Page 37 of Impure Vows

"Aliyah," he says, his tone commanding my attention. "Look at me."

I do, and the intensity in his gaze nearly takes my breath away.

"You're mine," he repeats, his voice a low growl. "And I will protect what's mine. Understand?"

I nod, unable to speak. My mind is a mess of fear, anger, and a growing attraction I can't seem to shake. How did I end up here, tangled in the web of a man who should be my enemy?

Dante leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Good girl," he whispers, sending a jolt of heat through my body. "Now get dressed. We have a busy day ahead."

As he releases me and gets out of bed, I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Every moment with Dante is a struggle between what I feel and what I know is right. And as much as I hate to admit it, the line between the two is becoming increasingly blurred.

Later, Dante holds up a sleek, black dress, examining it with a critical eye. "This one," he declares, tossing it onto the bed next to me.

I stare at it, my heart thumping in my chest. "You’re serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" His eyes lock onto mine, daring me to argue.

I sigh, picking up the dress. "I can dress myself; you know."

"Of course you can," he replies, a smirk playing on his lips. "But I enjoy making the choices."

I can't help the roll of my eyes. "You're a control freak."

He steps closer, the scent of his cologne wrapping around me, intoxicating. "And you love it," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

My body betrays me, a shiver running down my spine. "I hate it," I whisper, but even I can hear the lie in my voice.

"Sure you do," he says, his fingers trailing down my arm. "Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes."

I retreat to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The dress is beautiful, elegant, and far too revealing. I slip into it, the silky fabric cool against my skin. I glance in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.

When I step out, Dante’s eyes roam over me, his gaze darkening. "Perfect," he says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Glad you approve," I mutter, crossing my arms.

He strides over, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me against him. "Remember the rules," he says, his lips brushing my temple. "You stay by my side. Always."

"I remember," I say, trying to ignore the way my heart races at his touch.

We arrive at the party, the room filled with dangerous-looking men and women in expensive clothes. Dante keeps me close, his hand never leaving my waist. Beneath my defiance, a thrill runs through me. Being on his arm, the way people look at us—it’s dizzying.

"Relax," Dante whispers in my ear. "You look like a deer caught in headlights."

"Gee, thanks," I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "That helps."

He chuckles, the sound sending a jolt of heat through my body. "Just stick with me," he says, guiding me through the crowd. "You'll be fine."

As we move through the room, I catch snippets of conversation, hushed whispers and stolen glances. Everyone knows who he is. And now, they’re curious about me.

"Dante," a tall, muscular man approaches us, his eyes flicking to me with interest. "Who's this?"

"Aliyah," Dante says, his grip tightening on my waist. "She's with me."

The man nods, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Lucky you," he says, before walking away.

I look up at Dante, my heart pounding. "Why do I feel like a trophy?"

"Because you are," he replies, his eyes dark and possessive.

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