Page 17 of Stolen Vows

I take the stairs two at a time, climbing all three stories until I reach the top floor.

One of the best things about these three-story maisonettes is the footprint—spacious, open floor plans with ten-to-twelve-foot ceilings and entire walls of windows.

The third floor has four rooms: my office, the primary bedroom with its en-suite bathroom, and an extra bedroom with a guest bed.

It’s a ridiculous notion, considering my entire family lives in Avalon Falls, and the shared apartment next door sits empty half the time if anyone actually needed a place to crash. Plus, there’s always Beau’s place.

But when I hired an interior designer to handle the final details of the renovations, she couldn’t quite grasp my complete lack of need for a guest bedroom. So I let her have that one.

Everything else? I got exactly the way I wanted.

I head straight for my office, shedding my jacket as I step inside. The glow from my monitors pulses against the walls, casting faint shadows over my meticulously organized desk.

Three extra-large screens, each displaying something different. A live security feed. A rotating set of encrypted files. A task list I should get through—sorted by priority, waiting for my attention.

All that will have to wait.

I settle into my chair, fingers tapping absently against the edge of my desk. “Alright. Where to start.”

The logical choice is the local newspaper’s obituaries. I pull up the Avalon Falls Gazette, scanning the section for any recent deaths in town.

Nothing really stands out. The only women listed were too old to be her aunt—well into their seventies or eighties. Not the right fit.

“Okay.” I drag a hand over my jaw, trying to recall everything she said, hunting for a clue.

If I wasn’t so blindsided by her, I would’ve paid more attention. I’m sure of it. But one look at her, one hit of her scent, and I was a goner.

Even now, I swear I can still smell her—sugared lemons and soft cream. It makes my fucking mouth water.

I shake my head, a physical attempt to get my brain in the game. I crack my neck, shifting my approach, then reach for my phone, tapping open my playlist.

A low hum of bass thrums through the room, filling the silence. Instrumental—just enough to drown out the quiet without distracting me.

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t that recent. Maybe her aunt passed away weeks or even months ago, and she’s just here for . . . I don’t know what.”

My head nods absently as my fingers fly across the keyboard, already extending the search parameters.

“Talking to yourself again, bro?” Beau’s amused voice cuts through the music, startling me.

My fingers slam into too many keys at once, an annoyed huff slipping from my throat.

“What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?” I grumble, my heart slamming inside my ribs.

“I called your name like three times.” Beau chuckles, his voice closer now.

“Didn’t hear you.” I glance over my shoulder, unsurprised to find him standing right next to me.

“Yeah, no shit,” he snorts. “Too busy stalking the obits now, bro? Didn’t think you were that hard up for a date.”

My brows pull together. “I don’t even know what the hell that means.”

Beau laughs, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he leans toward my monitors. “I don’t know either. Sometimes you think too hard, yeah?”

His gaze flicks across the screen. “Seriously though, what’s got you combing through obituaries in . . . Avalon Falls?” He looks at me. “You got something local happening?”

A beat of silence stretches between us. I feel it then—the weight of something proprietary settling inside my chest. The quiet urge to keep this to myself.

To keepherto myself.

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