Page 59 of The Vow

I was going to kill him if he was dying.

I stumbled through Damon’s bedroom door, both men turning in surprise. Pat, unable to stop the way he reached for his weapon, and Damon unable to stop the pain that blanched his face, though he did manage to hide it a second later.

“Robyn.” Heated eyes raked over me, filling with questions and concern.

“You went to see Belmont without me,” I charged.

“I did.” His jaw pulsed. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

I let out a furious, choked laugh. “We can talk about it right now. What happened? Why didn’t you take me? What did he do to you?”

My narrowed eyes roamed over him for the hundredth time, yet there was no sign of injury. No blood. No cuts. No bruising that I could see. Had I been mistaken about what I saw? Maybe Belmont got him drunk—too drunk to walk—and that was why Pat was helping him.

“I’ll let you two?—”

“No,” Damon clipped, his eyes darting to his bodyguard. “You stay. She’s leaving.”

“No, she isn’t,” I interrupted and took another step into the room to cement my position.

The low, threatening sound that rumbled through the room had definitely come from my husband. And the way he looked at me…

“You need a towel.” The words grated from his throat.

My eyes dipped. Water pooled around my bare feet. Maybe I should’ve taken a towel, but maybe he should’ve taken me with him.

“I don’t want a fucking towel, I want an explanation.” I crossed my arms, our glares clashing like expert swordsmen.

“Either you put a towel around you, Robber, or I’m going to have to relieve Pat of his eyeballs so he can’t see my naked wife.”

My head dropped, seeing my white tee now see through to my lace bra and my breasts underneath—my nipples pebbling harder at the deadly possession in his voice.Like he needs the encouragement,I mentally scolded.

It was bad enough I didn’t feel any chill when I stood under his gaze. I snapped my chin up, nostrils fuming. I was sorely tempted to strip out of my shirt just to provoke him. To see if he’d really follow through with his word or if this was just one more underhanded way.

But the thought died at conception. It died at the look in his eyes and the warning click of his blade opening by his side.

“Damon…” Pat chided.

“Fine.” I spun and whipped open the antique dresser by the door, an army of suits hanging inside. I went for the one right in front of me, pulling a medium gray jacket off the hanger and burying my arms in the sleeves and bundling myself in what I hoped wasveryexpensive Italian wool.

“Happy now?” I demanded, facing him again as the water started to darken the fabric.

Pat covered up his laugh with a quick cough, earning him Damon’s sharp stare.

“What happened?”

Another flash of frustration, but then it disappeared, his expression turning eerily calm.

“I met with Belmont. We…made our positions clear, and he invited us to GrowGood’s fundraiser in two weeks. All part of the plan. You can sleep soundly now,” he said, his tight voice clipping each statement like he tried to sever them from a thread he didn’t want me to pull.

If I didn’t feel it in my bones that something was wrong, the way he was trying to get rid of mefrom his bedroomhad every warning light and siren blaring. The Damon from the Christmas party would’ve served up any lie on that silver tongue of his to get me this close to his bed.

I held his gaze and then shifted my gaze to Pat. “I don’t think Damon needs you any more tonight, Pat. You can go.” I dismissed him coldly only because I knew he wanted to leave as much as I wanted him to.

“No, you cannot go,” Damon growled. “We aren’t finished.”

“Yes, you are. I can handle things from here,” I returned with a sweet smile, which only made Damon’s expression sour further.

“Damon—”

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