Page 70 of Broken Vows

Everything in me tightens and somehow softens at the same time. “Of course, I won’t say anything,” I say quickly. “If it helps, this is all covered under your NDA. Not that I would ever victim blame or shame.” The words feel inadequate, but they’re all I have. I take a breath, then offer a small olive branch. “Do you want coffee?”

The tiniest uptick happens in his lip, and he nods. “Yes, fucking, please.”

After I brew and pour coffee, I return to the couch and wait for him to resume his story.

“I’ve been investigating my father for over seven years.”

Seven years. Since I was his aide.

“It started with a gut feeling I had about him, then I started to hear rumors and…” And so he talks. And talks. And talks. We drain a pot of coffee, we snack on fruit and dried cereal, we change couch positions, and he keeps talking. He tells me about a freelance journalist who’s written articles for the Times, Sun, and AP, who’s helping him investigate. But the women are hesitant, understandably so, intimidated by his mother’s money and his father’s prestige. But he and the journalist believe that if Olivia, and maybe one other person, comes forward, there would finally be enough evidence for the public to listen.

“So, this is why you hate your father,” I say.

“Yeah,” he answers. “It’s part of it. The rest is… a pretty fucked-up upbringing.”

I have even more questions but I don’t pry. If he wants to tell me, he will. “I told you I worked for your father, remember?” I ask. “But I didn’t see this. Not for myself.” I’m not naïve. I’d heard rumors of his father having affairs with his students. But dorm gossip runs as rampant as a wildfire on dry timber, and I always thought the chatter was just rumors.

Theo doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Well, I’m glad. I guess you were one of the lucky ones.”

I never thought being unfairly expelled from school was lucky. But maybe… he’s right. “What’s your goal with all of this?”

“For everyone to know what he’s done.”

I cock my head. “That’s your goal? What do you get out of it?”

He stands and moves toward the window. At first I think I’ve said something to make him mad, but I realize he’s just thinking. I wait for a bit, let him process what he’s told me, then join him at the window and look at the traffic below.

After a long silence, he says, “It’s not about what I get out of it. Yes, I want to see him buried. He deserves to be destroyed for what he did. Maybe it’s a need for justice, I don’t know.” He crosses his arms and exhales. “But it’s less about me and more about the need to give these women back something. Closure. A chance to tell their story. Help them shed something that’s been haunting them so they can reclaim their voice. They were left unprotected. And it’s my personal mission to make them feel… protected.”

I hate the way my heart swells at his words. I want to bury myself into his chest and tell him he’s a good man. God, I wish he wasn’t getting married because all I want is to have him protect me and make me feel safe. I nudge myself a little closer and lean my head against his bare shoulder. He leans down and kisses the top of my head, and God, I want to lean into it so fucking bad. But in telling me this, he’s lifted a weight I’ve been carrying around since the day I saw him in the hotel with Olivia, and I’m grateful to finally let it go.

I lift my head and step back, away from his smooth skin and mouth-watering scent. “Thank you for being honest with me. What you’re doing for these women, it’s really noble. Annabelle is one lucky woman.”

A warm smile breaks across his face. Knowing. He faces me, lifts his hand to my cheek, and swipes his thumbs across my skin.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I take a wide step back. I’m not strong enough for this. He needs to leave, now. “Please don’t do this. Please, Theo… my heart can’t take it.” My lips tremble. “It’s too much.” He takes another step towards me like I didn’t just beg him to stop, and I shake my head. “Please don’t.”

His dark eyes burn into mine, and there’s still this look on his face that I can’t describe. Soft, determined, serious. “Are you holding back because you don’t want me… or because I’m getting married?”

The reason doesn’t matter. We can’t. If my body and heart would listen to my mind, this would be so much easier. “Because…” I pull in a sharp breath, tired of keeping up the act. “Because you’re getting married.”

I hate admitting it, but it’s true.

And then he takes a step closer. And then another, completely closing the gap between us. His body presses against mine and my throat rolls as I swallow. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he says, trailing a finger down my robe, then gripping the belt. “Because the wedding’s off.”

31 Lexie

Did I hear that right? The wedding is off? The thing I wished for since the first day he stepped into our office—what began as a desire for revenge and slowly transformed into something deeper, something that made me want him—had just come out of his beautiful, smiling mouth.

I’m dreaming. This isn’t real. But when he cups my face with both hands, I feel the warmth from his palms spread across my cheeks, down my chest, and lower…

“Sorry—what?” I blink. “The wedding’s off?”

His smile widens into a slow, unapologetic smirk, clearly enjoying my confusion. “Wow,” he says. “I knew I had an effect on you, but I didn’t think I’d render you temporarily unable to process complete sentences.”

I ignore his remark, still struggling to understand. “So… you and Annabelle aren’t getting married?” I ask needing to hear it again to believe it.

“Nope.” He swoops my hair to the side and presses his mouth so close to my ear that his breath tickles my skin. “You are looking at a very single man.”