Page 42 of The Vow Thief

His desk was the size of a car. A portrait of him hung on one wall, painted by someone who charged for flattery. Leather chairs. Thick carpets. The air smelled like scotch.

I took two steps and stopped breathing.

Someone sat on the couch against the far wall. Black slacks. White shirt with the sleeves rolled. Forearms that knew work.

Sean Macon lifted his eyes to mine. He didn’t get up.

The glass tilted in my hand. My smile found its mark.

“Wow,” I said lightly.“You redecorated.”

My Dad’s voice came from somewhere near the decanter.“We will talk now.”

I didn’t look away from Sean. I set the wine on the edge of a table and turned back to my father.

“Then talk.”

The room hummed with a kind of quiet that felt engineered.

The cage was gilded. The locks were not.

And the guard I could not stop thinking about was sitting inside it, like he had always belonged here.

Chapter 21 - The Spy and the Thief

Lily's POV

I stood. Sitting felt too much like surrender. The height gave me nothing, but I kept it anyway, one last illusion of control in a room built to unmake it.

I picked up my wine glass and took a slow sip, letting the burn settle behind my teeth. Then I set it back down on the small table beside me, already aware it might serve better as an anchor than a surface.

My father moved behind his desk, his stride unhurried, each step laced with ownership. When he sat, it was not out of comfort but ceremony. He settled into the chair with the certainty of a man who had never needed to ask twice. His fingers came together, a slow, deliberate steeple that belonged more to ritual than thought.

“Mr. Macon works for me,” he said, smooth as poured oil.“He has for years.”

I let my eyes slide to Sean, then back.“How romantic.”

“When I learned of your situation,” he continued,“I sent him to Highland Park. To keep you safe.”

I laughed. The sound clapped against the books. "You sent him to watch me. And apparently to report back."

My Dad tipped his head.“You attract chaos. I prefer control.”

“And did your control include timing my tears?” I asked.“Counting how many bites of cafeteria rubber I could swallow?”

“I told him to keep you alive long enough to come to your senses,” he said.“He did.”

I turned toward Sean. He met my stare without blinking. Calm.

“Guess I was wrong about you. You lick the same boot I do.”

He didn't respond, but I could tell by the slight shift in his eyebrow that he didn't like my observation.

Good, he can frolick hand in hand with my father and fuck off.

“Lilyth,” my father said. He didn’t raise his voice, but the name alone did the work. It’s the one he saved for contracts, courtrooms, and commands.

“You are home. Your charges are being handled. You will remain here for one month. You will not leave the grounds.”