Page 32 of Brutal Vows

He pretends to be serious, but I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

I grab my plate of uneaten pasta, stride over to the sink, and dump it down the drain. I run the water and the garbage disposal at full blast, hoping the racket will deafen him.

He leans over the table, picks up my empty glass, and refills it with Pinot. Over the din of the garbage disposal, he shouts, “I’ll try the panna cottaandthe tiramisu. And I love mango ice cream, if you’ve got it.” He smirks. “If not, I’m sure you could whip up a batch, since you’re such a walloping good cook.”

I turn off the water and the disposal, grip the edge of the sink, close my eyes, and take a deep breath, praying for strength and for the ceiling to give way and collapse onto his head.

When I open my eyes, Quinn is staring at me with such burning heat, my heart flip-flops.

“Are you afraid to be alone with me, lass?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You sure? You look a bit flustered.”

“This is how I always look before I throw up.”

He pulls his lips between his teeth. His eyes sparkle, and his chest starts to shake.

He’s laughing at me again.

What a big fucking surprise.

“Mr. Quinn—”

“Spider.”

I glare at him, heat burning my cheeks and my heart pounding. “I will never call you that stupid nickname. Now please.Go.”

He tilts his head and examines my expression. His eyes are still hot, but there’s something soft in them, too. Something… unexpected.

He points at my empty chair and orders, “Sit.”

My back stiff, I answer through clenched teeth. “I don’t respond to commands. I’m not a dog.”

“God knows you’re not,” he says hotly. “Now get your fine arse in that chair, woman. Don’t make me tell you a third time.”

That sounded distinctly like a threat. I snap, “Or what?”

He growls, “Or I’ll take you over my knee and teach you some bloody manners.”

This bastard just threatened to spank me!

My heart takes off into a thundering gallop. My hands start to shake. My breath is shallow, and there’s a high-pitched ringing in my ears.

I can’t remember the last time I was this furious.

Oh, wait. Yes, I can.

The last time he was in my house.

I glance longingly at the wooden block of sharpened kitchen knives on the counter.

Quinn says softly, “Reyna.”

I look at him. Big, masculine, and handsome, taking up all the space in the room. His gaze like a forest fire and the faintest hint of a smile hovering on his full, sculpted lips.

Suddenly, I can’t wait to get out of here.