Misguided Vows (Lethal Vows Book 5)

My head hurts. A lot.

I groan at the headache pounding in my skull.

Shit, what did I say to Honey and Rya last night?

Oh gosh, I accused them of wanting to traffic me.

I bury my head deeper into my pillow when there’s knocking on my door.

Is that what woke me up?

I bet it’s him again, but this time I welcome the coffee. I fell asleep in my clothes again and don’t even bother finding anything else to change into as I pull the door open.

“You better—” The words die on my lips when I discover room service waiting at the door with a tray.

“Good morning. I have your breakfast order,” he says. I politely smile and step back so he can enter.

I stand to the side as the waiter carries the tray in and begins setting covered plates on the table. Wow, this is definitely better than just coffee, but I don’t recall ordering it.

Maybe I ordered it before I fell asleep?

“How much do I owe you?” I ask.

“It’s all been paid for plus the tip,” he says, then leaves with the tray tucked under his arm.

Okay. I’m not going to say no to free food or caffeine first thing in the morning.

I shut the door behind him and then walk to the table to sit down. Stumble might be more of an accurate word, as I realize I’m still possibly drunk. My head is hazy as I groan in pain.

Eggs, bacon, bread, orange juice, plus a coffee are arranged neatly in front of me. My stomach starts to growl as I pick at a piece of bacon.

I sigh as I recap the night, focusing mostly on seeing Will.

I wonder how I should thank him for breakfast, because I know it was him. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.

Strange. He’s an arrogant, cocky prick, but then he does things such as pulling out my chair, carrying my bags, and ordering me breakfast. I don’t think I’m ready to look further into the fact that perhaps he isn’t that bad of a guy.

Wow, I really am still drunk.

Reaching for my phone, that is almost dead, I call Honey. She answers straight away.

“So, I think I should start by apologizing for last night,” I blurt.

“No need. I had so much fun. And Rya did as well.”

“But the things I said…”

“It’s fine, really. I’d be more skeptical of you if you didn’t question it. How are you doing this morning?”

“I feel a little dead, but I got room service, which I didn’t order. I have a feeling Will ordered it for me. He was waiting for me last night in the lobby when I got back.”

“Was he just?” she says and I can imagine her biting back a smile. I groan as my headache intensifies

“Do you have his number?” I ask. “It’s fine if you don’t want to share it, but I want to thank him for helping me into my room last night,” I say, eating another piece of bacon. “Not in that way!” I quickly snap before she can look into it any further. “I lost my card.”

“If you say so.” She chuckles on the other side of the phone.

My phone dings, and I pull it away from my ear.

“That’s Dawson’s number, he sent it to you,” she explains.

“Thank you.” And I’m grateful that she doesn’t prod me any further about the strangeness of whatever is happening between me and Will.

She asks to meet up later to look at an apartment she said I can stay in while I’m here. It looks like I’ll be here for at least another month, and her old apartment is apparently available.

Deciding the best action is to shower before I call Will, I make sure I eat everything on my plate before I do. Once I’m clean and dressed in clothes that I haven’t slept in, I dial his number.

He answers straight away.

“Milady,” he croons. I still cringe at the word and I’m certain he’s used it ever since he realizes how much I hate it–always purposefully winding me up, baiting me for a reaction.

“My name is Alina,” I remind him. And to think, for a second, I was considering him to be anything but annoying.

“If you say so.” He chuckles.

“Did you send me breakfast?” I ask, exasperated because I’m really not in the mood for his quick responses this morning. More or less I’m not sure if I can keep up with them while I’m in such a vulnerable state.

“Of course I did. I hear the way to get between a woman’s legs is to feed her, so I’m feeding you.”

I sag back into bed, shaking my head with a sigh. “You really have no shame.”

“I do not,” he confesses. “Now, meet me downstairs. I need a shopping partner, and I know you’ll give me your honest opinion.”

“Shopping? I don’t know if I’m in the mood to go anywhere today.”

“You owe me a favor, remember?”

“A favor for wh—”

He hangs up, and I curse under my breath. Motherfucker.

