Page 77 of The Vow

“Why?” I tipped my head up, my forehead knotting. “What’s happening?”

He looked over my shoulder and then came back. “We have to go see Belmont now.”

“What are you going to do?” My throat felt tight, almost too tight to speak.

Damon stepped back, and cool air swept into the space that opened between us. I brought my hand to my stomach, willing my breaths to stabilize. Willing myself to remain calm. And then he took it, drawing my hand to him and peeling the glove from my fingers so both my arms were bare. Like a souvenir, he tucked the velvet pair into his jacket pocket.

“Damon—”

“Oranges, Robber.”

My eyes flicked to his torso. “What are you talking about?”

Warm fingers closed on my chin, lifting my eyes back to his. “Not everything is as it seems.” He kissed me hard again, stealing my breath just before he pulled back, demanding, “Repeat it, Robber.”

My eyes fluttered, my throat working to get the words out. “Not everything is as it seems.”

“Good.” His jaw popped and then locked. “We have to go.”

Chapter Twenty

Robyn

We were back in the thick of the crowd, gliding through the glitter and greed and feigned generosity. The music pulsed with a subliminal beat, engineered to draw the guests to its energy. There were so many servers. More than I’d noticed before, heaping glass after glass of alcohol to loosen purse strings. And the men in green. Everywhere I turned, there was another top hat and camera flash. Another photo on the screen. Another victim to Belmont’s concealed criminality.

And then I saw him. Belmont. And a different anger came over me.

The hate I harbored for him for my parents’ deaths was a constant throb in my chest. Steady. Pulsing. Insistent. But this new anger was far different. It was pointed and sharp. It burned with a lethal, electric ire that demanded reckless retribution. And there was only one reason for it: because he’d harmed my husband.

Because he’d punished Damon for the things he’d done for me.

I might loathe Damon. I might want to torture and punish him at most instances for the hell he’d put me through. And I definitely still might—would, definitely stillwould—turn him into the FBI for the crimes he’d committed. But that didn’t mean anyone else could hurt him. He was my husband. Mine to hurt. Mine to harm. Mine to hand over.

Mine to hold onto.

My heart fluttered, and I gave my head a small shake. I couldn’t get ahead of myself. There was a difference between wanting to know the truth, being willing to believe it, and allowing it to make a difference.

In the tangle of my thoughts, I must’ve stiffened or slowed or something because Damon’s hold on my hand tightened.

“Remember what I said, Robber.Oranges,” he murmured, but the look in his eyes, it was the same as when he’d put the ice on his stomach—when something caused him exquisite pain.

All these years I have never loved anyone but you.

Damon’s words had hijacked my mind. Like pirates pilfering the precious cargo of my thoughts and aches and wants. And right now, I had to ignore them and focus on Belmont. You’d think it would be easy to focus on revenge against the man who’d murdered my parents. But no matter how great, how strong, how long-standing the hate…it toppled like a giant against the tiniest stone thrown in the defense of love.

Why did Damon think now was a good time to say this? Why, when we were back in the lion’s den?

And why was it starting to feel like it was because he thought he might not get another chance?

My heart stumbled over its beats, catching itself just as we reached Belmont and his little posse.

“Bernie, old sport.” Damon’s grin widened at the appearance of Belmont’s frown. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“Mr. Remington. So good to see you again. And looking much better than the last time we spoke.” Only once he struck his own barb did Belmont’s smile slither like a leech over his face, his gaze turning to me as he extended his hand, expectant of mine. “Mrs. Remington.”

“Mr. Belmont.” I smiled even though I would’ve rather dipped my entire arm in acid than have him touch any part of me.

Belmont hardly made it through the bastardized gesture before his eyes were back on Damon, and mine scrutinized him a little stronger.

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