Page 102 of Vow Of Fire

The sun was too bright. It shone through the blinds I’d forgotten to close when I’d fallen into bed, hating myself. Now it hit me full in the face, giving me an instant headache.

I deserved it.

Why the fuck couldn’t I keep my hands off the goddamn woman? Which part of “last time” didn’t my stupid neanderthal brain understand?

But then she’d walked barefoot into my living room in that silky chemise, her gorgeous breasts on full display, and my resistance had gone out the window. Fine, the whiskey might have had something to do with it, but I was usually more controlled than that, even when I was drunk.

I’d barely slept a wink, haunted by what had passed between us. It was more than just sex, I knew that now. How much more, I couldn’t tell.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out.

I sat up and stared blankly at the oil painting of a small fishing boat tossing on a turbulent sea in front of me. It had been a gift from Leo, before I’d left for my last tour to the Middle East.

I think he’d been trying to tell me I could weather all storms, or maybe he’d predicted the monumental fuck-up that was to follow. Either way, it was a moody, atmospheric piece that always stirred something deep within me. It had never seemed more appropriate.

The brutal truth was there was no place in my life for a woman. Not in my family. I didn’t do divided loyalties, I didn’t want to compromise. I liked living alone.

A woman would disrupt all that.

Hadn’t I already gone back to her apartment to collect her belongings? Put her under my protection? Defended her to my family? Now, she was living in my goddamn home.

And we weren’t even in a relationship.

Problem was I liked seeing her walk around barefoot in that silky excuse for a nightgown. I liked seeing her copper hair hanging loose, her beautiful face devoid of makeup. I’d liked being able to pull her onto my lap and feel how wet she was for me, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I cursed under my breath. I’d always tried to limit my relationships to brief one-nighters so that nobody could see who I really was.

Except Evelyn knew.

She’d seen the monster I could be. I’d interrogated her, for Christ’s sake. I’d held her against her will. I’d threatened her. I’d punished her and made her beg.

Yeah. She knew exactly what I was.

And yet she still wanted me. She still looked at me with awe, like I’d made her feel something nobody else had. She still screamed my name when she came.

I’d never be able to tell her what that did to me. How that made me feel like the king of the fucking universe.

And then after she’d given herself to me, I’d left her alone on the couch, like the bastard I was.

I sighed and got out of bed. I’d be surprised if she wanted anything more to do with me after last night.

Probably a good thing, I thought, as I pulled on some clothes. With sex off the table, we could go back to sticking to our arrangement.

Evelyn would play her part, while my family provided the protection, and together we’d bring the cartel down. She’d get her gallery back, and the Marcellis would help her run it. Our way. I could go back to my life the way it was, before I’d met the flame-haired Ophelia.

Feeling more stable, I opened my bedroom door and headed to the kitchen. To my surprise, I found Evelyn sitting at the dining table, reading something on her phone, a half-finished cup of coffee beside her.

She glanced up as I entered but didn’t say anything. I could tell by her flushed cheeks, hostile expression, and rigid posture that she was still mad at me. Wordlessly, I poured myself a cup of coffee from the readymade pot and sat down opposite her.

She stood up the moment I sat down, her chair scraping on the marble floor.

“Where are you going?” I asked, surprised by her abrupt behavior.

Draining the rest of her coffee, she set the empty cup down on the table and glared at me. “Work. I’m going to work. We have a drug cartel to destroy. Remember?”

As if I could forget.

“Kyle will drive you,” I said.