Misguided Vows (Lethal Vows Book 5)
Misguided Vows: Chapter 18

Monday can’t come soon enough. I was even more furious with Will by the time I returned to the hotel, and no matter how much I tried to lose myself in work, I was constantly distracted by the thought of him.

I toss and turn for an hour, trying to get to sleep with no luck. Frustrated, I kick off the blankets, throw on some jeans, and put my hair into a messy bun before taking the elevator down to the lobby and stepping out onto the street.

The air is refreshing, and I pocket my hands in the hoodie I’m wearing. I just need a walk or something. It’s not like me to get so bothered by some guy. So why am I now? I round the corner and step into the convenience store.

I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, but I’ll know it when I see it. I’m scanning the chocolates when my phone pings. I open my emails, and a cold shiver runs over my skin.

A new email. A simpler message this time.

You stole from me.

I swallow as I delete the email as if I never saw it.

That’s two emails in two days when I haven’t heard from them in months. I internally curse as I close my eyes and push away all the imposing thoughts. What if they found me? I thought it was all behind me now.

I grab a chocolate bar with caramel in it and continue down the aisle.

It’s close to midnight, so there’s only a few customers. I walk past the cosmetics section and pause as I look at the red lipsticks. I look around, noticing that I’m alone. I discretely look up at the ceilings and don’t see any cameras.

My fingers curl around the lipstick, and my heart pounds with the thrill and thought of pocketing it. It’s an impulse. A need. A want.

It’d be so easy too. It always has been.

As a child I learned I had a knack for taking what wasn’t mine, as a teenager and even in my early adult years it became an impulse. I’d never been caught and I close my eyes and try to push away the thrill. That was the old me. Part of my past and what haunts me now.

I take the lipstick and round the corner. When I approach the counter, I place the chocolate bar on the counter followed by the lipstick. The cashier absentmindedly rings up the items as I stare at the lipstick. When was the last time I wore red? Why did I stop?

I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am now, and I refuse to let my demons catch up with me. Once I’m done with this job, I’ll go back to London, because being back on American soil doesn’t feel entirely safe.

These emails might just be harassment. But I can’t help but be paranoid that it’ll become something more. And I’m not willing to risk everything I’ve built being ruined by the same man who ruined me all those years ago.