Page 21 of Dangerous Vows

I should have gotten her number, but it’s not in the cards. I don’t have time for a relationship, and passion like ours would destroy a lesser man.

I sit in my vehicle, straightening the cuffs of my black dress shirt before I step out and slide my arms into my black jacket.

“Thank you, Joseph.”

“No problem, Mr. Borrelli,” he says, nodding respectfully.

I stride toward the club entrance and let myself in through the side door. The bass pounds like a second heartbeat—deep, relentless, vibrating through the floor and crawling up my spine. It rattles glasses, pulses in my chest, and drowns out everything but the rhythm. The airis thick with sweat, and bodies move in time, each beat a command no one dares disobey.

I know it will remain like this throughout the night. I walk past the main floor of the club. Singles, couples, and cheaters are having a great time. I can’t miss the nefarious-looking men with gold and silver chains around their necks. But as long as the gangs don’t cause problems, there’s nothing I can do about it.

The gangs will find another hub as soon as our men make their presence known.

My club. My rules.

The air is thick with the scents of perfume, alcohol, and sexual chemistry. The dance floor is already packed, but all I see is her. From up here, I get a bird’s-eye view of what we must’ve looked like last night—bodies locked in a slow, indulgent grind. I can still smell her—vanilla and raspberries—etched into my skin like something that belongs to me. She’s not here, but every part of me still reaches for her. Wanting, needing, and wishing for one more taste.

I walk toward the corridor that leads to the office, telling myself to shake it off. It’s time to get to work.

And that’s when I seeher.

No. No fucking way.

I blink, thinking she’s an illusion based on my desire to see her again.

My steps falter, but I recover quickly.

She’s standing at the bar, flipping through the schedule on her tablet like she owns the damn place.

My cock springs to life. I’d love to bend her over the bar and take her.

I observe the situation because I’m supposed to be a professional. But when I notice the man at the bar who continues to eyefuck her—I’m livid.

I’m ready to spring into action to protect what’s mine. But I’m in charge—and killing patrons is bad for business. So, I grit my teeth and talk myself down, one breath at a time.

She must sense something is amiss—she turns, and her blue eyes lock onto mine. For the first time in years, I’m speechless.

The music drones on, and people fade away as time stands still. I never understood what the phrase ‘time standing still’ meant before, but now I’ve experienced it firsthand.

Her lips parted just slightly—a flicker of surprise breaking through before she reins it in. The smile fades. Her eyes sweep over me, and she forgets to pretend for a moment. I see it—the pull, the want.

It’s how her fingers tighten around the tablet, and she shifts her weight like she’s contemplating an escape. She’s trying to stay distant… but her body longs for me. Then it’s gone—vanishing as quickly as it came. She masks the desire behind a practiced, professional facade.

Smart girl. She knows I’m dangerous.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says flatly.

And there it is—the quick and biting greeting that screams defiance. I’m mesmerized by everything that makes her, her.

I arch a brow. “Didn’t take you for the type to believe in second chances.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “I—no. No, this is not happening.” Her delicate hand is raised, and her pointer finger is bobbing back and forth, objecting to my statement.

I smirk because watching her squirm is far too satisfying. “And yet, here we are.”

She squares her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hell if I know.

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