Page 50 of Heartless Vows

“What are you—?”

Fireworks burst in my skull as he seals his mouth over my entire sex. Even with my panties muffling the sensation, I gasp and mindlessly tug his hair as he licks and nips me through the fabric.

Pressure builds in my core. I whine when he pulls away.

He scoops me up and drops me onto my bed. My grunt of surprise morphs to a moan as his mouth closes over my left breast. His weight pins my lower half to the bed, otherwise I’d jackknife onto the floor when he pinches my nipple between his teeth.

It stings even with my dress and bra between us.

He lifts his head.

“Pull my hair harder,mia topolina. Make it hurt. I deserve it for what I’m about to do to you.”

I tug his hair and writhe as he frames my breasts with his gigantic hands, highlighting our size differences.

He closes his mouth over my right breast.

Mio Dio, I never knew my nipples could be so sensitive.

He disappears. I blink up at my ceiling in confusion. My entire body throbs with need. It hurts. I don’t like it.

“Stay in here until your brother comes home. I’ll text you when I get to the car. Show it to your mother if she gives you trouble. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.Capisci?”

He leaves the room without waiting for an answer. I stare blindly at the ceiling for long, unending moments, not moving even when my phone chimes in my purse, until the worst of my frustration passes.

After responding to Giorgio’s text, I drop my phone on the bed and drag myself into the shower. When I meet my eyes in the mirror, my heart lurches.

My eyes shine brighter than ever before. Faint bruises form on my neck, but Giorgio’s teeth marks still ring the dark purple bruise on my shoulder. I shiver and wipe away my tears, not even sure why I feel the need to cry, and slather on makeup.

When I step into the hall, silence drifts up the stairs, so I wait in the foyer until the SUV pulls up.

Tristan’s animated retelling of the day soothes my aching heart, but by the time I say goodnight to him, I realize my brother can’t stop the slow bleeding caused by Giorgio’s infiltration.

I take my medicine from my purse, settle at my desk, and open the college coursework my mother expects to see on my screen before staring blankly at the wall.

The door opens. My mother’s icy gaze wipes away whatever lust lingers from Giorgio’s visit. She watches me swallow my handful of pills before locking the door without a word.

I slump. Breathe in. Breathe out. Straighten my spine. Roll my neck. Crack my knuckles. Then dive in to catch up on what I missed last night.

First thing on my list: send an anonymous tip to Nico. Serenity’s tablet didn’t malfunction; someone hid malware in a look-alike app, and they would have gotten away with it if she hadn’t had automatic updates permitted. I flushed the device and added some code to increase her security and prevent the hackers from obtaining whatever information they hoped to glean.

I continue down my mental list, checking my parents’ devices, looking into the people I met and the names I learned today, completing a handful of jobs, and finishing a few assignments before sitting back in my chair and sighing.

As I start a deep dive into Giorgio’s assets, my mouth dries. All the funds I’ve stashed away over the years seem puny compared to his wealth. I don’t understand why he gave me everything in the prenuptial agreement, but I don’t want it. Even though his businesses and properties seem surprisingly clean, they’re still mafia adjacent.

None of my efforts matter if I can’t protect Tristan from my fucked up family. All those years of studying and working mean nothing if I can’t get him out of my parents’ clutches.

As I run through potential options—tossing most of them in the trash heap before they even form—I fiddle with my mouse.

When a semi-decent idea pops into the forefront of my mind, I focus my eyes only to freeze when I realize what I absently pulled up while brainstorming.

Many, many years ago, I collected DNA samples from everyone in my family and sent them for tests.

My brother’s results sit on the left side of the screen. Otello Tempe’s show on the left.

They’re a match. The 99.9 on the paternity test bores into my brain.

I exit out of both screens with shaky fingers and delete my history.

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