Page 11 of Ruined Vows

“And I know it might shock you, but women don’t have to be the ‘little woman,’ relegated to the kitchen anymore.”

“Don’t believe that’s what I said,” I mutter, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman—whose tits I’ve occasionally been glancing at—wasn’t even born in the same millennia as me.Jesus.

“Please. Are you saying you wouldn’t think you owned your woman and had a say about everything she did with her body? Moira’s got the right idea. She does what she wants when she wants.”

“Moira’s a sex addict who’s fucked in the head.”

“How can you say that? I thought you were one of her partners. Or did you start to get possessive of her after you stuck your dick in her a few times?”

“More than a few times,” I mutter. “And no, I was never possessive of Moira. And I never considered her my woman. She’s just a willing and enthusiastic fuck, and a man’s got needs.”

“And women don’t?”

She obviously does. Twenty-two. Fuck.

“How old are you, anyway?”

Too old for you. Not that it matters. I’m her personal protection officer. Nothing’s gonna happen here. No way. No how.

“Thirty-six,” I answer as I pull into the Adolphus. “So, who’s this Drew guy?”

I jam the gearshift into park.

She glares at me and shoves her door open.

“My fiancé,” she says before climbing down and slamming the door behind her.

FOUR

KIRA

“You’ve got a fiancé?”he asks as he follows on my heels through the double doors of the Adolphus.

Thirty-sex. Thirty-sex. Thirty-sex. I swear I heard him say thirty-sex.

Shutup,stupid brain!

I stalk to the desk, reaching into my purse for my wallet. It’s almost midnight, and I’m exhausted.

“Yes,” I hiss, “and I’ve got a big engagement party on Friday that I’m supposed to be getting my beauty sleep for all week. Now, hush.”

“Damn, woman,” he says, annoyingly able to keep up with his stupid long legs as I all but sprint toward the concierge. “I’m definitely not as evolved as you. But I do have to say I like your style. This place is great.”

I glance around in irritation at all the gleaming wood paneling on the walls and the heavy carpet. Ugh. This place is awful. It’s meant for the old-school Texans to feel at home when they visit Dallas, so of course Isaak loves it.

I ignore him and address the night concierge. “Hi. I need a room. Two rooms.”

“Adjoining rooms,” Isaak says, coming up beside me and putting an arm around my shoulder. I shrug him off and glare at him, then roll my eyes but acquiesce.

“Adjoining rooms,” I amend to the concierge. “Or a suite.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the middle-aged man says, looking Isaak up and down before smiling genteelly back at me. “The Cowboys-Eagles game is this weekend, so we’ve been booked out for weeks.”

“But it’s only Monday!” I object.

Both the concierge and Isaak look at me like I’ve just said something foolish and ofcoursethe hotel is already booked out for Friday’s game.

“It’s a rival game, and there are some other conferences in town.” the concierge deigns to explain. “Everyone’s full. But you’re in luck; I just had a cancellation.”

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