Page 142 of Ruined Vows
Dragan drives like he’s allergic to speed limits. One hand on the wheel, the other probably hiding a weapon, eyes sharp beneath those designer sunglasses that make him look like he walked out of an Eastern European fashion campaign titledBrooding, But Will Kill You.
“You sure this is the place?” he asks, pulling up in front of the café where Joanne and I plotted Vukan’s fate just over a month ago. I nod, trying not to show how excited I am.
“Positive.”
Joanne’s already inside, perched at the corner of the bar, waving when she spots me. She grins as I walk in, her gaze flicking past me to the wall of muscle that is Dragan, who stands by the entrance like he owns the oxygen.
“Well, well,” she says, voice pitched just enough for trouble. “Is that your new security detail or a sculpture that came to life to ruin panties?”
I sigh. “Joanne…”
“What? I’m just saying. Handsome as fuck goons should come with warning labels.”
Behind me, Dragan shifts his weight. “I heard that.”
She smirks and mouthsworth itat me.
I shake my head, laughing despite myself. Dragan gives me a glance that could curdle wine, but I know he’s amused. Probably.
Joanne and I slide into our favorite table at the back, half-shielded by a hanging plant and years of whispered secrets. The place smells like cinnamon and safety. I wrap my hands around the frappe she sets before me, even before she asks what’s wrong.
“You’ve been weirdly quiet,” she says. “For you.”
I look at her. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Vukan?”
I nod, slow and helpless.
Joanne leans forward, her eyes softening. “Okay, so… how bad is it?”
“It’s bad,” I whisper. “Like—he lives in my head. Rent-free. Renovated. Rewired the damn plumbing. I wake up thinking about his voice. I see him in dreams. I’m this close to buying a Serbian language app just to decode his little pet names.”
Joanne blinks. “Damn.”
“I know.”
She grins wickedly, lowering her voice like we’re planning a heist. “So… how was the sex?”
I nearly choke on my latte. “Jo!”
“Don’t ‘Jo’ me. I have a right to know. You’ve been walking around like your thighs remember something holy. So? Are you ruined?”
I glance around. Dragan is by the door, arms crossed, definitely pretending not to eavesdrop—but his smirk says otherwise.
I lean in. “Yes.”
Her eyes widen.
I nod solemnly. “Yes. I’m ruined. It wasn’t just sex. It was... transcendental. Like my soul came apart and applauded.”
“Shut. Up.”
“I’m serious. The man kissed me like he owned the concept. And when he touched me?” I exhale. “I forgot who I was. I forgot my last name. And worse than that? I forgot why I was fighting him.”
Joanne fans herself dramatically with a napkin. “Jesus. I’m both jealous and terrified for you.”
“Same.”
