Misguided Vows: Chapter 29

There’s an intensity to Will tonight that I don’t entirely understand. I have the sense that something happened, but he’s using my body, so it’s left unsaid. And I get that. I’ve used men many times before for the same thing. But tonight, it just feels different.

“Maybe I should leave,” I say as he holds the door open.

“Why?” He eyes me, waiting for me to answer him, his hand not letting go of mine.

We had sex two weeks ago, and yet there’s a charge around us that I’ve never experienced before, and it terrifies me.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“We’re fucking,” he says matter-of-factly.

“But—”

“No buts allowed. Unless you want me to fuck you in the butt.” He wiggles his brows.

“Have you ever been in a serious relationship?” I ask, crossing my arms, and even I’m surprised by the question. Why am I asking him this? Now of all times? “You just seem… different tonight.”

He lets out an exhausted breath, and it’s the first time he’s let me have a look at the man under the mask. A different side of Will, I doubt very many see. Hell, I wonder if even his sister sees this side of him. He’s tired. Defeated.

“Should we get a drink? Is that what you want instead of me having you for dessert?” he asks earnestly.

“Yes, a drink sounds good.” I don’t know why it’s important to me, but I feel like he needs more than just sex tonight. Or am I using that as an excuse for myself? I’ve thought about him every day since he disappeared, and the moment he steps back into town, I’m all over him. I’ve never reacted to a man like that. Now I’m asking questions about him.

Who am I?

He adjusts himself and smirks, staring at me as he does it because I can’t help but dip my gaze and bite my bottom lip. He steps toward me, and I purposefully take two steps back, taking me outside of the room. Though, staying in here right now is tempting. He chuckles as he closes the door behind him. It’s the same room he had before, making me assume he never checked out.

Taking my hand, he guides us back to the elevator and presses the button for the rooftop bar. He seems somewhat entertained as he stares at me and asks, “You really feel like a drink?”

I bite my bottom lip. Well, no. Now I’m regretting leaving the room and not fucking him, but I stick to my guns. “Yes. You gave me a plane and have had sex with me, and I know fuck all about you. All I know is that you have a sister.”

“You also know what I do for a living,” he counters.

“You’re a gamer who plays with his cock all day.”

He grins as he steps into my space, and his thumb finds my bottom lip as he studies it, fascinated.

“These lips are going to get you into a lot of trouble one day,” he muses.

“Haven’t they already?” I whisper breathlessly as I stare into his iridescent blue eyes.

He smirks and takes a step back as the elevator doors open.

It’s not too crowded yet, and with the simple wave of his hand, he has a waiter’s attention. Will guides me to an available daybed by the pool where we can look out at the nightlife of New York.

It’s colder up here, and when I half lie down he notices the goose bumps on my arms. He leaves and then returns with a blanket and wraps it around me. The waiter walks over with a bucket of ice, two glasses, and a bottle of champagne.

“Your favorite, isn’t it?” Will asks as the waiter pops the cork.

I nod and watch the waiter pour it before I say, “Like that. How do you know it’s my favorite brand of champagne?”

“Because I’m observant as well as handsome.” He smirks as he picks up both glasses and hands me one. But he makes no move to sip from his.

“Be serious with me. You track people. How does that pay so well?” I’m truly curious. “Is that why you were gone these past two weeks?”

His gaze narrows slightly, and again it’s strange to see this more calculating side of him. I imagine he doesn’t share this information with anyone, so why do I think he’ll share it with me?

He twists so he’s lying on his side, casually propped up with a bent arm. He reaches over and toys with the ends of my hair. “You really want to know the answers to these questions?”

I hesitate because it feels like it’s a loaded gun now. But I’ve never been scared of much, so I defiantly answer, “Yes.”

He cocks a half grin. “Yes, I was gone for two weeks because of a job. My job pays well because my services are in very high demand. I also work for the most brutal and ruthless people in the world, and only those who can afford my fees. I’m the person you turn to as your last resort. I’m even better than the Ghostbusters.”

I roll my eyes. “And are you always such a smartass to them as well?”

He chuckles. “Yes. Humor has saved my life many times, and I enjoy it. I see the way people are. I like to study them and learn about them. I always have. I just realized I was better at it than others.” He still seems fascinated with my hair, and he has to adjust his cock again. I try to suppress a giggle. Knowing this man is so captivated by me definitely strokes my ego.

