Page 72 of The Vow Thief
“That’s the unglamorous term.”
She tilted her head.“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I do,” I said.“There’s something satisfying about making disorder look composed.”
She smiled, eyes warm but sharp.“So you like control.”
“I like balance,” I said.“Control is just how most people describe it when they don’t have it.”
Her lips curved.“That’s a very careful answer.”
“Occupational hazard.”
She sat back, studying me in that quiet, observant way she had.“You’re a pleasant surprise, Eli. I didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I am.”
“Good,” I said.“I was beginning to think I’d misjudged my own charm.”
She lifted her glass.“Don’t worry. It’s intact.”
We lingered over dessert, the conversation winding through music, travel, and the strange comfort of living alone.
When the plates were cleared, I leaned forward slightly.“I have a question, Sarah.”
Her gaze met mine, curious.“You got very serious all of the sudden.”
“There’s a wedding in two Saturdays. I’d like you to come with me. As my date.”
Her expression softened into something unreadable.“That’s... unexpectedly forward.”
“Then I’ll blame the wine.”
She laughed, shaking her head.“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay, that’s not a no.”
When we walked out, I touched the small of her back, light and deliberate. She didn’t move away. The valet called her car, but neither of us looked up. The night had thinned to a hush, the kind that feels like permission.
“Goodnight, Eli,” she said, her voice quiet but sure.
“Not yet.”
She turned to face me, the city lights catching in her hair. For a second, neither of us breathed. I could taste her perfume in the air — clean, expensive, the kind that stays just long enough to haunt you.
I cupped her face, my thumb grazing her jaw. Her lips parted, not from surprise but invitation. The first brush was slow, exploratory, and then something inside both of us gave way. She pressed closer, her fingers at my collar, pulling me in. The kiss deepened, no hurry, no caution, just heat disguised as control.
When we finally broke apart, she exhaled a laugh that trembled.“That was… unexpected.”
“Not for me,” I said.
She smiled, the kind that promised trouble.“I’ll text you when I get home.”
The valet opened her door, and she slid inside without looking back. I stood there, pulse still unsteady, tasting her on my lips and knowing I wasn’t done. Not even close.
Hours later, her text arrived, lighting up the screen with her name. I had chosen her headshot as her contact photo, but I intended to change it to something more intimate.
Sarah: About the wedding. The answer is yes.
Eli:Excellent. Let me take you out again tomorrow night.
