Page 33 of Impure Vows

“That’s up to you,” he says, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “Follow the rules, and she stays safe. Defy me, and she suffers.”

I glare at him, anger and helplessness swirling inside me. “What are these rules?”

“For starters, you’ll stay here. No attempts to escape. You’ll do as I say, when I say it. Understand?”

I nod, feeling the walls close in around me. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face. I flinch at his touch, but he only chuckles. “We’ll get along just fine.”

I bite back a retort, knowing it’s pointless. Instead, I sink back against the headboard, trying to ignore the way my body reacts to his proximity. He’s dangerous, ruthless, but undeniably captivating.

Dante steps back, satisfied. “Get dressed. We have a long day ahead.”

Dante steps into the closet, his back to me, and I take the opportunity to breathe, my mind racing with the implications of my new reality. The sound of hangers sliding along the rod reaches my ears as he picks out an outfit.

"Here," he says, tossing a black dress onto the bed. "Put this on. Underwear's in the drawer. Shoes are in the closet."

I glance at the dress, its silky fabric and designer label screaming wealth and control. "Really? You think I care about designer clothes right now?"

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You'll care when you see how good you look in it."

I roll my eyes, not dignifying that with a response. Instead, I focus on the immediate task of getting away from his penetrating gaze. "Fine. Where's the bathroom?"

He gestures towards a door. "Through there. I’ll be back in a bit. We’ll go over the expectations then."

As soon as he leaves the room, I scramble off the bed, grabbing the dress and perfectly sized lingerie with a scowl, and head to the bathroom. I close the door behind me and lean against it, taking a deep breath. The bathroom is as luxurious as the rest of the suite, with marble countertops and a spacious glass shower. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mingling with the steam from the shower.

I turn on the water, letting it run hot, and strip off my clothes. Stepping under the stream, I let the water cascade over me, washing away the grime and fear of the last few days. The soap and shampoo smell like Dante, and it’s both infuriating and comforting in a twisted way. My fingers find my hair products on the ledge, and I scoff, shaking my head. Of course, he knows what I use. Nothing about this man surprises me anymore.

"Just great," I mutter, working the shampoo into my curls. "A psycho with a knack for personal shopping."

I rinse off, the hot water soothing my tense muscles. I can’t help but wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. Why me? Why now? The questions swirl in my mind, unanswered and maddening. As I finish up and step out of the shower, I wrap myself in a plush towel, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the harsh reality I’m facing.

Drying off, I eye the dress with a mix of resentment and resignation. I slip it on, feeling the expensive material hug my curves. It fits perfectly, of course. The man leaves nothing to chance.

I glance at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back. She looks composed, elegant even, butI know better. Inside, I’m a storm of fear and defiance, determined to survive this nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the bathroom, bracing myself for whatever Dante has planned next.

Dante moves in front of me, eyes scanning my appearance. He steps closer, his hand trailing over the dress’s fabric, smoothing it against my hip. “You’ll be accompanying me to all my meetings and events,” he says, voice low and commanding.

I narrow my eyes, hating the way he makes me feel like a dressed-up doll. “Why? So you can show off your new toy?”

He chuckles, a dark sound that sends shivers down my spine. “You’re not a toy, Aliyah. You’re mine. And you’ll go where I go. Those are the rules.”

My jaw clenches, but I say nothing. He moves to the closet, rummaging through the shoes until he pulls out a pair of black heels. He kneels in front of me, sliding them onto my feet with a precision that’s almost intimate. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my skin tingles at his touch.

“You will not talk unless I give you permission,” he continues, adjusting the strap on the shoe. “And you will keep your eyes down. Understand?”

“Are you serious?” I ask, incredulous. “What am I, a child?”

His eyes flash with amusement as he stands, towering over me. “You’re whatever I say you are. And right now, you’re a woman who needs to learn her fucking place.”

I glare at him, but his grip on my chin is firm, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Defy me, and Sophia pays the price. Remember that.”

The mention of Sophia sends a cold wave of fear through me. I nod, my defiance wavering. “Fine.”

He releases me, satisfied. “Good. Now, let’s go. We have a busy day ahead.”

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