Considering I don’t meet with the contractors until Monday, I do technically have the day off. I might feel like death, but it’d also been a while since I explored New York. And the very vague memory of him helping me into my room resurfaces.

Fuck. Fine.

I change clothes, grab my purse, and head downstairs. When I reach the lobby ten minutes after the call, he’s waiting for me, dressed in a clean, pressed suit. His baby blue eyes look up from his phone screen, and that dimply smile kicks up my heart rate.

I get flashes of him pressing against me in the elevator from last night and a low ache begins between my thighs keeping tempo with my headache.

I’m pretty sure we didn’t do anything last night.

Am I disappointed that nothing happened?

I push away that irrational thought and remind myself I’m still drunk… I think.

“So, what do you need help with?” I ask as he strides along beside me. The doorman greets me with a smile, and I’m not sure if I missed out on something, because he seems to be very familiar with me.

“I figured you, who has impeccable taste, were the right person to call.”

“That I do,” I agree. “But you still haven’t told me what we’re shopping for.”

When we reach the sidewalk, a black car is already waiting for us at the curb. Will steps in front of me to open the back door. He closes it behind me, then he circles the back of the car and gets in beside me, angling himself to give me his full attention.

It’s intimidating.

Even with his smartass mouth, there is something dangerous that lurks inside him.

I kind of like it.

And I want to slap myself because of it.

I’ve dated the bad boy before, and that was the worst relationship I’ve had. I can’t fall for that type of charm again.

“I’m not telling you what we’re shopping for. It’s a surprise.”

“Are you sure you’re not kidnapping me?” I say, rolling my eyes at him.

“If I were kidnapping you, you’d be tied to my bed already,” he says matter-of-factly.

Heat swarms to my core, and the visual of that has me curling my nails into my palms. He smirks knowingly. Fuck, why does my body react to him so profoundly.

Maybe I just need to get laid—by anyone—and it’ll shake this temptation off.

The driver pulls out and follows the traffic.

“How did you get my number?” he asks. “I would have gladly given it to you if you had asked.” When I don’t reply, he leans in. Damn, he smells good. “Is it so you can send me naughty messages at night?”

“You are so full of yourself,” I’m quick to say.

“You, too, could be full of me.” He winks, and my eyes go wide.

He did not just say that.

I don’t know why I’m shocked every time he says something so promiscuous.

“Does this seriously work on other women?”

“You’ve asked me this before, love. I don’t try this hard on other women.”

“Oh, that makes me feel special.”

“You are special,” he says, continuing to stare at me. I stare back. Something passes between us, and it makes us both uncomfortable. I don’t like the way he looks at me at times like these. Like he can see me. The real me. The ugly me.

“You have ten freckles on your nose,” he says seriously.

“Did you just count my freckles?”

“Yes. And your lips form this sad heart shape when you’re mad, like right now.” He nods to my lips.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, frustrated and tired with not understanding this man. Before, I wanted nothing to do with him. But now I’m noticing I’m becoming interested. And being interested is a bad thing. “Is it just sex?”

“Just sex…” he ponders. His accent thick when he says it. “At first, yes. I wanted to fuck you because you didn’t want me, and I liked that. Now? Well, now I just want to fuck you.”

“That’s sweet, but I’m still not fucking you,” I say, looking outside the window, feigning boredom. The thing with Will is he’s defiantly the person your mother as a child would’ve told you not to play with. He’s mischievous and most likely will get you into all sorts of trouble. The problem being I was that child as well. I was just never caught. I inwardly smirk. I’d never admit it to him, but he brings out a playful side of me that I haven’t had for quite some years. He is as refreshing as he is irritating.

“I bet I can get you to fuck me,” he says matter-of-fact. I turn to him now. This man knows how to challenge me in ways no one has been daring enough before or more specially I was always in control of the game we played.

“You really think you can make a bet like that?” Unfortunately, I’m nothing short of competitive, and I think this asshole knows it because his arrogant smile kicks up, forming that single dimple.

“I’m counting on it, love.”