Page 27 of Vow of Vengeance

She hasn’t experienced the vibrator mode yet.

“Ready to tour your new home?” I ask.

She tells me she’s as ready as possible, and I can respect that. It’s a significant change, and she’s a brave girl. I know this will be difficult for her, and I’ve tried to make her comfortable.

I know she likes things neat. So, I had the staff stock the kitchen with what I knew to be her favorite foods, place vasesof fresh flowers throughout the home in her favorite color—pink—and deep-clean the already immaculate rooms. Also, we have a Bachman-Tech computer for school, a television with all the streaming services, a brand-new wardrobe, and anything else she may need or want.

I open her car door and lead her up the brick walkway from the Alfa to the open navy-blue front door. The gold emblem of the Villa is stamped on the center of the door, and a V in a delicate font is set in the center of a gilded circle. Warm white light spills over the stoop where my house manager, Gian Conti, awaits us.

When Liam and his brothers first moved to the Villa, Gian was drawn to our world but wasn’t interested in our grueling initiation process—violence, “mafia stuff” (his words), or weapons. He’s a “Bachman friendly,” someone we trust to join our outer circle.

He was born locally and has an olive complexion like the other Italians in our fold. Tall and slim, he’s impeccably dressed in a pinstripe suit and vest with a mint green silk tie. He wears his medium-length silver hair swept back, well-groomed, like his neatly trimmed gray beard.

Instantly, he’s drawn to her. Who wouldn’t be? I trust Gian completely. He’s the only man I’d allow to stay here with her alone during the day when I work. But what about the other men?

Jealousy rises in my gut, green like bile. There are many eligible bachelors, many fish in the sea—or turquoise lake—and closer to her age. Our men will be respectful, but her eyes will wander the grounds.

What if she likes what she sees?

“This must be the lovely Ophelia.” Gian’s genuine, wide white grin spreads over his face, not the tight smile he reserves for polite encounters. “And may I add—your name is almost as beautiful as your striking face.”

Ophelia smiles back. She holds her hand out to shake his. “Hello?—”

“Gian.” He takes her hand, surprising her with a kiss. Of course, she blushes. He speaks with a thick accent. “I’m here to ensure you have whatever you need.”

She surprises me by answering him with an immediate request. “I could use some help studying for my Italian exam.”

Sliding his arm through hers, he guides her into the house. “I’ll show you to your room.”

And just like that, I’m the third wheel, completely unnecessary, unwanted.

My hand slides into my pants pocket for the remote to send a strong vibration through her ass. I desire her full attention. I long to review our rules and remind her of the obedience she promised me. My eager thumb slides over the small silicone remote.

I watch as she and Gian move further into the house. Her ass looks enticing in those jeans, and I picture my plug safely nestled there. I hold my thumb over the button, waiting for the right moment to strike. Once, Gian’s not looking at her face, she will be able to recover quickly enough to hide her reaction from him as the toy vibrates inside her, sending new sensations through her body.

They’ve made it over to the stone fireplace, and I’ve not yet found my opportunity. Then, he tells her he will show her how to operate the gas logs. Here is my perfect moment. I wait for a beat, giving him time to bend down, facing away from her to access the switch—my thumb still hovering.

She says something in her hesitant Italian, and he replies with beautiful words.

Her face breaks into a smile. I hear her laugh.

The sound fills the echo-y space, transforming the entire feel of the home. ‘Til this moment, it’s been a bachelor pad—two boring men, both way older than this girl who lights up the entire room with melodic peals of giggles.

I slip my hand from my pocket.

What she needs right now is a moment of normalcy. Abandoning the toy, I join them by the fireplace and touch her arm, gaining her attention. She tips her chin back, paying me a flicker of attention.

“Gian will take good care of you and get you settled in.” Would she prefer I stay? “Unless you want me to stay,” I add.

“No. Thanks.” She backs away from me like I am someone’s pet snake that still has fangs. She turns back to Gian. “We’ll be fine.”

One minute together, and now they’re a “we?”

I growl, saying, “Gian will draw you a bath before you go to bed.” I eye her ass, letting her know that’s the time she can remove the toy. I raise my brows in question—does she understand?

She gives me a brief nod. “That sounds nice. I can wash away all the stress of the day.” Her eyes cut to mine.

I stand there for a moment, still the third wheel. Their conversation picks back up, Gian asking what time she’d like to be woken, what she thinks she might like for breakfast…

---