Page 192 of Filthy Promises

About the man standing before me, with all his flaws and lies and surprising moments of tenderness.

About the life that awaits us, complicated and dangerous—but never, ever boring.

“I’m still figuring that out,” I answer honestly. “But I’m here. And I’m trying, too.”

55

ROWAN

Something tugs me from sleep. A prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

I’m not alone.

My eyes snap open as my heart beatboxes against my ribs. Everything is drenched in silver moonlight, an ocean of mercury.

And there, in the armchair by the window, a darker shadow. The unmistakable silhouette of a man.

“Jesus Christ!” I bolt upright and clutch the sheets to my chest. “What are you doing in here?”

Vince doesn’t move from the chair, his face half-hidden in darkness. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decided to watch me, like some kind of creepy stalker?” My pulse is still racing, though the initial surge of fear is already fading into irritation. “We’ve talked about boundaries, Vince.”

“I know.” His voice is soft, almost apologetic. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“And yet here you are. Maybe I should get you a dictionary. Or a shock collar.” I reach for the lamp on my nightstand and switch it on. Gold light chases away the silver.

Vince blinks against the sudden brightness. He looks different. Sweats instead of a suit. Eyes baggy and tired.

Vulnerable.

Human.

“Trouble sleeping?” I ask, my tone softening despite myself.

“Something like that.” His eyes meet mine across the room. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

“Oh, yeah?” I say sarcastically. “Something special happening, or…?”

He doesn’t laugh.

All the humor goes whistling out of me in a sigh. “The wedding,” I say glumly.

He nods. “The wedding.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“No. Not about marrying you.”

“Then what?”

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, his face now fully visible in the lamplight. There are more shadows under his eyes than I realized at first. I wonder just how many sleepless nights he’s had since we came here.

“I’ve been thinking about us,” he says finally. “About how we got here.”

I sit up straighter. “Vince?—”

“Please,” he interrupts. “Let me say this. I may not get another chance.”

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