Page 19 of Vow to Me

Fuck, she’s so goddamn adorable.

My heart squeezes in my chest and my breath stills as her eyes meet mine. Her lips tip up in a shy smile before her eyes dart to the clock on the nightstand.

“Luca, what the hell! It’s ten in the morning, what the fuck are you still doing here?” She blurts with wide eyes and a look of horror, making me chuckle.

She’s right to be shocked, I don’t think I’ve stayed in bed this late in the morning since I was a kid. Christ, I’m normally out of the house by eight most days. I don’t normally see her on the mornings, other than the first morning she was here.

“Dad gave me the day off after everything that happened last night. Don’t worry, I’ve been comfortable right where I am with you clinging to me like a koala,” I say, and she gives me a wide smile that lights up her whole face. She’s so fucking beautiful, that smile alone could bring me to my fucking knees.

“How did it go? You didn’t exactly answer my question when I asked you last night,” she says with a laugh and sits up to peer down at me, naked breasts on display with the blanket pooled around her waist.

I shake my head, avert my eyes from her tits to her face and tell her everything that happened last night, in excruciating detail and not leaving anything out. Most women would be fucking horrified hearing the details of what I did to Novikov, not my wife though. No, Izzy’s sat with a shit eating grin on her face, absolutely enthralled with me detailing the gruesome scene, speaking up to ask questions like she can’t get enough, the little psycho that she is.

After I get up to make Izzy a coffee, because she really isn’t much of a morning person, we lay in bed for another hour, talking about everything and nothing. It’s so fucking easy to talk to her. I normally hate small talk, but with Izzy conversation just flows, and we can just sit in comfortable silence, things never becoming awkward. I’m starting to think we actually have a shot at havinga normal marriage. I also tell Izzy about the gala we’re expected at tomorrow night, and she’s about as thrilled about the evening as I am.

It turns out Izzy didn’t bring much with her, only a few outfits and some personal things she didn’t want to leave at her family’s estate, so we decide to make some lunch before we go shopping to buy her a dress.

After showering—separately, much to my dismay—and getting dressed, we eat lunch before heading to a boutique owned by one of my men’s wives, I called ahead to make sure we could have some privacy, I don’t need anyone other than the staff there ogling my wife. Fuck, if it could just be me and her alone and no staff to interfere, I’d be a very fucking happy man, but unfortunately, I have no fucking idea what she’ll need or want when it comes to shopping, so I’ll just have to deal with sharing her.

Izzy is hot as fuck wearing skintight black denim jeans that showcase her full, round ass and a red sweater that’s tight around her tits. How the simplest of outfits can be such a goddamn turn on, I really don’t fucking know, I’m struggling to keep my attention away from her sexy as fuck body long enough to hold a conversation with her.

We walk into LaRosa, the high-end store that specializes in designer brands and formal wear. The walls are covered in roses, the full place is decorated in different shades of pink, with the walls lined with different gowns, each wall is coordinated by color, Izzy turns to me making screwing her face up and giving me a look of disgust.

“Not good enough for you princess?” I ask, slightly offended by her reaction. She snorts, yes, fuckingsnortsand shakes her head.

“The clothes are fine, but the place is decorated like a fucking florist. Seriously, why are places like this always covered in pink and all the girly shit? It’s making my eyes bleed Luca!” She says dramatically in a hushed whisper and making me belt out a laugh. I shake my head at her, she really isn’t like any woman I’ve ever known.

A sales assistant comes to greet us, eyeing us hungrily as if she knows she’s about to make a hefty commission and guides us to the private dressing room while offering us champagne. I turn to Izzy in question, but she just rolls her eyes at me as if she’s already had enough of the woman and politely declines before telling the assistant what her size and preferences are.

Izzy only tries on three dresses before she’s decided she’s had enough, she decides on the second dress, an emerald, green silk dress that reaches the floor. It fits her curves perfectly and has a slit up one side, showcasing her legs, making me want to reach out and slide my hand up her leg and into her panties. The dress isn’t too low cut, but it still gives a good view of her perky tits, making me think I’m gonna end up causing a blood bath in the middle of the gala if any men think they can look at what belongs to me. She’s a goddamn dream, made with the purpose of driving me fucking wild, my cocks throbbing painfully from just the sight of her.

Fuck, this husband thing is going to be a challenge, she’s too damn sexy for her own good.

I expected this shopping trip to be like those scenes in movies where the man sits in a chair, a high pile of clothes strewn over his lap whole the woman tries on dress after dress while complaining about the color or fit—turns out I couldn’t be anymore wrong.

I can’t believe I was convinced that I was getting a spoilt socialite for a wife, Izzy is the complete opposite from what I expected. If anything, she’s anticipating this event even less than I am, which fucking proves I couldn’t have been more wrong about her.

She’s a psychotic little spitfire that matches my crazy wrapped up in the body of a goddess. She’s half angel, half succubus. She’s fucking mine.

Chapter Eighteen

Izzy

Once we get home from the boutique from Hell, which we ended up being in and out of within twenty minutes, Luca changes and heads down to the gym while I set myself up at the dining table to get some work done. Spending this morning in bed with Luca was surreal, I never thought it possible that we could gel together so well, we talked about our childhoods and what it was like for him growing up with two younger brothers.

When I was younger, I always wanted a little sister, however, in hindsight, it’s probably for the best that I was an only child. It’s better that way, at least my father didn’t have any more siblings for him to force his control over, the way he did with me.

Hearing Luca talk about what he and his brothers got up to when they were younger makes me think about our kids that we’ll have one day.

Obviously, they’ll have to grow up inla Cosa Nostra, but I want to give them the kind of childhood the Romano’s had. I've never really thought about having kids before, it was always just a faraway fact that one day I would have to produce an heir for my father, because that’s the only thing I was good for.

I grew up listening to my father complain about me being a girl. He once called me a selfish little bitch for being born a girl, because of course it was my fault. As if I somehow took control and decided my own fate.

I spend the next hour tracing leads and sending the data to Hurricane about some whispers I found on a site about a shipment of girls coming into New York next month. It makes me feel fucking sick that there’s people out there who will just sell these girls and I’m eternally grateful for the life I’ve lived, even if sometimes I do wish it was different, easier, normal.

I’m just about to get up to stretch my legs when my phone rings on the table. Looking at the caller ID I see that it’s my father calling. I roll my eyes before picking up the phone and answering.

“Hi, Papa,” I say into the speaker.

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