Page 22 of Dangerous Vows

But here we are, and I don’t believe in coincidences.

It’s a rule that has kept me alive for years.

Fate has brought us together, and, well, fate’s a fucking bitch.

What are the odds that she’d be the one my sister-in-law hired to work here? No one would meet their one-night stand inside twenty-four hours because this city is too big.

And yet, here we are.

I take a slow step closer, letting the moment between us stretch. “I own the place.”

Her nostrils flare. “You own the—” She cuts herself off, rubbing a hand over her face. “Great. Just great.”

Her red-stained lips display a pout that makes my cock flare. My suit pants are stretched to capacity.

“You sound thrilled,” I smirk.

“Oh, ecstatic,” she deadpans. “This is just so convenient foryou.” I’m enjoying her discomfort. She must like me because if she didn’t give a damn, she wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me.

There’s no way around the fact that we’re stuck with each other.

That leads me to the logical concern that lurks in my family tree—the family curse.

The Borrelli Curse.

I never cared enough to think a woman I was with was at risk of falling for it, but now I’m concerned.

I know it’s real because I was eight years old the first time I saw what that curse could do. My mother’s scream still rings in my ears, sharp and jagged, as she tumbled down the staircase of our family home. I remember the sound of her bones hitting the marble basement floor. And I remember the stillness in the wake of violence.

I never heard her voice again. I never felt her warm hugs again. Our father took her away and covered it up.

Love doesn’t survive in my bloodline. It rots. It poisons. It destroys and leads to the death of the women we love.

And that’s what my family would be talking about if my woman were to die.

My world is dark, and maintaining relationships is challenging.

And yet, she’s still standing before me, vehemently denying the burning attraction between us. She’s sparring over semantics, and it’s thrilling.

It’s also a turn-on.

I lean against the bar, crossing my arms. “I’d say so. You saved me the trouble of tracking you down.”

Her jaw tightens. “Tracking me down?Please. We had one night.Oneperfectnight, but that’s all it was. And now, we’re coworkers. So, let’s just—” She waves a hand between us. “Let’s forget it happened.”

I tilt my head, baiting her. “You forgot already?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “I meant professionally.”

“Of course,” I murmur.

She doesn’t look convinced.

I watch her for a beat and see how she’s trying so hard to act unaffected, but I know better. I remember the way she melted beneath me. I remember how she looked at me like I was the only thing keeping her anchored to this world. I remember her coming undone under me.

And now, I want her again. One taste is not enough.

I want more.

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