Page 44 of His Ruthless Vow

The morning light catches in her eyes, turning them from dark to amber. Her lips part slightly, words forming and dying before they reach the air. There's so much tension between us, so much want that it's practically a living thing in the room.

I hold her gaze, keeping my expression deliberately unreadable. I won't give her the satisfaction of seeing how much I want her to turn around. How much I want her back in my bed. My territory. My life.

Neither of us say a word. We don't need to. The silence speaks volumes, heavy with everything we refuse to voice.

And it's even heavier when she leaves me staring after her.

27

ENZO

Itry to tell myself I'm here because I need to discuss the terms of our arrangement. That my being at her office is strictly business. But it's bullshit, and I know it. I want to see Kendra, plain and simple. Haven't been able to get her out of my head since she walked out of my bedroom three days ago.

The receptionist is too busy on her phone to question my presence as I walk past, my steps silent on the carpeted floor. I know where Kendra's office is—end of the hall, corner space with her name on the door. Executive privilege.

I'm almost there when I catch sight of her through the break room doorway. She's leaning against a counter, coffee mug in hand, dressed in a form-fitting burgundy dress that hugs every curve I spent the night memorizing with my hands. But it's not her outfit that makes my jaw tighten—it's who she's talking to.

Some slick corporate type in a tailored suit, standing too close, looking at her like she's something to be devoured. I watch his eyes drop to her lips when she speaks, the way he leans in, invading her space. The familiar weight of my gun against my ribs is suddenly very present in my mind.

Instead of interrupting, I slip into her office. Let her finish her little flirtation. I want to see what she does when she thinks I'm not watching.

I settle behind her desk like I own the room, leaning back in her chair. The space is immaculate—glass desk perfectly organized, awards and credentials displayed on the wall, everything in its place. Just like Kendra. Always in control.

Minutes later, the door swings open. She walks in, head down as she scrolls through something on her phone. When she finally looks up and sees me, she freezes, one hand instinctively rising to her throat.

"Jesus Christ," she hisses, her composure shattering for just a second before that mask of cool indifference slips back into place. "Do you make a habit of lurking in women's offices, or am I special?"

I don't smile. Don't move from my position behind the desk.

"Who was that?" The question comes out lower, rougher than I intended.

Her eyebrows rise slowly, that sharp intelligence in her eyes picking apart my tone, my rigid stance. Then, unexpectedly, she smiles. Not her professional smile, not even her sarcastic one. This is something more dangerous—a slow curve of those full lips that says she's just discovered something she can use against me.

"That's Alex. Marketing director for our biggest client." She moves further into the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. "Why? Does it matter?"

"He wants to fuck you." I state it like the fact it is.

She laughs, the sound rich and darkly amused as she sets her phone on the desk. "Most men do," she counters, stepping closer to me, the scent of her perfume—something expensive and subtle—filling my senses. "Including you."

My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but firm enough to make my point. "You made a deal with me, Kendra."

"About paying off Griffin's debts," she replies, eyes flashing. "I don't recall sexual exclusivity being part of our arrangement."

She's right, and we both know it. I never specified those terms. Never thought I'd need to. The realization that she could be with someone else while still fulfilling our deal makes something primal and ugly rise in my chest.

"Jealousy looks good on you, Enzo," she murmurs, stepping even closer until she’s between my legs. "Brings out all those alpha mafia tendencies you try so hard to control around me."

Before I can respond, she drops to her knees in front of me, hands sliding up my thighs. The sight of Kendra Washington—proud, fierce Kendra—on her knees should feel like victory. Instead, it feels like she's still the one in control, like I'm the one being conquered.

She maintains eye contact as her fingers work at my belt, deliberately slow. "Is this what you want? Proof that I'm only thinking about you?"

My hand finds her chin, tilting her face up. "I want you to remember who you belong to."

"I don't belong to anyone," she corrects, but her hands are already unzipping my pants, reaching inside my boxer briefs to wrap around my hardening cock. "But I choose you. Right now."

The feel of her warm palm stroking me, the sight of her on her knees with that defiant look still in her eyes—it's almost too much. She works me with precision, like everything else she does, learning what makes my breath catch, what makes my fingers tighten in her hair.

“You look so perfect like this.”

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