Page 113 of Stolen Vows

But that’s not the only way. It’s not even the most effective way.

Physical wounds heal. Bones knit back together, bruises fade, blood washes away. But there are other ways to destroy a man. To take everything he values, everything that gives him power, and grind it to dust. His reputation, his influence, his wealth. All the things men like Giovanni Baldini hold so dear.

That’s where the real damage is done. The kind of soul-deep destruction that leaves a man hollowed out and impotent. And that’s exactly what I plan to do to him.

Francesca’s soft laughter pulls me from the violent spiral of my thoughts. She’s watching the movie, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she dips her spoon into a pint of ice cream. Salted caramel with pieces of chocolate-covered potato chips.

I watch as she brings the spoon to her mouth, pink lips wrapping around the silver utensil. Her tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of caramel at the corner of her mouth at the same time her gaze slides to mine. Like she knew I’d be watching.

It makes me feel exposed but I don’t pull my attention from her. Instead, I reach for her, running my knuckles along the ridge of her shin, needing the contact. Needing the reminder that she’s real and here and not some fragile thing that’s going to slip through my fingers.

She makes a small sound in the back of her throat and dips her spoon back into her ice cream. “Rocky Road or mint chocolate chip?”

It’s such an abrupt shift from the storm inside my head that I blink at her, my brain short-circuiting for a second.

“What?”

She grins like she’s got some secret, but it’s softer than usual. “You heard me, husband. Choose wisely.”

I shake my head, mouth twitching. How she manages to pull me out of the darkness with nothing more than a flash of her smile or the lilt of her voice should be studied. “Not even a contest. Mint chocolate chip is trash.”

Her gasp is so dramatic, she nearly drops her spoon. “This might be grounds for divorce. Sorry, husband, I don’t make the rules.” Her teeth rake over her bottom lip like she’s smothering a grin.

I chuckle and drag my hand over my jaw. “I recant then.”

“Phew, good answer.” She huffs, but there’s a teasing spark in her eyes. The moment is light, easy, but I can feel it. The way she’s testing the waters. Like she’s waiting to see if I’ll keep playing, or if I’ll push back.

I lean in slightly, mirroring her energy. “Alright, what else?”

She hums in thought, tapping her spoon against her lips. “Hm. Okay. Books or movies?”

“Books.” It’s easy enough. Truthfully, I’ll take either of them. But my wife owns a bookstore, and I’m a fast learner.

She feigns shock, clutching her chest. “Wow. You mean all those nights you spent hacking into my Kindleweren’tjust for fun?”

I smirk. “Oh, they’re fun, sunshine.”

Her laugh is soft, her body tilting toward mine. I let my hand settle against her knee, absently tracing patterns against her skin. “Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin?”

She stares at me, her nose scrunching up a little. “Taylor Swift.”

I laugh, my hand encircling her ankle and dragging her toward me. “That’s not how you play the game.”

She giggles as I pull her closer, until she’s practically in my lap. Her laugh turns into a soft gasp when I skim my fingertips up the back of her calf. “It’s my game. Who says I can’t change the rules?” she murmurs, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief and something warmer. Something that makes my heart thud heavily against my ribs.

I lean in, my nose brushing hers, our breaths mingling. “Alright, Francesca Carter, I’ll allow it.”

She inhales quickly, all traces of her amusement gone. I pull back, concern heavy on my brow. “What’s wrong?”

She wets her lips. “Nothing. It’s just, that’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Francesca Carter.”

She shivers and pulls back, putting space between us. Her gaze goes distant, staring aimlessly over my shoulder. Then she exhales slowly and sets her ice cream down. “I was worth twenty percent.”

I go still, taking advantage of the opportunity to study her. Fresh-faced and serious, features composed and hands curled tightly in her lap.

“My parents signed away my life for a merger with Baldini Holdings. In exchange, they got twenty percent equity in one of the biggest private holding companies in the country.” She lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been caged inside her for too long. “It’s millions. Tens of millions even.”

---