Page 21 of Bound Vows
Alexei nods and heads for the door, then pauses. “There’s one more thing. Torrino’s restaurant caught fire an hour ago. Kitchen explosion, supposedly. No injuries, but the building is a total loss.”
Maya’s head snaps toward me, and her eyes blaze with something between horror and fascination. Underneath both emotions, I catch something else—arousal at the demonstration of my power.
“How unfortunate,” I reply without looking away from her. “I hope he had adequate insurance coverage.”
After Alexei leaves, the sexual tension that was interrupted floods back. Maya and I regard each other across the suddenly quiet office. The evening light filtering through the windows sends shadows across her face, highlighting the beauty mark below her left eye.
The danger of the situation seems to heighten everything between us—the way she's breathing, the flush creeping up her throat, the way my body responds to her being so close.
“You had his restaurant burned down.” Maya’s voice is breathless rather than accusatory.
“I had nothing to do with kitchen accidents caused by faulty gas lines.”
“While he was here, trying to negotiate reduced payments.” She doesn't back away as I stand and move toward her.
“Remarkable timing, isn’t it? Almost like the universe is sending a message about the importance of honoring business agreements.” I'm close enough now to see her pupils dilate.
Maya walks to my desk and places both hands flat on its surface, then leans forward until we’re separated by mere inches. The position pushes her breasts together, creating cleavage that makes my mouth water.
“You destroyed a man’s livelihood to make a point.”
“I demonstrated the consequences of attempting to renegotiate established contracts.” I lean back in my chair, maintaining eye contact while refusing to be intimidated by her proximity. “Mr. Torrino will rebuild, and when he does, I guarantee his monthly contributions will arrive promptly. Much like how yesterday's lesson in the gym seems to have... clarified certain things between us.”
“And if he can’t rebuild? If he loses everything?” She's breathing harder now, and I can see her pulse fluttering in her throat.
“Then he serves as an excellent example to others who might question the value of our services.” I reach out and trace one finger along the edge of the desk, close enough to her hand that she can feel the heat from my skin.
Maya straightens, and something in her expression changes from condemnation toward what might be grudging respect.
“You’re ruthless.”
“I’m practical. Ruthlessness implies emotional motivation. This is simply business.”
“Business that involves burning down restaurants.”
“Business that requires clear communication about expectations and consequences.” I stand and move around the desk until we’re facing each other without barriers between us, and I can smell her arousal. I reach up and trace the line of her jawwith one finger, noting how she leans into the touch. “You disapprove.”
“I understand the necessity, even if I don’t approve of the methods.” But her body language contradicts her words; she's leaning closer, her lips parting slightly.
My thumb brushes across her lower lip, and she makes a small sound that goes straight to my cock. “Approval’s easy to fake. Understanding takes guts.”
“Is this what you wanted me to see? Your leadership style in action?”
“I wanted you to understand the scope of what we’re building together. The responsibilities that come with the position you’ll occupy as my wife.” I step even closer, until our bodies are almost touching.
She scoffs and says, “As your enforcer, you mean.”
I let my hand slide down to rest at the base of her throat, feeling her rapid pulse beneath my palm. “As my partner. Enforcement is only one aspect of what that partnership entails.”
Maya circles me, and I let her complete her inspection without turning to follow her movement. When she finally stops, she’s standing directly behind me, close enough that I can feel her breath on my neck.
“My brother is hunting you with five million dollars and a small army,” she whispers close to my ear. “Are you concerned?”
The feel of her breath against my skin makes me want to spin around and pin her against the nearest wall. “Should I be?”
“Max is very good at what he does. And now, he’s highly motivated.” Her hand comes to rest on my shoulder, and the touch burns through my shirt.
“So am I, Piccola.” I turn slowly until we're face-to-face again, trapped between her body and the desk. "The question is whether his motivation will outlast mine." I lean down until my lips are barely an inch from hers. "Or whether you'll discover that some kinds of captivity are more pleasurable than others."
