Page 229 of A Vicious Love

“I won’t hurt your family.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Even if Father is very irritating?”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Even then.”

“Even if Uncle Theo drinks and calls you young man?”

His eyes darkened. “He should reconsider that.”

“Jamison.”

“No injury. I promise.”

Jamison looked pleased in that arrogant way of his. He lifted my hand and pressed his mouth to my knuckles.

“I’ll behave,” he said against my skin.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You shouldn’t. But I’ll behave where it matters.” His thumb moved once over my fingers before he released me.

Jamison stood. He took his jacket from the chair, slid it on, and adjusted the cuffs. The guns disappeared beneath tailored black fabric, though now that I knew they were there, I could not unsee them. He looked less like a guest at a family retreat and more like a bad omen.

At the stairs, he paused and looked back.

I was still sitting in bed with the pillow clutched against me like armour.

His eyes moved over me. Smugness came back. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“You were checking me out again.”

“I was assessing the weapons.”

“Through my trousers?”

My mouth fell open. “Jamison.”

His smile turned wicked. I threw the pillow at him. He caught it easily with one hand. He looked down at the pillow, then back at me with such absolute male satisfaction that I regretted giving him a physical symbol of my defeat.

“Careful, baby. Throwing bedding at armed men before breakfast can escalate.”

“You promised not to hurt my family, not me.”

His gaze heated. “I would never hurt you.”

The words came without flirtation. A promise made from somewhere darker than tenderness.

He crossed back to the bed with the pillow in hand, set it beside me, then leaned down. His palm came to the side of my face, fingers warm against my hairline.

“I’m sorry for waking you.”

The apology landed softly because he didn’t make it dramatic.