Page 41 of Ruined Vows
“That you are. Can’t you stomp him to death with your four-inch stilettos? That might be easier.”
My frappe sputters in my mouth, and I purse my lips to keep it in.
I give Joanne a side-eye. Did she have to say that when my mouth was full?
I swallow and say, “If I do this right, he’ll call it off before we ever hit the halfway mark.”
Joanne sips her matcha again. “You know this only works if you don’t accidentally fall for him in the middle of all this.”
I scoff. “Please. He’s a six-foot-two slab of Serbian nightmares who stares at me like he wants to wear my skin.”
I never considered falling for the man. I mean, he was our enemy, until he wasn’t. And the only reason that he isn’t our enemy is because my brothers pimped me out to win the war.This is a house of cards, and if I pull one on the bottom, it will fold like quicksand.
Joanne smirks. “And yet, you flushed when you said that.”
I scowl. “That was the caffeine.”
“Uh-huh.” She rests her chin on her upturned palm.
Joanne fiddles with her drink with a sigh that’s half thoughtful, half anticipation.
“Okay, you’ve got the psychological warfare lined up. But now we need to talk strategy.”
I lift a brow. “I thought we justdid.”
“No, no.” She waves her perfectly manicured hand. “I’m talking fashion strategy. You can’t pull off a full mental takedown wearing last season.”
I chuckle. “This wrap dress is Saint Laurent.”
“Exactly.Lastseason’s Saint Laurent.”
I glare. Perhaps she has a point.
“You’re lucky I love you. You know how I am about my clothes.”
Joanne grins like the cat that has just caught a new designer mouse. “There’s a new drop from Ravella. Custom line. Only released in three cities—Milan, Paris, and New York.”
This piques my interest even though I’ve been acting like I’m in control of the situation. Despite myself, and always knowing when there’s news in the fashion industry, I ask. “The Ravella? The twisted silk with the spine-cut backs?”
“Mhmm.” She pulls up a photo on her phone and slides it across the table.
The dress is emerald. Barely there. Sin and art stitched together with cruelty and genius. This will wreck any man. But will it break Vukan? He’s a man who’s used to getting what he wants. I just need to wait him out and make him die from sexual frustration.
“Oh,” I whisper. “That’s evil. I love it. You’re pretty good at this,” I marvel at her thoroughness.
Joanne smirks. “And it would lookillegalon you.”
“I’d be in his mind if I walked into a date in that.”
“Exactly. Make him sweat. Make him forget how to speak. Make himsuffer.”
I laugh, my head tipping back so far that my long hair dangles off my back. I want Vukan to trip over his feet. It would be nice if he fell on his face and broke it, too. “God, I love you.” I lean over and hug her.
“So we’re buying it, right?”
I pause. “We?”
“You think I’m letting you do emotional sabotage in couturealone?”
