Page 25 of The Vow

I told myself it would be better this way—easier to fool Sinclair if we were actually sleeping together.

It turned out it was easier to fool myself, too.

Chapter Seven

Robyn

My fingers trailed along the soft array of fabrics of clothes I refused to wear. I’d physically choked on nothing but air when I opened the door to find the closet lined with enough clothes to sustain someone for…ever. Every single piece of clothing still bore the price tag like a scarlet seal of truth: no one had worn any of them before.

Welcome home.

Damon’s words rattled around my mind like spilled marbles. Did he really think I could be tempted to stay here with him? That his beautiful house and expensive clothes would make me forgive and forget how he’d betrayed me? How he’d disappeared for almost two decades, leaving me shackled in secret to a criminal husband, one I couldn’t find, let alone divorce? How I’d lived for over a decade listening to whispers about the Casanova criminal?

Meanwhile, I’d had the comfort of no one and nothing but the well of my revenge…and the fantasies of the husband I hated. Fantasies where I could forget how he hurt me and drown in the pleasure he’d once given.

Did he think he’d help me bring down Belmont and that I’d just magically fall back into his arms after what he’d done—how he’d done it—whom he’d done it with?

Hell no.

I dropped my hand and returned to the bedroom, closing the door behind me with a determined thud. I wasn’t sure what kind of defiance it was to walk around naked in my luxurious, self-inflicted prison cell, but I welcome the cool air on my skin like an invisible sword to my throat.

On the nightstand sat the engagement ring he’d given me back at my apartment, his secrets buried in the fake stone. It was obvious he thought the gesture symbolic—a promise of his loyalty to his word. That part was bullshit, but the ring was symbolic to me as a mockery of the farce that was our relationship. Nothing but secrets and lies encased in a pristine, glittering façade.

Next to the ring, my new phone waited, plugged into a charging dock. It had all my contacts already entered into it, so I could message my brothers—and I would, but I needed a night to get my bearings, and they probably did, too. After all, they’d watched me flee the garage with a criminal in my passenger seat only moments after learning that the criminal was my husband.

I pulled my hair out of my towel and wrapped it tight around my torso. Returning to the bathroom, I collected my shirt, leggings, and underwear off the floor, rolling everything into a ball.

There had to be a laundry room somewhere in this monstrous house…

I’d taken my time in the shower so hopefully Damon and his housekeeper were both scarce by now. I could start my laundry,find something to eat in the fridge, and then lock myself in my room.

It sounded childish, but I’d just agreed to stay in the home of the world’s most wanted criminal. Did that sound like a safe place to be? Was I supposed to feel safe because that man was also my husband? Not even close. I saw the look in his eyes. The jealous smoke. The possessive heat.There was no greater threat to me than the man who still believed I was his.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror on the back of the door. A frown unspooled from my lips, seeing how high the towel came on my thighs. But adjusting it lower meant exposing more of my chest…no. I wasn’t going to care.

Damon wouldn’t touch me unless I wanted him to, and that was the problem. He knew parts of me wanted his touch. Ached for it desperately. One look and he saw the gnawing void that gaped steadily wider inside me, growing more vacant ever since he left.Because he left.And I hated that he knew it. Hated how he could turn my own body into a weapon against me.

There was a time when he’d put everything I’d ever wanted right in front of me, and as I reached for it, he didn’t just pull it from my grasp, he shattered it into a million irreparable pieces. And now, I would do the same to him. I’d let him think there was a chance I’d forgive him—let him think all of this was enough penance for his betrayal. And then, just when he truly trusted me like I’d once trusted him, I’d turn him into the FBI as promised.

Looking down, I found myself rolling my wedding band through my fingers, the ring attached to a fine chain around my neck. With a huff, I shoved the gold loop underneath the edge of the towel. It would be safer to take it off, I knew, but I never took it off.

I might still wear his ring around my neck, but when thiswas all over, the only jewelry Damon Remington would ever wear in my presence again would be the cuffs around his wrists.

My bare feet padded upstairs in almost complete silence. My quick search of the lower level revealed no laundry room, so I presumed it was on the main floor.

It was still early, but it was already dark outside. The lights in the sprawling living space were off, highlighting the twinkling of stars and cityscape above the horizon. It was an exquisite view. Objectively speaking. But I was sure plenty of prisoners thought the same of their view from Alcatraz.

A faint glow illuminated from my right, a sliver of the kitchen island visible through the far doorframe. I took two steps, stopped, and looked over my shoulder.

The west wing…

There was a stretch of hallway to the left, lined with a collection of doors. All of them shut, but only the farthest one seemed sealed in shadow.Damon’s room.

Swallowing, I held my bundled clothes tighter. One of the other doors must be the laundry, but the sudden loud growl in my stomach suggested finding food first before I risked running into my unwanted husband.

I spun and headed quickly toward the light.

The sleek kitchen with its massive island, stainless appliances, and gas stove was as spotless and stocked as I’d expected. The fridge was stuffed to the brim with fresh vegetables, fruit, juices, and butcher-wrapped meats. My stomach threatened with another loud sound, warning that I should pick something quick and easy.

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