Page 57 of Betrayal and Vows

“Anton.”

He shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal he removed one of my friends.

He got rid of him for me.

And that should scare me.

But it doesn’t.

It makes me feel safe.

Like no one can touch me without answering to him.

“Be good,” I say and walk away.

The rest of brunch passes like that.

Another guest tries to flirt. Anton suddenly blocks the view with his broad frame.

A server trips near me.

Anton is shoving him away from me like he’s personally responsible for any stain removal on my ridiculous dress.

Touch-her-and-die is not just a mood. It’s hismission.

It thrills me.

And kills me.

Because I can’t keep him.

As the party slows, I reach for another glass of champagne, because if I don’t drown myself in something fizzy and French, I might scream in the middle of Vadim’s rose garden.

Anton is beside me again.

“That’s enough.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve had three.”

“Now you’re counting?”

“Someone has to.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

His words hit like ice.

I turn slowly, ready to let the man have it. I’m in a pissy mood, and he’s right there. A target I didn’t know I needed. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I’m trying to survive this damn brunch without crying in public.”

He doesn’t even look at me.