“You never thought of becoming a detective?” I ask. He goes quiet for a moment and then meets my eyes.

“I was a detective.”

“Oh. And you stopped because…”

“Because I had to find my wife’s killer, and my job didn’t allow me to get dirty enough.”

His words slowly sink in, and I’m frozen in place with shock.

Did he just say…

Clearly, I didn’t hear him right.

His wife?

No, way.

“You were married?” I put my glass on the table and then shuffle to my side to mirror his position. He places his drink to the side as well, and he notices my outstretched hand peeking out from beneath the blanket.

He grabs it, his touch feather light as he says, “Yes.”

I swallow. Hard. “How long ago?”

“High school sweethearts, married straight out of school. She stuck with me through university until I could find a job. I stayed here in the US for her, though we always spoke about spending some time in London before settling down in the small city she grew up in.”

Wow. What the fuck?

“I’m sorry she died,” I say earnestly as I rub my thumb back and forth over his.

He smiles, but there’s no humor in it. He’s uncomfortable. Vulnerable. Perhaps something he hasn’t been in a long time. He looks tired. “So am I,” he says. “Her death was the reason I began to live in this world.”

“What do you mean?”

“River was the one who helped me. I busted one of his warehouses full of guns, but instead of taking him in, I asked for a favor. He got me my first connections, and it grew from there. I eventually found her—well, her body—and then I tracked down her murderers. And, well… you can imagine what happened.”

Dead. Brutalized, most likely. This man is deadly under the surface.

“How long has it been since she passed?” I ask quietly. It feels like nothing else exists on this rooftop bar as we stare into one another’s eyes with old wounds reopening. And not only his. I feel the weight like it’s my own. Of former lives ,we’d prefer not bring to the light.

“Seven years.”

Knowing that about him makes me look at him a little differently. I don’t know why.

“No one here but River knows about her. Maria knows not to speak of her. It’s better that way.”

“Can I ask why?”

“It hurts less.”

I nod. I don’t understand, because I’ve never been married before or even loved someone enough to want to marry them. But I understand running away from demons.

“I don’t know much about death or losing someone you love, but I hope if I die, those who love me will never stop talking about me,” I say, and as I do, the world around us goes silent, and his gaze drops to our intertwined fingers. And for the first time, I don’t see the happy person I’m so used to seeing.

I see a man who has been broken and is trying to put himself back together.

And I like him more.

“I’m sure anyone who loves you would never forget you, Alina.” I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words. Besides my mother, who would truly miss me? Who have I let close enough to care if I went missing?

“Thank you, Will.” He nods, and we fall silent. His gaze flicks back to me. I wonder what type of man he was as a husband. Was he a good one? Was she always laughing?

I want to know all of these things. Yet there’s a bitter twist I don’t entirely understand.

“Do you plan to ever marry again?” I ask.

“No,” he admits. “I loved her, no doubt in my head about that. And I assumed I would never meet anyone as amazing as she was.” He pins me with a stare. “But marriage was something she wanted; I never wanted it.” He leans back over and grabs his drink, reminding me to do the same. As soon as I do, his hand is waiting expectantly for me to place mine back in it.

“Do you want marriage?” he asks.

It wasn’t something I’d seriously considered, not until recently, after watching Honey and Rya. It’s inspiring but also something I’m certain happens in fairy tales. But if I met a man like that, I suppose I would want it.

“I think I do.” I’m smiling as I say it, thinking of Honey and her happiness. It’s all Maria talks about as well. I always thought it was a sign of weakness, but the women here in New York have proven that otherwise.

“I hope you get everything you want, Alina.”

It feels kind of… done. Like that’s the answer we both wanted to hear.

That what we’re doing between us is just that—sex.

It offers me a bitter twist but also a foundation and understanding as to where we stand. He’s a man not willing to step away from his past, and I’m a woman only looking at my future.

“I think we can go to your room now,” I tell him, finishing my drink and placing it down.

“You needed liquid courage to come back to my room?” That playful side of his is back.

I laugh as I lean over and brush my lips against his. I graze my lips along his jaw and then whisper into his ear, “No, I just feel more comfortable now, knowing there are no expectations.”

“Well, I did give you a plane, so I at least want some head.”

I laugh, and he cockily grins and pulls me up from the day bed. I grab the bottle of champagne and say in a sing-song way, “I guess we’ll see what we can manage.”