Page 67 of Heartless Vows

Fiero raps on the window.

I shove a new piece of minty freshness into my mouth. Giorgio’s pointed glance at my lips robs me of my thoughts. He plans to steal this piece, too.

When he wraps his long fingers around my thigh and demands I wait for him, my bra chafes my hard nipples and my damp panties cling to my sex.

I wait in a daze as he walks around the vehicle and opens my door for me, but when I realize we stand in front of a boutique dress shop, skepticism runs down my spine.

If it were a bridal store, I’d say hell no and stomp in the opposite direction, but the window displays a mix of colorful summer and fall outfits, so I don’t balk.

Giorgio leads me inside and demands I try on at least five outfits before choosing my favorite. I walk around the store and choose exactly five dresses, because I’m sure as hell not trying on more.

My mother buys my clothes online and sends me to a tailor to ensure they fit. I don’t care about fashion and never have, except for the one time she made me wear the ugliest, frilliest dress to a wedding.

The wedding where I passed out after pulling Tristan away from Giorgio.

After the attendant hangs my choices up in the dressing room, I thank her and slip inside.

Giorgio follows and snaps the curtain closed behind him.

“What are you doing? Get out,” I half-whisper, half-hiss.

He backs me up against the mirror and leans down, but I turn my head at the last second and clamp my teeth together.

He won’t fool me. I’m not done with my gum. He can’t steal it yet. Plus, now that I’m on my own feet for the first time in what feels like millennia, I realize how sore and swollen I am from his claiming.

He pulls my hair and growls against my temple.

“I’m sore. Like, really sore,” I admit.

With a frustrated groan, he presses his forehead to mine and strokes my hair back with both hands while reluctantly pulling his hips away from mine.

“You just want to torture me, don’t you,mia topolina?”

I pull my lower lip into my mouth to hide its trembling and shrug. I want him. I really, really do.

But I don’t think I’d survive another round of sex today without serious injury.

He yanks himself away with a curse and sits on the padded bench before spreading his knees and leaning back on the wall.

In jeans and a black t-shirt, with his arm and neck tattoos on display, he’s incredibly dangerous to my health.

Maybe I don’t need to walk ever again. He’d carry me around everywhere if he broke me, right?

I turn around and reach for the first dress before I cause my own ruin. Gluttony has never been an issue for me before, but I’ve also never been alone in a dressing room with Giorgio Vivaldi after losing my virginity to him before.

Careful to avoid my reflection and his eyes, I remove the dress I took from Giorgio’s closet—which still had tags on it—and try on the first outfit.

It fits me well, but I didn’t realize it had weird tassel thingies on the built-in belt, so I scrunch my nose and reach for the zipper to take it off, but Giorgio’s masculine rumble stops me.

“Spin around first. Let me enjoy you,” he says.

I take a steadying breath and humor him with a slow turn around.

“What don’t you like about it?” he asks.

I pull the tassels away from my body and grimace. He chuckles and gestures for me to try the next one.

I catch his eyes in the mirror as I rise from taking off theno, thanks, dress. Lava swirls in my veins. My chest tightens.

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