Page 21 of The Vow

A bitter wisp of a laugh rippled behind me.

Taking the glasses, I turned and held one to her, struck again by how fucking beautiful she was. Even when her eyes glittered red with rage.Especially when her eyes glittered with rage.

“I was there to take what belongs to me.” Instead of taking the drink, she folded her arms.

Shrugging, I set it back on the cart, there if she wanted it. “And what might that be?” I drawled and took a sip of the liquid smoke in my glass.

“Like I’m going to tell you. You’re his henchman. You’re part of the?—”

In an instant, I had her chin framed in my hand, my hold hard enough to make her mouth part and her skin blanch. I wasn’t hurting her—never—but I did want to make her afraid. I needed her to realize just how fucking dangerous this game was that she was playing.

She grabbed my wrists with both her hands, able to pull meaway if she wanted…but she didn’t.Maybe I wasn’t the only one drawn to the heat when we touched.

“I just risked everything I’ve worked toward to keep you safe,” I growled under my breath. “If I were his henchman, I would’ve hauled your beautiful, thieving ass in front of him and offered to punish you myself. And make no mistake, however you know Sandrine—whatever she feels about you—none of it would’ve stopped Sinclair from having your head on a platter and then punishing her for the danger.”

It would’ve been one of the few instances Magnus would not have catered to his wife’s pleas. Any shadow or whisper of betrayal awoke in him a paranoia that only blood would satisfy.

I blinked, her vibrant eyes suddenly turning dull, her full, furious mouth parting lifelessly, and the smooth, silk column of her throat decorated with a necklace of blood from where he’d cut it.

Hissing, I released her and stepped back. Unsure how or why the image affected me like a knife to my own gut.

“What’s your name—your real name?” I demanded and downed another gulp of whiskey.

“Robyn Keyes.”

I stared. “You gave him your real name? Are you—” I groaned and took a deep gulp of the whiskey.Fuck. Why would she use her real fucking name?

“What else would I give him?”

“Anything,” I hissed and slammed the glass on the counter, filling it with another slosh of dark oblivion. “Anything to keep him from finding you.”

“If you hadn’t interrupted me, I wouldn’t have to worry about him finding me because I’d have proof. And with proof, he’d be going where there are locks and walls and bars and guards and gates to keep him from finding me.” Her own frustration showed now. She snatched the second glass offthe cart and drank from it, wincing at the bitterness of the drink.

“Proof of what?”

She hesitated another beat, her trust issues screaming in the silence. “Proof that he stole from me.”

I knew everything about Magnus Sinclair—including the breadth of his criminal enterprises, and his little Ponzi investment scam was only the tip of the iceberg.

“How much did you give him to invest?”

“Why—”

“How much?” I ground out.

Her gaze was as sharp as shards of glass. “Almost a million dollars.”

Peanuts.At least compared to some of the bigger takes I’d observed.

I grabbed a small notepad and pen from inside my jacket and extended it to her. “Write down your bank account information, and I’ll have the money returned to it tomorrow.”

Something righteous seemed to snap in her, but she took the paper and scribbled onto it.Good.If she had her money, she’d leave this—him—alone.

She smiled when she handed the notepad back to me; I should’ve known I was fucked then.

FUCK YOUwas written in all caps on the paper.

“I said I’d get you your money back. Hell, for the inconvenience, I’ll have two million deposited into your account tomorrow. How’s that for a return on your investment?” I practically snarled. “All you have to do is walk away from this. From him.”

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