Page 94 of Vow

Andino’s voice filtered in her ear with a soothing, sexy quality. Fuck her body for feeling some kind of way about it, too. Haven pushed those thoughts aside as she turned to watch the black car coming her way.

“You’re having me followed now?” Haven demanded. “Is that your next thing? Instead of you coming and going, you’re sending someone else to do it for you, or …? Because I don’t appreciate it, and you can call them off at any fucking time.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I am—”

“Haven,” Andino murmured, “you made yourself perfectly clear, and even though you weren’t willing to let me talk or explain some things … I heard you. As best as I could. I swear to God, if someone is following you, it’s not me.”

Haven stiffened in place, and her gaze lifted to watch as the car came closer. “It’s not you.”

“No.”

“Then, who the fuck is it?”

Andino cleared his throat. “It’s probably the Calabrese just making sure things are as they want it to be.”

“You mean … we’re not together.”

“Exactly that. They know better than to hurt you, but I am sure they are just making themselves known. My advice would be this … if they’re watching you, Haven, then watch back. Make them know that you’re aware they are there. Don’t be afraid—don’t let them think for a second that they’re bothering you. Watch them as much as they watch you.”

“Watch them.”

That felt odd.

“As long as they’re watching you, yeah,” he said. “And Haven?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still sorry. And I still love you.”

Fuck him.

She didn’t need to hear that.

He couldn’t possibly mean it.

Haven hung up the call.

FIFTEEN

Three weeks to go.

The countdown was on.

A weight pressed down on Andino’s shoulders as he stared at the place card that had been set in front of him alongside four different slices of cake. He was not a sweets person, really. He could do without cake, and sugar.

Not today, apparently.

Today, he had to cake test.

For his fucking wedding.

“The traditional flavors all have a nice twist, as you will all find once you begin the tasting. There’s also our signature flavor,” the baker said, leaning over the table to point at a chocolate cake that Andino was sure tasted exactly like it fucking looked. “This one here. Now, the final one … The lemon cake has a zest—”

“Lemon is disgusting for a wedding cake,” Siena said.

At the other end of the table, Kev made a noise under his throat, and tossed his oldest sister a glare. “You could at least let the woman finish speaking, Siena.”