Page 3 of Vengeful Vows

Since the bottom of my shoes are worn to within an inch of their life, I lose traction on the glossy marble tiles. I skid like a newborn foal, and the brutal collision of my knees on the rigid floor is enough to burst tears into my eyes.

I won’t cry. I didn’t when I was beaten for a handful of measly possessions, so I won’t now, but I’d be a liar if I said my fall wasn’t painful.

My knees are cut and oozing blood, but the man I interrupted shreds my ego to pieces worse than any fall could hack up my skin. “What have you done, you silly little girl? Foolish tricks like that don’t work on me. You’ll need more than a clumsy damsel-in-distress act to gain my attention.”

“I’m not s-silly,” I snap before I can stop myself. “I’m also not a ch-child.”

When the vicious voice returns, a cold wind floats over my skin, producing goose bumps. “Then why do you speak like one?”

“Because I-I… Because…” Realizing I don’t owe him an explanation—and that I will never speak without fear when alone with a man inanyroom, so how can I defend it?—I return to my feet, grimacing. “Go-good evening.”

I’m almost in the clear when the unnamed man barks out another order.

This one is more sincere than his earlier ones.

“Wait.”

My heart pounds in my ears when a shadow falls over the only exit. He was either hiding behind the bathroom door or not in the bathroom when I entered it.

Either way, his positioning terrifies me.

While swallowing hard, I hear him snap, “You’re bleeding.”

I briefly glance at my thighs before lowering my eyes to my knees. There’s enough blood to announce a fall but not enough to fuss over, so I brush off his concern with a gesture my grandmother would have been proud of.

“It-it’s nothing.”

I don’t even get in half a step this time before he thwarts my exit again. “I said wait. You can’t leave my presence like this. What will the other residents think if they see you leaving with bloody knees?”

Another bout of silence.

Another step.

Another near heart attack.

This heart stutter isn’t solely from fear. It’s from parts of the man’s face being unshadowed by the bathroom light flickering on behind me.

He’s younger than his voice suggests, though still at least a decade older than me. His dark hair is long enough for fingersto get lost in, and a few days of stubble covers a rigid jaw on a deliriously handsome face. His lips and nose are perfectly straight, as level as his brows.

The latter seems more in disgust, as his voice conveys his concern better than the deep groove between his prominent brows does.

This man cannot hide his dislike. His expression reveals his every thought without his lips needing to move. They clearly announce that he isn’t a fan of mine.

I can’t say I’m surprised.

When have rich, powerful men ever respected the help?

I was fired from my last position because I snuck a mint out of a serving dish in the entryway. It was out of date and ghastly sweet, but I thought it would be better to have minty, fresh breath while my boss was in residence than vomit-laced breath.

I was suffering through a severe case of food poisoning, but when I called my boss to announce I was sick, he told me I either arrive at work on time or don’t return to my position at all.

I dragged myself from my deathbed and worked through body aches and chills that made me so delusional I thought asking my mother for help was the right way to go.

I made it to the airport before my smarts kicked back in. Although scared at the idea of adjusting to a new workplace, I’d repeatedly choose that over placing Tillie in unnecessary danger. I’d done it numerous times in the past decade, so what was one more obstacle?

I’m pulled from my thoughts when a creak sounds through my ears. I learn the stranger’s concealment isn’t as sinister as I first thought when he moves closer.

He’s wearing a towel.

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