Page 12 of The Vow

My eyes drifted to Sinclair. He sat on the edge of the loveseat, sipping his tumbler of whiskey and beaming at his wife and daughter.Perfectly distracted.

I inched backward, glancing over my right shoulder toward the exit.

“I have two loves,” a voice rumbled next to my ear.

My breath vaulted into my lungs.Where had he come from?

Shivering, I tipped my head up to the man beside me, again impressed with his height before I was overtaken by his scent. Whiskey and smoked cigar.

“Excuse me?”Two loves. Had I misheard him?Or did Sandrine not realize that Damon was taken? Apparently by two women…

He grinned. “The name of the song, ‘J’ai Deux Amours,’translates to ‘I Have Two Loves.’”

The small rush of relief I felt was irrational. “Oh, I see,” I murmured, losing myself in the swell of Sandrine’s voice for a moment as I worked up the courage to excuse myself to the restroom.

“It was originally written by Josephine Baker, a famous American-born French performer in the 1930s, speaking to her love of both America and Paris,” Damon continued, thwarting my departure with the rich husk of his voice that lulled me almost as much as the melody. “I think that’s why Sandrine loves it so much; it speaks to her.”

A Frenchwoman living in America.

“It’s beautiful.” The song…her voice…they were captivating, though I didn’t understand a word.

“She was an incredible woman. And an even more incredible spy.”

Air pushed like a knife into my lungs. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Was this a trap? A trick?Did Sinclair know who I was and what I was here for?

“A…spy?” There was no hiding the husk in my voice. There was no hiding, period.

Damon’s hand came to rest on my elbow, the touch like a flurry of tiny lightning bolts to my skin, electrifying the adrenaline that already thundered through my veins.

I turned to him, grateful for the dim lighting that lent only a luminous haze to the moody performance, otherwise, Damon would’ve seen the way my cheeks turned as red as my hair.

“Josephine Baker was a spy for the French Resistance during World War II.” His eyes roamed my face, their silver rims as delicate as the edge of a blade.

A garbled sound emerged from my lips, and I quickly turned it into a kind of strangled acknowledgment. “Really? That’s so fascinating.”

I didn’t like the way he looked at me—like he knew I wasn’t who I said I was.Like he knew who I was.

“And what about you, Damon? Do you have two loves?” I looked up at him from underneath my lashes, hoping he woulddo what every other man would in this scenario—runat the first hint of love and commitment.

But he didn’t because he wasn’t like the others. Had I only listened to Sandrine from the start, I never would’ve been caught in his snare…

“No.” He took my wrist, and my breath caught as he lifted my hand to his lips, murmuring against my knuckles, “But I’m starting to think I might have one.”

The press of his kiss was like twenty thousand volts to my senses. Sudden. Life-changing.Life-threatening.

I yanked my hand back.What was I doing?I needed to focus. I only had this small window of time, and I might never get this chance again.

“If you’ll excuse me. I need to use the restroom,” I murmured, distancing myself from him until there was enough space to turn and flee.

When I reached Sinclair’s office, I could hardly hear anything over the pounding of my heart.

I tested the knob. It was unlocked. I was prepared in case I had to pick the lock—a skill I’d taught myself over the last few months, figuring I’d need it at some point to achieve my goal.

The door seemed to let out an exhale when it opened. Or maybe it was mine.

I slipped inside, my dress sinking me into the shadows of the room. I drew my phone from my purse, turning on the flashlight and swiping it through the space to get a sense of the layout and then letting it linger on the massive desk at the far end.That had to be where he would keep this kind of information. Documentation of the money he stole from people.

I hurried over, opening and closing drawers as quickly and as quietly as I could, barely contained cries of frustration eking out every time I came up empty-handed.Maybe it wasn’t here. Maybe it was at his office.

---