. I mean, it is a perfect revenge plot to let your enemy fall in love with your daughter and then rip her away.

Pietro sits across from me with distrust in his eyes. I don’t want him to look at me that way, like I failed him.

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