Page 12 of Beneath His Vow (Knocked Up and Locked Down #1)

As soon as 5 p.m. hits, I’m out of my seat, my computer already shut down. I don’t pause to shrug into my jacket. I snag it off the back of the chair and then I’m bolting for the elevator. As the doors slide shut, I see his smug face, leaning against the top of a cubicle, a folder in his hands.

I fucking hate him.

I don’t avert my gaze until the doors slide shut and only then do I breathe.

Two of my colleagues try to make small talk, and I give them clipped but polite responses.

I don’t allow myself to relax even a fraction until I’m out of the front door and standing on the sidewalk in front of the building.

I want to break, to lose my composure, but Casey is waiting and if he knows what happened today he’ll burn the building to the ground just to avenge me.

But my heart slows when I see him, my body relaxes and relief floods every cell.

I’m safe because he’s here.

He’s leaning against his truck, his arms folded over his cut, his ankles crossed.

Despite my efforts, I can’t hide my upset and he notices it because he sees everything when it comes to me.

He pushes off the truck and is moving with purpose. We meet in the middle of the sidewalk and he takes my face in his hands instantly, his expression tight in that way it always is when he has something to fight.

“What’s wrong?”

I don’t want to do this here, where my colleagues are filtering out of the building, where there is a risk he might run into James and do something even his club can’t protect him from.

So I shake my head. “Nothing. I’m just really tired.” My fingers tighten around his cut, scared to let go in case I drift away. “Can you take me home, please?”

He scans every inch of my face, seeing through my lies. Of course he does. He knows me better than I know myself. “Lex… Talk to me.”

“Not here. In the car.”

He walks me over to the truck, his arm draped around me like a protective shield.

When we reach the truck, he opens my door and helps me in. I don’t realize I’m shaking until he steadies my hands. Fuck, I need to calm down or he’ll flip.

I reach for my seat belt, but he snags it first and gently secures it under the swell of my belly. Then his hand cups my knee, his eyes a fierce storm, as if he’s not sure whether he needs to unleash a hurricane or let the clouds part for the sun.

“What’s goin’ on?”

I shake my head. “Not here. Please, Casey, just take me home.”

My chin wobbles, my emotions hanging by a thread. He wants to argue—I see it in his face—but he doesn’t. He stands, closing my door and walks around the hood.

The air feels caught in my chest while I wait for him to slide into the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t say a word until we’re on the road, my office building in the rear-view mirror.

“Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

I’m too upset to lie, tears already clinging to my eyelashes, a barbed fist settling in my throat. I have to give him something, even if it’s not the whole truth.

“I got written up at work.”

His head tilts, and the cold, calculated look in his eyes is one I’ve only ever seen directed at his enemies. “For what?”

I laugh, but it’s sharp. “Because my work isn’t up to standard.”

The way he scoffs makes my heart swell. “They’re wrong. Did you tell them that?”

I love that he defends me, even without evidence. He just has my back.

“I tried. But…” I shift my shoulders, not sure how to explain anything without telling him the depths of the lies woven by James.

I scrub my tear-stained cheeks, feeling rung out and weak. “I just have to keep my head down and work harder, prove that I’m good at my job.”

And I am good at my job. That’s what stings the most.

He splits his gaze between me and the road. Then he hits the blinker.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going back to your office.”

I blink. “Why?”

“To fix this,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Ain’t havin’ you sittin’ in my truck crying because of some bullshit lies. There ain’t a single thing in this world that you ain’t good at, Lex. So I don’t fuckin’ believe them when they say you’re not good at your job.”

That warms me to my core, but it also sends a shiver of panic through me. If he goes inside, if he talks to James, he’s going to know the truth. Casey is like a bloodhound when it comes to getting information out of people.

“Don’t. You’ll just make it worse.”

His eyes narrow as he turns into a side street. “How the hell can I make it worse than this?”

“They could fire me. Please, Casey. Please, just trust me. I’m handling it, okay?”

That might be the biggest lie I’ve told since all of this began. I’m not handling anything. I’m tiptoeing along a live wire, waiting to be electrocuted.

His jaw ticks. “You’re fuckin’ upset. Ain’t havin’ it.”

“I am upset,” I agree. “But please don’t make this worse than it is.”

He turns the car onto another street, his movements jerky. “I don’t like this. I don’t like you bein’ distressed.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re cryin’.”

“It’s just… hormones.” That lie stings more than I expect. I’m not hormonal or hysterical—or any other bullshit label. I’m fucking angry and stung by the injustice of this shit. “Casey, please.”

He snarls under his breath, but when he reaches the end of the street, he doesn’t turn back toward my office. Instead, he turns right, toward home.

Thank fuck.

“You come out of work like this again and I’m not backing down. They don’t get to make you feel less than, Lexi. You’re my wife, mine . And no one fuckin’ upsets you. I don’t care who they are, I’ll bulldoze the whole building if they make you cry again.”

“I know you will.” And that’s exactly why I’m not telling him everything.

Because if my husband knew the truth, he’d kill James and bury his body somewhere they’d never find him.