Page 69 of Stolen Vows

“I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I think I should know about my future husband’s family.” I mean it as a joke, but the words come out softer than I intend, a little too breathless.

Graham stills. It’s barely a pause. A shift in his stance, a flicker in his gaze. His fingers flex against the stair railing, like he’s testing his grip. Like he felt that.

But then he exhales, slow and even, like he’s locking the reaction away. “Beau and I have always been close,” he says, voice measured. “I’m not as close with my younger sisters.”

That pause sticks in my head. That grip on the railing. A sliver of something unexpected flickers in my chest, but I push it down before it can take shape.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He nods. He nods once, firm, like he’s decided something, then pushes open the door.

It's an office. A very nice office, with dark wood shelves lining the walls, a large desk with multiple computer monitors, and a leather couch tucked under the window. But what catches my eye is the whiteboard taking up most of the far wall.

“What am I looking at?”

I step further into the room, my gaze locked on the whiteboard. It’s covered in Graham’s neat, precise handwriting, lines and arrows connecting various notes and diagrams. At first glance, it looks like a jumble of information, but as I study it more closely, a pattern emerges.

In the center of the board, written in large letters, is a name I recognize. North Cape School District. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. There are probably tons of school districts with the same name, kind of like how there are ten cities named Springfield in the US.

Various bullet points and sub-headers surround the name, detailing what appears to be an extensive cybersecurity project.

“Writing it down sometimes helps to find patterns. I can show you more later.”

I look over my shoulder at him. “Wouldn’t that be considered a security breach?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Spousal privilege.”

The words hang in the air, stretching wide until they curl around my shoulders, tethering us together.

I force a chuckle out, a cheap mask for the rattle of effortlessness that rolled off his tongue. “Ah, right. That.” I exhale and pivot toward the computers, straightening my shoulders. “I’m ready.”

Graham crosses the room to his desk in a few long strides, the leather chair creaking as he sits. Sinking into the seat with an effortless masculinity that is just so intrinsically him. He flicks his wrist and the screens flare to life, bathing his face in an electronic glow.

I watch transfixed as Graham’s hands fly over the keyboard, windows and files opening and closing faster than I can track. It’s mesmerizing in a way, the fluidity of his movements, the intensity of his focus. Like watching a conductor lead a symphony, or a painter create a masterpiece. There’s an artistry to it, a raw sort of power that’s intoxicating.

He stops. Fingers poised over the keyboard. And then, he extends his hand to me.

“Francesca.”

Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. I swallow hard, pulse skittering. “What are you doing?”

His gaze flicks to mine, steady and unreadable. “Giving you control.”

The words sink into my skin, burrow into something soft and vulnerable inside me. I go still. No one’s ever given me control before. Not really. I’ve fought for it, stolen scraps of it where I could. But this, this is intentional. It’s his choice. It’s mine.

I hesitate. My fingers tighten around Romeo’s leash. My gaze flicks down to him, like I need something solid to hold onto. My heartbeat pounds too loud, too fast. “Why?”

His jaw shifts. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t let me dodge the weight of the moment. His voice is quiet, certain. “Because you deserve it.”

Something cracks open inside me. A splintering kind of shift. And then, before I can talk myself out of it, I step forward.

24

FRANCESCA

Graham grabsmy hand and tugs me closer, scooting his chair back to give me room to see the monitors. I stumble slightly at the sudden movement, catching myself on the edge of his desk. The heat of his palm seeps into my skin, sending a shiver up my arm.

My eyes widen as I take in the name of the folder displayed on the center monitor.

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