Page 71 of The Vow

Oh god.

I slowed my steps, my mind whirring like a spinning top losing its balance.

Sandrine must’ve found something—realized what Damon was really doing. Either that or she’d been in danger from Sinclair, and Damon had broken his protocol to get her out. To protect them both.

But then why didn’t he text me back?

Was it because he worried Sinclair would track his phone? Still, wouldn’t he have had time to get me some kind of message?

Gritting my teeth, I inched closer, discerning that they weren’t in the dining room but in the adjoining parlor where Daria’s piano was. The perimeter of the living room was marked by massive iconoclastic Greek columns. If I could hide behind the very last corner column, I’d be able to hear their conversation easily, and if I was careful, I could even turn and see them.

I drew deeper into the shadows of the living room and crouched, using the large pieces of furniture to my advantage. As I ducked along their cover to the final column, I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath until my back straightened along the cool marble.

“All done,” Rodgers’s nasally voice joined the conversation. “I can put everyone on this?—”

“No,” Sinclair snarled, the vicious sound making me turn at fractions of an inch.

I saw the back of Rodgers’s stocky figure first, and then in front of him, Sinclair, his body partially angled toward the roaring fire in the fireplace, a sheaf of paper pinched in his right hand.

“No one can know about this. Not yet,” Sinclair repeated and looked at Rodgers. I jerked back behind my cover but not before catching the rat-like contortion of his face. “Is Antoni athis apartment yet? If he’s going to take my wife, I’m going to kill his.”

Kill me?My mind tumbled backward over itself.Because Damon rescued Sandrine?

“He’s pulling up now.”

And if I had stayed here…hadn’t come to look for Damon…

What the hell had happened? My mind buzzed, unstoppable and self-destructive. If he’d done something to Sandrine…argued with her…even hit her…Sinclair would’ve been too paranoid and too controlling to leave her alone. Yet, if it wasn’t some kind of attack with that urgency, why hadn’t Damon texted me?Warned me?

More importantly,what did I do now?

Damon wasn’t responding, and Sinclair wanted me dead.

I closed my eyes, swearing that the pound of my pulse was loud enough for the men to hear. Somehow, all that wreckage was contained in the hollow of my chest.

“I knew it. I knew there was something…” Sinclair swore. “I knew that cunt told him Shazad wanted Robyn, and I couldn’t figure out why she’d told him. Now, I know.”

My eyes flung open, my body tensing. I should get out of here. I should be making every attempt to flee for my life. Yet, my feet were stapled to the ground, something in the tone of his voice when he said the last thing, making me desperate to know what he was talking about.

Sinclair might not know where Damon was or where he was going, but he did know something I didn’t; he knew why they’d left.

“Antoni said Robyn’s not there.”

Sinclair let out a roar of rage.

I peered beyond the column once more, holding my breath. Rodgers was tapping furiously on his cell, but Sinclair…he stared at the paper in his hand, and if rage had the ability to ignite, it would’ve combusted at that moment.

“Get Antoni on the phone.”

“Sir—”

“Now!” Sinclair crushed the paper in his fist and tossed it toward the fireplace, not even noticing when the ball hit the side of the stone facing and bounced in front of the flame instead of landing in it.

“Yes, sir.” There was a beat of silence before the call rang on speakerphone.

“Hello?”

Their footsteps came closer. I pressed back to the column, feeling heartbeats start to scale my throat.

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