Page 34 of Heartless Vows

Despite me insisting I can feed myself, he ferries food to my mouth, sometimes pinched between his fingers and other times on a utensil. Too befuddled and wary of making a scene, I don’t balk even when he brushes crumbs off my lips with his thumb, and I fumble to comply when he suggests I place the papers on the table.

We skim through the legal jargon as we eat, but most of the terms seem rote, so nothing jumps off the pages at us.

When he orders dessert, I send him an exasperated glance before blocking his next attempt to feed me.

“I’m done. My stomach is going to explode, so stop trying to cram more food down my throat,” I demand.

His chuckle sends shivers down my spine.

“I’m not cramming anything down your throat. Not yet, anyway.”

My heart quickens, and I fight against the urge to wriggle in my seat as my clit pulses. I shake my head, push his hand away, and pick up my drink as an excuse to put distance between us.

After a few minutes of silence, he picks up the stack from my mother and leans so close I have no choice but to hold his stare.

“What doyouwant from our prenup, Aurora?”

I swallow and set down my glass as I gather my thoughts.

“I want your assets to remain yours and my assets to remain mine, no matter what happens.”

“Even if I knock you up and leave you, you wouldn’t want any of my money or power?”

The intensity in his eyes terrifies me, but I answer as honestly as possible without revealing too much.

“I’m not afraid of raising a child on my own, but raising a child on my own while losing everything I’ve built for myself? Terrifying.”

I don’t shy away as he studies me.

“What have you built for yourself,mia topolina?”

When my initial fury fades away, I realize he isn’t mocking me. The curiosity in his bottomless brown orbs tempt me to reveal everything, but I stop myself before I ruin everything.

“I have a few bank accounts my parents don’t know about.”

It’s the truth. Mostly.

“And how do you have that?”

I shrug and play with the condensation on my glass.

“Raised on a computer, remember?”

After an unnerving amount of time, he accepts my answer with a nod. The waitress brings dessert. I try to resist, but after avoiding sweets for most of my life, I’m powerless against the warm chocolate cake and creamy ice cream combo as he sneaks it into my mouth.

I haven’t eaten so much in years. As I fight against slipping into a food coma, he pays the bill, leads me into the elevator, andintroduces me to his lawyer before settling me onto the couch in her office. When he sits beside me, the cushion dips, but I scoot toward the armrest and sit ramrod straight.

I try to stay alert, I really do, but when the lawyer proves friendly yet clearly professional and uninterested in Giorgio as anything other than a client, my attention wanes. They go over what our parents included in their drafts, only to discard most of it and begin altering a basic template to meet our terms.

The comfortable couch, my full belly, last night’s trip to nightmarelandia, and Giorgio’s rich voice all work against me. I slip into a doze. When muscular arms wrap around me and pull me against a hard body, I snuggle closer, needing more of his delicious scent and enticing warmth.

I jerk awake and frantically wipe at my mouth, terrified of a repeat performance in the drool department. Thankfully, my chin proves dry, so I swallow my embarrassment and focus on the lawyer. She hands me a few pieces of paper.

All the air leaves my lungs as I read through them. My hands shake the more I read. Disbelief spears through me.

He can’t mean this.

But his initials and signature are already dry on the document.

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