Page 134 of Stolen Vows

I glance at my watch. It’s way too early for her to be home.

My pulse spikes dangerously, because this isn’t right. She was just at the bookstore.

I do a quick sweep of the area, making sure it’s all shut down. Then I take the stairs two at a time, until I find my frantic wife in the middle of the kitchen.

“Francesca.” My voice is sharp, but I can’t smooth it out. Not now.

“Graham.” She faces me, her bag strap is clutched too tight in her fist, her expression stretched with tension.

Romeo lets out a low whine, circling around her.

“What happened?”

“I . . . I have to go get—” she cuts herself off as she climbs the stairs to the third floor. She’s moving fast, too fast, heading straight for her bedroom like she’s on a mission.

I follow her, unease digging its claws into my ribs. My systems are probably compromised, I just went dark, someone hacked my wife’s devices, and now she’s acting like the house is on fire. She yanks open a drawer, grabs a handful of clothes, and stuffs them into her bag. She’s packing?

“Francesca.” My voice tightens, alarm threading through it now. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t look at me. “I have to go.”

I take a single step forward. I feel like I’m about to snap. “Go where?”

She finally looks at me. Her hazel eyes are raw, burning. “Winthrop Harbor. Florence needs me.” She glances away. “She’s in trouble.”

The words hit like a lead weight in my chest. “What’s going on that you have to leave now?”

“She’s in trouble.” She zips up her bag, like that’s the end of the conversation.

It fucking isn’t.

I shove a hand through my hair, every inch of me fraying at the edges. “Francesca, I can’t—I can’t leave yet.” My voice is rough, scraping against something raw inside me. “I just shut everything down. I need to reinforce security, fix the breach. I didn’t even get to tell you what I discovered, what happened. Can you just wait a day?”

“No,” she says instantly. Sharp. Absolute.

I stare at her, pulse pounding. “Francesca.”

“She doesn’t have twenty-four hours, Graham.” She shakes her head, and I see the way her throat moves when she swallows, see the tight grip she has on her bag like she’s trying to ground herself. “I don’t know what will happen to her if I wait.”

I recognize fear when I see it. I know exactly how it feels like a noose around your throat, tightening with every breath. But she’s not hearing me.

“This isn’t about your sister.” My voice is rough, barely controlled. Panicked, but I don’t show it. “It’s about you. You could be walking into a trap. Remember what happened when she showed up here a few weeks ago?”

Her jaw tightens. “She’s my sister, Graham.”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh, dragging both hands through my hair. “Yeah? Well, you’re my fucking wife.”

My words land hard. But Francesca doesn’t shrink back. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, fire burning in her eyes.

“You think I don’t know that?” she snaps. “You think I don’t know what this means for me? For us? I know exactly what I’m doing, Graham.”

I fucking doubt that.

I step closer, my voice dropping. “Then why the hell won’t you wait a day so I can go with you?”

“I’m not asking for your permission.” Her words crack like a whip, her fists clenched tight. “I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be told what to do all the time. I don’t need you to save me, Graham! I just need you to love me!”

“Good, because I do!” I half-shout.

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