Page 37 of Dark Mafia Vows

And he’s shirtless.

16

DARIO

Leaning against the cool granite countertop in the kitchen, I try to calm the storm inside me. The faint hum of the refrigerator fills the silence as I take a sip of water, the cold liquid barely quenching the heat rising in my chest.

It’s past 10 pm. I stayed at the office longer than I should have, trying to prepare myself for this moment—coming home to meet my new fiancée.

Being under the same roof with Ginny and having to see her every day will be more torture for me than I’d intended it to be for her. The few heated moments we’ve shared in the past haven’t left my memory. How much more now when I can’t avoid her presence?

I don’t want to avoid her presence.

I want to make her squirm. I want her to feel every bit of discomfort that she causes me. I want her to spend her days unable to stop thinking about me and her nights sleeping right beside me, the man she hates the most.

Oh, I take pleasure in seeing her pretty face flush with anger, wishing I could be obliterated from existence.

I thought if I spent more time in the office preparing for this moment, I could control my reactions when she walked into the same space. But now, as she steps into the kitchen, I feel that control slipping away.

I feel Ginny’s presence behind me even before seeing her. I hear the moment she enters the kitchen, her soft footsteps padding along the floor. I know the exact moment she spots me—her sharp intake of breath gives it away. I resist the strong urge to turn, to look at the face of the woman I’m going to marry, the woman who has consumed my every passing thought.

The faint scent of vanilla wafts into the kitchen, wrapping around me like a soft cocoon as she walks past me. I clench my teeth when her arm brushes against me.

And that’s when I see her.

My breath catches in my throat. She looks as if she just stepped out of a steamy shower, her hair slightly damp, droplets glistening as they slide down her neck. The skimpy nightdress she wears clings to her curves in a way that makes it impossible to look away.

My pulse quickens, and I grip the water bottle tighter, trying to maintain my composure. The plastic crumples in my strong hands, the sound echoing in the silence between us.

Warning bells ring in my head as I watch her. It seems like each time I see her, she dresses skimpier than the last, except the day she was found in Esteban’s house. The neckline of her nightgown dips so low that the tops of her cleavage are on display, the sheer lace hem resting just above her nipples. I see the outline of her medium perky tits, and I bite back a groan as they jiggle with each movement she makes.

Completely ignoring my presence, she heads straight for the fridge, her back to me, and pulls out a bottle of water. My eyes zero in on the curve of her ass as she bends, conjuring up dirty images of all the things I want to do to her.

I can’t tear my eyes away, admiring the way her body moves, her nightgown hugging her in all the right places, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s infuriating...and intoxicating.

My throat suddenly feels dry again. I take another large swig out of my bottle, my gaze resting solely on Ginny as she unscrews the cap of her water bottle and mirrors my movement.

She tilts the bottle back, taking a long drink. The way her throat moves, the slight arch of her back as she drinks—it sends a rush of heat through me, straight to my dick. My control wavers, teetering on the edge of snapping.

When she’s done drinking, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, discards the empty bottle, and starts to leave the kitchen.

“I haven’t officially welcomed you to your new home, Ginny,” I say before she exits.

I smirk when she halts in her tracks and turns to look at me. She’s so easy to provoke. I know she’s still fuming about the arrangement, so I’m sure anything related to it will get a rise out of her.

Her eyes come up to meet mine, and I see the anger simmering just beneath the surface. I fold my arms across my chest, and I see something flicker in her eyes as she watches the movement. The look disappears almost immediately, her steely gaze returning.

“I’m sure Rosa has given you a tour,” I continue before she can speak. “Very nice woman, isn’t she? I hope you’re comfortable with the arrangements I’ve made.”

“Comfortable?” she huffs, and fuck, I missed the sound of her voice.

In this short moment, I realize I hate it when she’s not talking to me. I hate it when she ignores my presence.

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, slipping my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. “Although you seem to enjoy making thingsdifficult. I already arranged for us to share the master bedroom, but you decided to move your things to the guest room instead.”

“You’re sicker than I thought if you think I’ll ever sleep in the same bed as you,” she spits, her voice sharp.

I take a step closer to her, my smirk widening. “I’ll remind you of this when you’re finally sleeping on the same bed as me.”

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