Page 182 of By His Vow

I’ve no idea where he went or what he did. I like the idea that he went home alone to sulk. But this is Kingston we’re talking about. I’m not sure sulking is in his vocabulary. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he smashes down every single obstacle in his way until he does.

Another two margaritas that I don’t remember ordering arrive as the server clears our empty plates.

Resting my head back, I lose myself in stupid thoughts about our weekend.

How was it only hours ago that we drove back into the city blissfully happy?

It feels like a lifetime ago now.

Waking up with his hands on my body, feeling him pushing inside me.

“Oh shit,” Cory gasps, his eyes widening as he stares at his cell.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh no, you’re not pulling that shit with me.” Reaching my hand out, I snatch his cell from him and scroll up.

I’ve no idea what I was expecting, but honestly, it wasn’t to see a photo of Kingston’s hand pressed against a woman’s back as he helps her into his car.

Lewis is standing there watching like it’s nothing.

“Maybe it’s an old picture,” Cory adds.

“It was posted forty-five minutes ago,” I point out. “Who is she?”

“No idea. The article doesn’t name her, and there is no way of telling in that photograph.”

I shouldn’t care. And it certainly shouldn’t hurt. But fuck. It does.

Betrayal drips through my veins like poison.

Ripping my tear-filled eyes from the screen, I look up at my friend.

A weird mix of anger, frustration, and regret war inside me.

I can sit here and be disappointed at Kingston for going out with someone else all I like. But I’m doing the exact same thing. And with the man he watched me dancing with, no less.

But still, I’m pissed at him. The stunt he pulled with photos of our private moment at the cabin is unacceptable.

He didn’t even give me a hint that it was going to be front-page news this morning. How fucking fair is that?

I’m about to demand that Cory call us another Uber when a shadow falls over our table.

Glancing up, I find two familiar suited men staring back at me.

How did they find us?

“Can you come with us please, Miss Warner?” one asks, his voice leaving very little room to argue.

I want to, though. Of course I do. It’s how I roll, defying the orders of every controlling man that I can. But something tells me that arguing right now would be a bad move.

“What about Cory?” I ask.

“I think Mr. Denham needs to go home, don’t you?” he states, lifting a brow as I gasp as the realization that they know who he is.

Fuck.