Page 11 of Dangerous Vows

“Charming is just well-dressed trouble,” she replies as her gaze meets mine. She’s not backing down, and it’s hot.

Damn. I like her already.

She’s intriguing.

Shifting her body, she turns toward me. I position myself between her legs.

The drinks are on the bar. I hand her the Cosmo and lift my bourbon, toasting her.

“To the sexiest woman in the room.”

She smiles, our glasses touch, and we sip. She’s completely unaware that she’s just become the most interesting person in the bar.

The low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the faint scent of expensive whiskey fade. None of it holds a candle to how she tilts her head as she waits for me to speak with a small, amused smile playing at the corner of her lips.

I’ve never been jealous of an inanimate object before, but damn. I wish her pert lips were on me and not the stemware. I lean in slightly, lowering my voice to draw her closer. “If I told you I’m cursed, would you believe me?”

Her lips curve, playful, interested. “Can’t say that I would. Should I be worried?”

“That depends,” I smirk, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. “Every woman who gets too close to the men in my family gets more than she bargained for. Some say it’s a curse.” I shrug.

She doesn’t miss a beat. Her fingers trail lazily along the rim of her glass before she meets my gaze head-on. “I’m up for a challenge. I’ve been through worse things. A curse…” Her voice falls off, and she shrugs as if it’s nothing.

Fucking hell. Now I’m the one in trouble.

I grin, tipping my glass toward her before taking a slow sip. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you want another drink?”

“I was just leaving,” she murmurs, and I all but come in my pants.

We finish our drinks, and she slides off the chair as if rehearsing her exit. I set my glass on the bar, dropped a hundred-dollar bill, and turned to her. “So was I.”

I text Joseph, my driver, who was on standby as a second driver, and by the time we make it out of the club, he’s waiting for us. I open the door and help her into my armored vehicle.

This night is going to be epic.

AMARA

THE DEVIL’S PENTHOUSE

As soon as we slide into his Hummer, the city blurs around us as neon lights streak across the windows like paint on a canvas. His gaze never leaves me as he leans back against the leather seat and spreads his legs in a way that exudes confidence.

The vehicle moves smoothly through the streets, but there’s an underlying edge to the driver’s maneuvers, like he’s used to dodging more than just traffic.

Trouble? Bullets?

The vehicle is second to none, featuring a leather interior, moonroof, and a bar that exudes luxury. It smells of cologne and crisp Benjamins and is spacious enough to house a small army.

Pulling my knees together, I lean toward him. “What, no sirens? No dramatic car chase?” I say with a touch of snark. “I thought a man like you would live more dangerously.”

He chuckles, low and rich. “I prefer my danger controlled.” He tilts his head, studying me. “Though, something tells me you’re the kind of woman who finds trouble all on her own.”

I feign innocence, widening my eyes. “Me? I’m just a simple girl looking for a night out and a good time.”

His gaze darkens, flicking to my lips. “You don’t impress as an easy woman. What’s on your mind?”

I feel the pull between us like gravity. “Now? I’m wondering where you’re taking me, like any single woman who leaves a bar with a stranger. I don’t even know your name.”

“Pietro. Yours?”

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