Page 11 of The Vow

“And you met Sandrine at yoga, she tells me.” Sinclair’s dead stare was a different beast altogether. Pointed and inherently suspicious.

“Yes, it’s a great class.”

He made a low noise, sipped his whiskey, and pressed, “When did you start going?”

My heart tripped against my ribs. “I?—”

“Magnus, do you mind, old sport?” If there was one thing that could make this Damon more gorgeous, it would be this. His voice. It was warm and silken. It dipped deep for a moment when he’d addressed Magnus, then leveled into a strong tenor before settling into light familiarity. Like the whiskey in his glass, it could be both powerful yet smooth, strong yet palatable.

It could be everything. Anything. At the time, it was an accelerant to my attraction, and invariably my downfall.

“Yes, chère, we’ll get you fresh drinks and let you two get acquainted.” Sandrine took Damon’s empty glass and led Sinclair away.

Biting my lip, my eyes followed the two of them—followed Sinclair—until he and his interrogation were a safe distance away to breathe again. To think.Sort of.I looked back to the man I’d been left with. No matter how attractive he was, it didn’t disguise his relationship with Sinclair and how equally dangerous to me he could be. Strangely, when I turned, I caught this man—Damon—watching Sinclair with the same calculated attention I had for a split second before he wiped all trace of it from his face, his beautiful mask back in place.

“Damon Remington, at your service.” He took my hand and lifted it to his mouth.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I shivered, my nipples pebbling against my dress. The depth of the neckline meant I couldn’t wear a bra. I didn’t think it would be a problem…I never expected to meet him.

“The pleasure is all mine.” The touch of his lips to the back of my hand released an army of goose bumps over my skin, andI went from clammy to combustible in the span of a nanosecond.

I’d prepared for a lot of things coming here but not this. Not these emotions. Not feelings that I would welcome or want more of. And certainly not for a man associated with my enemy.

Since I was sixteen, my life had unfolded from grief into shock into fury into vengeance. Those didn’t leave room for things like attraction and desire to work their way in. I’d hardly processed losing the two most important people to me before I’d learned Sinclair had stolen their legacy. How could I think about men—about dating? From that moment, I’d been trapped by Sinclair as surely as his charismatic wife.

But it was hard to stay trapped or even focus on the cage when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome crashed through it like a wrecking ball. What else could I focus on but the fog of attraction and the wreck of desire?

Like Rumpelstiltskin turned straw into gold, Damon spun the next half-hour of conversation into a span that felt like minutes. By the time Sandrine announced dinner was ready to be served, I couldn’t even recall what we’d spoken about, only the way his eyes had flickered as they stared into mine. The way my pulse jumped every time my arm or my hand brushed his. The way his head would dip when he spoke, his lips finding a spot close to my ear, and the way his warm voice reached like alcohol into my blood.

I went to my seat at the table, convinced solely of one thing: I’d never felt for any man the way I did for Damon Remington.

“Allow me.” His smile tipped easily over his face as he pulled out my chair.

Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on the devil I knew, I wouldn’t have been fooled by the one I’d just met.

Dinner passed in an array of courses and drinks the likes of which I’d never experienced.So this was how the other half lived,I thought on more than one occasion, usually when I was trying to discreetly determine which utensil to use for which course. But Damon saved me there, too.

When the salad came out, I stared blankly at the array of three forks to the left of my plate. Panicked, I looked across the table to see which he reached for, only to find him watching—watching my confusion take hold.

Sorry, Sandrine, I don’t think I’m going to cut it in Damon’s world,I thought, as if we were even a possibility.

But then, to my surprise, his hand hovered slowly over his place setting, a finger touching down on the very outside fork, tapping it, and then moving to the next.He was counting them for me.The second one, he set his finger on and then picked it up, making a show of twirling it in his fingers before sinking it into the lettuce on his plate.

I grabbed the second fork and did the same. Our eyes connected across the table, and I mouthed,thank you.He winked back.

There were certain things I’d come to regret as the years went on, most of which had to do with not seeing any of the signs in front of me for just how bad this fall of mine was going to be.

After the dinner courses were finished, we rose from the table to take a small break before dessert. Instantly, Sandrine ushered everyone into the neighboring room—a music room, I realized by the grand piano that took center stage in the middle of the space.

Sandrine called for her daughter, who eagerly took a seat on the bench, her eyes wide with excitement and admiration for her mother as she began to play and Sandrine began to sing.

Within moments, the small group of us was enrapt by the performance. The fluidity of Daria’s playing combined with Sandrine’s lush, evocative voice wove a kind of spell through the song that held everyone hostage.

A perfect time to slip away.My heart boomed in my chest.Was it too risky? This was my first time at their house.

But what if it was my only visit here?

I would only have one chance—minutes to slip into Sinclair’s office and look for anything that proved he’d taken my inheritance. I didn’t need a smoking gun, I just neededsomethingto give to the authorities.

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