Page 41 of Impure Vows

I can already picture the way other men will eye her, their gazes roaming over what's mine. The thought makes my blood boil.

"Change," I snap, my voice colder than I intend it to be.

She freezes, confusion flickering in her expressive brown eyes. "What? You picked this out," she says, her tone sharper than usual.

I narrow my eyes, stepping closer. "I said change," I repeat, my words a command, not a suggestion.

She folds her arms, a defiant spark lighting up her face. "This is ridiculous. You chose this dress, Dante."

I step even closer, my shadow engulfing her. "And now I'm telling you to take it off," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "Do it. Now."

I stride to the walk-in closet and grab a different outfit—a more conservative one. Without breaking eye contact, I thrust it into her hands. "Wear this."

She hesitates, clearly irritated. "Why? What's wrong with the dress I'm wearing?"

My patience thins, my voice tightening. "Because I said so. Do you need another reason?"

Her eyes flash with anger, the defiance still simmering beneath the surface, but she takes the outfit from me. "Fine," she mutters, turning back towards the bathroom.

As she walks away, I watch her every step, my mind racing with a mix of frustration and possessive desire. She doesn't understand the world she's stepped into, the dangers that lurk around every corner. I need her to obey, to trust my judgment, even if she resents it.

The door clicks shut behind her and I let out a heavy breath. The thought of anyone else seeing her like that... it makes my blood boil. She belongs to me, and no one else gets to enjoy her beauty.

The image of other men ogling Aliyah, their greedy eyes tracing every inch of her, ignites a fury inside me. The very thought of them fantasizing about her, wanting to touch her, makes my blood boil. I clench my fists, the knuckles whitening.

I stride over to the window, looking out at the vast expanse of my estate, but all I see is red. No one else gets to look at her that way, no one else gets to imagine what they’d do to her.

I pace the room, trying to calm the irrational jealousy gnawing at me. It's a foreign feeling, one I haven't experienced before Aliyah. She has this way of getting under my skin, making me feel things I thought I was immune to.

I whip around, my voice a low growl, “Aliyah, are you done in there?”

The bathroom door opens again, and she steps out, now dressed in the more modest outfit. It's still elegant, still beautiful, but it doesn't scream for attention the way the first dress did. She looks at me, her eyes a mix of defiance and confusion.

"Happy now?" she asks, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Let's go," I snap and grab her arm, pulling her closer. My lips find her neck, nipping along the soft skin. Aliyah shudders beneath my touch, a mixture of fear and something else flickering in her eyes. Satisfied, I pull away, my possessive grip lingering on her wrist.

We make our way to the meeting with our longtime allies, the Vitale family. As we enter the lavish room, the air thickens with tension. Carlo Vitale stands, his green eyes narrowing as he takes us in.

"Dante," he greets, a sly smile playing on his lips. "And who is this lovely companion?"

I keep my hand firmly on Aliyah's lower back, guiding her forward. "This is Aliyah," I say, my voice cold.

Carlo's gaze lingers on her, and a quiet rage simmers within me. I grip Aliyah tighter, pulling her closer to my side. "Eyes up here, Carlo," I snap, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Carlo chuckles, a dark sound that grates on my nerves. "No need to be so possessive, Dante. Just appreciating beauty where it's due."

"Appreciate it somewhere else," I retort, my eyes locked onto his. I feel Aliyah's tension beside me, her body rigid under Carlo's scrutiny.

"Of course, of course," Carlo says, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Let's get down to business, then."

The meeting proceeds, but I can't shake the burning irritation every time Carlo's gaze strays to Aliyah. My mindraces, planning ways to ensure she remains out of his sight, out of his reach. No one touches what's mine.

Carlo’s gaze lingers on Aliyah longer than I’d like, and my grip tightens around her waist. I pull her closer, making it clear she’s mine. The surge of jealousy courses through me like a wildfire. Aliyah stiffens beside me, sensing my rising tension.

Carlo’s lips curl into a smirk. “Relax, Dante. No need to be so territorial.”

I lean forward, my voice low and deadly. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Carlo. I won’t warn you again.”

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