Page 34 of Vicious Redemption

“Yes, but I owe you one,” I state simply. I still regret letting my temper get the best of me and releasing it on the stunning black dress Tia wore to the charity ball. It’s ruined beyond repair, and while it’s just a dress, I did appreciate the way it hugged Tia and accentuated her curves.

“You don’t owe me anything, Leo,” Tia insists, her voice quiet. From the expression on her face, I know she’s thinking of my father sitting wounded in the hospital. It’s the same troubled guilt she wore when we first entered his room. She’s bearing the responsibility for what her family has done.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her back against my chest and press a kiss to her neck from behind. “I can buy my wife a pretty dress whenever I feel like it. But if you’re going to disagree with me, I could just have you wear nothing at all.”

Tia gasps. “Leo!” she scolds, turning in my arm to smack my shoulder.

I chuckle, leaning in to steal a kiss.

She kisses me back, her body pressing against mine as her fingers comb into my hair. Then, she breaks away to turn toward the rack once more. “What about this one?” she suggests after a moment, pulling out a sunshine yellow silk dress with an open back.

“Definitely,” I agree.

I take it from her, allowing her to keep looking while I pass her selections on to the blonde stylist. Once Tia’s had a chance to search the store, she heads into the dressing room. I settle onto the blush couch that forms a semicircle around the trifold mirror and circular stage for shoppers to stand on and get a look at their outfits.

“Would you like a glass of champagne while you wait?” the blonde offers as Tia gets to work in the changing room.

“Yes, thank you.”

One by one, Tia comes out of the dressing room to show off her possibilities, her smile radiant as she admires the fine options she and the stylist have picked out. It’s a good variety, each showcasing her beauty in different ways—a long-sleeve black velvet bodycon dress that barely reaches midthigh with keyhole cutouts that draw my eyes, a red lace-bodice off-the-shoulder dress with frilly layers of fabric that form a tapered skirt, a nude halter-neck dress with beading that glints and catches the light at the slightest movement.

But the sunshine-yellow silk mermaid-cut dress with a scooping neckline and a two-inch train is by far and away the winner. I nearly spit my champagne when she exits the dressing room in it.

Tia looks absolutely breathtaking. The soft fabric almost glows, its color contrasting beautifully with her dark hair. I can tell she’s without a bra from the way her taut nipples raise the fabric, and my cock throbs at the thought of undressing her at the end of the night.

“I think this is the one,” she says, stepping up onto the pedestal and twirling to reveal the low-cut back. Then she levels me with an excited twinkle in her eyes as she looks for my approval.

“Definitely that one,” I agree.

Finishing off the last of my champagne, I pass the glass to the blonde who’s been helping us and rise to stand behind Tia so I can admire her fully. Before she can turn, I snatch the tag and remove it pointedly.

“This dress looks like it was made for you,” I murmur, finding Tia’s eyes in the mirror as my hands rest on her hips.”

Her cheeks color to a striking shade of rose, and I press a kiss to her temple.

“We’ll need a pair of heels to match,” I say to the sales associate, passing her the dress’s tag.

She nods and departs without a word, returning with a pair of gold heels a moment later.

We leave the store a short time later, Tia’s casual outfit packed in a bag and her new dress sheathing her body. The sun hangs low in the sky, intensifying the golden glow of Tia’s outfit.

“Hungry?” I ask, tossing her bag into the back seat of the car.

“Starved,” she admits, sliding into the passenger side.

“Good.”

I take us to the Sky Lounge, one of the nicest restaurants Piovosa has to offer, with a view that’s to die for. Built on the top floor of the Grand Hotel, its walls are made entirely of glass, offering a 360-degree view of the city below and the mountains that loom in the distance. We ride the elevator up in silence, though anticipation crackles between us.

And Tia’s eyes light up as soon as the doors open to the rooftop lounge. She openly admires the fine dining establishment, her gaze traveling around the room. A pianist sits in front of a baby grand that occupies one corner. White tablecloths decorated with fine china fill the space. And chic, glimmering wishing ball lights are strung from the ceiling like stars to create a romantic, ethereal atmosphere.

“This place is magical,” Tia observes.

“Have you never been here before?”

She shakes her head mutely, continuing to appreciate the view. I’m somewhat surprised, considering how wealthy her family is. This seems like it would be a prime spot for Don Guerra to take his family. Then again, he is notorious for keeping his daughters sequestered away. And my family does frequent the Sky Lounge—which would make it less appealing to someone who so blatantly considers me an enemy.

We stop in front of the host stand, and the host greets us with a polite bow.

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