Page 7 of Vows in Sin
My world shrinks in an instant. A cool sweat creeps along my hairline. My words are barely audible. “The whole thing with the door being open, you on your phone?—”
“Pretending to be on my phone,” he corrects. “You think I have time for games?”
What are my options?
Try to run, but it’s a narrow doorway, and I’m not going to get by him. Turn around and trap myself in the storeroom. I can only stay confident. Play it off. Try to get out of this.
“You waltzed right into our trap. We eliminate pests.”
Eliminate?
His words make an icy chill trip down my spine.
Feigning a confidence I don’t feel, I lock eyes with Sideburns. “UGH. So rude. Please don’t refer to yours truly as vermin. Don’t you know an Armani dress when you see one?”
Bored, he gazes at my dress. “Don’t care.”
I pat my curls, a picture of angelic innocence. “Anyway, I’m supposed to meet someone here tonight, but he must have forgotten to give me one of those pink bracelet things?—
“Pink is only for Beauties. Women married into the family,” he clarifies with a smirk.
Deep swallow. Think fast.
“Okay, you’ve got me.” I stroke my shimmery dress. “This Armani is from the early 2000s, not quite vintage, but affordable. So whatever color bracelets the peasants get, that’s what I need. Dame forgot to give me one.”
My fib is met with a knitted brow. “You know Dame?”
“Yes, I do.” First truth I’ve told this man tonight. The dress is actually third-hand Armani Exchange, not the genuine article. Cost me $12.
“Why didn’t you meet Dame out front like the rest of his fan club?” he asks.
Fan club. Ouch. That stings.
I jut my chin. “I was supposed to call him when I got here, but my phone died.”
“There are other phones.”
“No one has phone numbers memorized these days. Surely someone who spends their work time playing games on their phone gets that.”
“I told you we don’t play games.” He strokes his sideburns as one brow dips below the brim of his hat. “I’m getting shady vibes off you.”
“I’m insulted.” I shimmy, making the sparkles on my dress dance. “I think I’m giving off disco ball vibes tonight.”
He slips his phone out of his pocket. “I’m getting Reign.”
“Reign?”
“Reign,” he confirms. His eyes lock with mine. “He’ll know what to do with you.”
“Do with me?” I echo back like a parrot.
Before I have the good sense to run, a man materializes out of nowhere, standing behind Sideburns. He’s essentially a wallof muscle. Massive arms slowly fold over his enormous chest, biceps bulging. A deep, gruff voice rumbles through the tension. “We have a problem?”
Sideburns rats me out. “Fell for our sneak in the back door number. Thought I’d leave her to you.”
Reign nods. “Go on then.”
Sideburns offers me a parting glance before taking off down the hall.
