Page 54 of Impure Vows

ALIYAH

Itrail behind Dante, my legs shaky from his obsessive attack on my body. The sticky reminder of his dominance clings to me, an inescapable mark of possession I can’t ignore. He strides through the party with his usual confidence, cutting through the crowd like a shark in water.

Occasionally, he glances back at me, a small smirk tugging at his lips whenever our eyes meet. Those brief moments send a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and something I refuse to name.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the chatter of the room. The words are out before I can stop them, a challenge wrapped in a whisper.

He pauses, turning slightly to face me. “More than you know,” he replies, his tone dripping with a low, possessive satisfaction. His eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, it's like the room fades away, leaving just the two of us in this twisted dance.

I roll my eyes, attempting to mask the rush of conflicting emotions. A thrill courses through me despite my betterjudgment, my heart pounding in response to his unapologetic dominance.

Cynical as it is, there's a part of me that has grown to love being his little pet, a thought that makes me inwardly cringe and smile at the same time. The contradiction is maddening, but I can't deny the exhilaration it brings.

Dante's grip tightens around my hand, the pressure enough to convey a clear message. One of his men, a burly figure in a sharp suit, leans in to whisper something in his ear. I catch a glimpse of a gun holstered under his jacket, a chilling reminder of the danger surrounding me. Dante's eyes flick to me, hard and unyielding, as if daring me to defy him.

"Behave," he commands, his voice low, almost a growl. The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with a threat I can't ignore.

I give him a nod and a tight smile, doing my best to mask the swirling cocktail of fear and defiance inside me. He releases my hand, but not before a final, almost imperceptible squeeze. It's a promise of consequences if I step out of line, a silent warning that sends a shiver down my spine.

My heart pounds as I remind myself to play the part, to not let the terror show in my eyes. The room around me feels like it's closing in, every shadow a potential threat, every face a reminder of the tightrope I'm walking.

With that, he turns and follows his man, leaving me standing alone amidst a sea of opulence and danger. The room buzzes with conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. I’m just another ornament in this gilded cage, expected to blend in and not cause a scene.

I glance around, taking in the lavish surroundings. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the room, reflecting off the polished marble floors. The scent of expensive cologneand perfume mingles with the faint aroma of cigars. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

“Nice dress,” a voice interrupts my thoughts. I turn to see a man with slicked-back hair and a too-perfect smile. His eyes rake over me, lingering a moment too long.

“Thanks,” I reply, forcing a polite smile while suppressing the urge to roll my eyes. His gaze makes my skin crawl, but I know better than to show it. Instead, I tighten my grip on the tray in my hands, hoping he’ll lose interest and move on.

Remembering Dante’s warning, I step away from the man whose eyes have begun mentally undressing me. His gaze lingers like an unwelcome touch, and I suppress a shudder. The party swirls around me, a mix of laughter, clinking glasses, and hushed conversations. I weave through the crowd, making a beeline for a group of women by the bar.

“Excuse me,” I say, sliding into their circle. They look up, eyes assessing, but ultimately welcoming.

One of the women, a blonde in a glittering silver dress, smiles. “Hi there. You look familiar. Have we met?”

“Maybe. I’m Aliyah,” I offer, extending a hand.

“Carla,” she replies, shaking it. “You’re with Dante, right?”

“Yeah,” I nod, trying to keep my tone light. “What gave it away?”

"The way he looks at you," Carla says with a smirk, her eyes glinting with something between amusement and curiosity. "Like he'd kill anyone who got too close. It's intense, almost scary."

I force a laugh, though inside, my heart pounds. "He’s... possessive."

"Possessive?" another woman, a redhead with a sharp gaze, scoffs. "Try obsessed. I’ve seen the way he watches you, like he’s ready to tear apart anyone who even breathes in your direction."

I shift uncomfortably but try to play it off with a casual shrug. “Guess I’m just lucky.”

The women laugh, the sound more understanding than mocking. Carla nudges me with a teasing smile. “So, what’s it like being with the infamous Dante Russo? Come on, spill the details.”

I take a sip of my drink, stalling for time as I gather my thoughts. “Intense,” I say finally, hoping the single word captures the whirlwind of emotions and danger that define my days with Dante. “Never a dull moment.”

The redhead, who introduces herself as Gina, leans in closer, her curiosity palpable. “I heard he’s ruthless. Is that true?”

I meet her gaze, keeping my expression carefully neutral. “You don’t get to be a don by being soft,” I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside me.

The women nod, murmuring in agreement. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, and I breathe a small sigh of relief. I keep an eye out for Dante, scanning the room. He’s nowhere to be found. I don't even see Marco.

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