Misguided Vows (Lethal Vows Book 5)

I jolt awake when I hear knocking on my door. I rub my eyes, searching for my phone, and realize it’s morning. The knocking continues, and I groan because I don’t want to get out of this bed. Last night I had every intention of working on the project after having a nap, but it turns out I passed out cold. This is the comfiest bed I have ever slept on in my life, and when I travel from now on, I only want to stay in these hotels.

Getting up, I yawn and glance down at my wrinkled clothes from the day before. Sighing, I open the door, rubbing my eyes, and when I properly open them, I grimace at the shit-eating smirk Will wears.

He gives me a once-over with a raised eyebrow but says nothing as he draws my attention to the two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Wild night, huh?” He offers me a coffee. “Good morning by the way.”

I yawn again as I take the coffee, step back, and shut the door in his face. He chuckles on the other side of the door. When the coffee hits my lips, I all but moan.

Damn, that tastes good.

“Usually women say thank you,” he calls through the door.

“Go and die,” I shout back as I rub my eyes again. When I say I’m not a morning person, it’s an understatement. Especially with a shit-eating grinning asshole who flares my immaturity so easily. He frustrates me but I can’t also deny the fact that I bite on his every challenge. I want to throttle him as much as I want to play. And I fucking hate the way he’s gotten under my skin. Infuriatingly so.

“But you’d miss me way too much, considering only my hands have been between your legs and not my mouth.” He pauses. “Yet.”

I squint in the direction of the door, because despite my mood, I’m certain even if I ignore him, he won’t go away. As I take another sip, I realize it’s exactly how I like my coffee. And how the fuck did he get my room number?

Pulling the door back open, I find him leaning against the doorframe, still smirking, raising his coffee to his lips.

“How did you know my coffee order and room number?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I just spend all day playing with my cock and thinking of you, remember?” I roll my eyes at his response.

This man is insufferable.

“How about we spend the day together?” he suggests.

“Why would I willingly choose that for myself?” I scoff. It’s flattering to be chased by a man such as Will. But I know this in no way will end well. Even if I have thought about the encounter on the flight more than once. Not that I would ever admit that to this arrogant prick.

“So you don’t feel so detached when I fuck you later on.”

I might not be fully awake yet, but even when alert I can’t believe the confidence this guy boasts. Especially with that ever-present smirk. The one I want to slap off his face. Potentially also fuck off his face. I internally growl; this man is insufferable and I shouldn’t fall for this charm.

“Does that work on other women?”

He shrugs casually. “To be honest, I haven’t really tried it on anyone else. You seem to be a special case.”

I throw my head back and laugh, clutching my coffee.

This man.

When I stop, I wipe the tears from my face.

“Special? Oh, you’re right there. I am special.” I shut the door in his face again. I can hear him chuckle, and I can’t help but feel mixed emotions about him.

Is he hot? Yes.

Is he a serial killer? Possibly.

He said he was a tracker, and I don’t really know what that means, but I don’t want to be intrigued about this man. It’s been years now that I only do sex, and I certainly don’t hang out with men for the day. Especially not when I have a new project to focus on.

I sit down at the edge of my bed and flick through the photos I took of the shop. I wonder if I should call Maria to tell her about her brother and ask her to have him back off. But if I do, could it possibly ruin my chances of getting this job?

He irritates me beyond measure, and that’s because I haven’t decided whether I want to punch him or fuck him.

I’m certain it’s a bit of both.

I take another sip of coffee as my mind starts bubbling with ideas for the space. I reach over to my bag and pull out my tablet. As I flick through different color schemes and palettes, a few ideas start forming.

This is where the magic starts.

The shower can wait for later.