Page 3 of Savage Vows

He cuts her off. “You ask a lot of questions.”

And just like that, I see it—the moment he pivots. A flash of something darker behind the smile. Julie stiffens a fraction, but holds her ground.

“Only because I’m curious,” she says, voice light. “Curious people make good partners.”

He studies her, then chuckles. “And dangerous ones.”

She laughs like it’s a joke. Like her pulse isn’t pounding hard enough for me to feel it across the room.

Serrano flags the bartender and orders another round. Top-shelf. Neat. He’s showing off now, trying to reset the mood. Julie relaxes her shoulders again. She’s back in control—for now.

Serrano tosses back the drink like it’s water.

He’s used to the burn.

Julie laughs again at something he says—I miss the setup, but I catch the punchline: “…and the alderman didn’t even blink. That’s when I knew I had him.”

She smiles like that’s funny. Like corruption’s charming when it comes in a custom-tailored suit.

His hand lingers on her arm now, more deliberate this time. Julie doesn’t flinch. She leans in just a little closer, just enough to suggest interest without inviting assumption.

Serrano lowers his voice. “This place is too loud. You want to go somewhere quieter?”

There it is.

My fingers tighten around my glass. Not because I’m surprised. We expected this. Hoped for it, even. But it’s still hard to stay seated when I see the gleam in his eyes. The kind that says he thinks he’s in control.

Julie tilts her head. “That depends. Where’s quieter?”

He grins. “There’s a private lounge upstairs. My place. Just above the DJ booth. Soundproof. Discreet.”

Julie lifts her brows. “Discreet, huh?”

He laughs, his hand brushing the small of her back. “Best word in the business.”

She hesitates, just enough to be believable, then nods. “Lead the way.”

He sets a few bills on the bar without counting. The bartender sees them, nods once. Serrano turns, confident and smug, expecting her to follow.

She does. But not before glancing back—just once—toward the mirror behind the bar. Her eyes meet mine. No expression, but I read the message loud and clear.

He took the bait. Now move.

I wait a beat before standing. Smooth. Casual. I slip my phone into my coat, the mic still hot, the camera tucked behind a pinhole lens.

Nobody notices me. Why would they?

I’m not the pretty girl in the red heels.

I’m not the man in the leather jacket taking up too much space.

I’m the background. The coat that doesn’t match the scene. The girl no one talks to.

And that’s why I’ll hear everything that matters.

I trail them from a distance, weaving through the crowd like I’m looking for someone—like I’m drunk and bored and not burning with adrenaline.

They disappear behind a velvet curtain near the stairs. A bouncer stands there, arms crossed, pretending not to watch.