Ruined Vows Read Online Stasia Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Suspense Tags Authors: Stasia Black Advertisement1

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He keeps counting, and my eyes keep slowly tracking around the square.

And fuck me, after going around it four times, I’m breathing easier and not dead.

I’ve never pulled back from an attack so quickly.

I look up into Isaak’s face, blinking away the last shreds of panic as the real world comes into focus. I feel steadier. More solidly here, in my body and less in that crazy, frantic place.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh god I’m so embarrassed. I’m so⁠—”

“No. What are you talking about?” Isaak shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

He pulls me into his chest, and I’m able to suck in another full breath as his arms close around me.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whisper into his chest.

His arms stiffen around me at that, and my rib cage suddenly tightens back up again. Shit. That was a totally bitchy, unfair thing of me to say after he just brought me to my wedding cake tasting. And then he was so amazing to me when I freaked out⁠—

“Just taking care of my client.”

I nod and it’s like a splash of cold water.

“Of course.” I pull away from him but at the last second, his arms clench tighter and we’re both caught, gazes locked.

Yes, I’ve been the one who was clear from the beginning that I was only available as a temporary fling until my wedding.

But… I look up into Isaak’s flint gray eyes.

He’s never even talked about having a long-term girlfriend before. Maybe he’s into unobtainable women and has only stayed with me this long because I was the perfect no-strings arrangement. I’m literally engaged to another man.

But what if…

What if I wasn’t engaged? Would Isaak be interested in something more with me, then?

Is that something I can even ask him? My eyes search his.

And if his answer is no, does that mean I marry Drew as a backup?

My stomach twists. That’s disgusting. I drop my eyes, ashamed of myself for even thinking about it. I pull away, breaking the charged moment.

Either I’m all in with either man or none.

If I’m not, I don’t deserve either of them.

“We should go,” Isaak says, voice gruff.

When I glance up at him again, his face is closed off, and he’s opening the passenger seat door for me.

I swallow and climb up, wanting to beg him to look at me again. But so I can say what?

In the end, I don’t say a word, just yank my seatbelt on. He strides around the front of the truck and climbs in beside me.

He turns on an obnoxious country station, and I don’t make a snarky comment about it. Because, if it turns out I have to walk away with neither of them, I want to memorize this moment with him. These rides in his truck are going to be some of the most precious memories I’ve ever had. And as long as everything stays at this perfectly balanced détente, I can hold onto these last moments for just a little while longer.

THIRTY-SEVEN

ISAAK

I glance over at the clock again. One-thirty in the morning, and I’m still not asleep. Fucking bullshit. Kira’s got class in the morning and her alarm’s going off at seven sharp no matter what.

She’s already sprawled across my chest, snoring away. She never did tell me what set her off the day she had that panic attack.

But things have felt… different since that afternoon.

It’s like we both feel the days counting down until the wedding, but neither of us has the guts to say anything about it.

A better man would start pulling away and re-establishing distance between us.

So would a smarter man.

But I never said I was a good man or a smart one, and I can’t help but steal every last second I can get with her before she marries that slick, rich fuck and gets all she dreamed of. I’ve been around long enough to know that you don’t come across someone like Kira Roberts often. She’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman.

I close my eyes and breathe out. Sleep. Go the fuck to sleep.

My eyes pop right back open again not five minutes later.

My buddy Art always said if a man was very, very lucky, he’d find his own Angelique Boyer in his lifetime. Angelique Boyer was, in Arturo’s words, “a French-Mexican goddess” and his telenovela crush who always stood as the epitome of female perfection to him. Art once wept real tears telling me about her role in Teresa.

I don’t know much about telenovelas, but I do recognize that Kira is special like nothing else I’ve come across. She’s not like the girls I occasionally had as foster sisters. I mean, some were fine.

But a few were meaner than the little orange scorpions that sting you in the back brush when you pick up a rock too fast. I learned to keep my distance from all girls after run-ins with a couple of those. At least until we were all teenagers and some girls started flirting with me and reaching for my dick. Those girls weren’t usually that impressive, either, and they were always wanting things from me that I didn’t have to give.


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