Page 32 of The Den of Sin
He was mad! So was I apparently because, despite everything, I did want him to fuck me. Five years ago he consumed me alive, in every sense of the word. Damn this man, I wanted to be consumed alive like that night.
Seeing a fleeting look of shock on his face, I turned my back to him and left him without a backwards glance. All the while, I fought the urge to turn around and run to him, beg him to touch me, and burn me with his touch.
God help me, I needed to find some self-respect because I was so damn tempted to say yes to Vasili Nikolaev. The fucking devil that kept tempting me with his sinful words. Because he was right. My bodydidwant him. I just couldn't let him have it. After everything he’d done, he didn’t deserve to haveme.
Chapter Eleven
Vasili
Fucking Ryan Johnson.
He had to play a knight and try to take what’s mine. I was half tempted to go after him and beat the living shit out of him. But Isabella would know it was me.
All he had to do was take the money and fuck other women. It was fucking simple, but he had to fuck that up too. He thought he was smart to come for Isabella. Wrong,dude! So fucking wrong! She was mine.
The second Adrian’s message alerted me to his visit, I left my business meeting halfway through it and drove like a maniac here. Seeing them sitting on the tailgate, like a damn romantic infomercial, I lost my shit.
I knew Ryan was the only thing keeping Isabella in Los Angeles. So the bastard that I was, I got rid of him.
Did it make me a cruel, sick motherfucker?
Yes, but I’d be damned watching her settle for him all the while he fucked any willing skirt during his tours. She knew it too. I knew her spending habits, her routine, everything. It was the reason she still insisted on condoms even after dating him for two long years.
Isabella might be unwilling to admit it, but she still wanted me. The way her body flushed, her eyes shone, or hazed with lust. I threw it away five years ago, but I was wrong. Now, I refused to letherthrow it away. I bowed down to nobody, begged nobody but her… fuck it, I’d beg and kill for her.
Truth of the matter was, I fucked up five years ago. I blindly trusted my mother’s words, never doubting she’d be so shallow to resort to lying with her last dying breath.
Now that the Santos family knew about her existence, Isabella was safest with me. She belonged to me. And I wouldn’t let anyone else have her. She was mine to protect and cherish.
Chapter Twelve
Isabella
Vasili’s words played in my mind over and over again.I want you in my bed. I want to taste you.
If only his words repulsed me. If only I didn’t want him too. What was wrong with me? Where was my self-respect and dignity? The man used me as his own sick revenge and then discarded me like a piece of trash. And I still craved his touch, his smell, his filthy words.
My thoughts got interrupted when Tatiana ran into my room handing me another dress. We have been at this for the past hour. I would have much rather worn comfortable yoga pants and lounged around the house than go out.
I raised the dress in front of me and my eyes just bulged out of my head.
“Oh my gosh! I can’t wear that!” I exclaimed at her.
“Isabella, you have a killer body. Use it!” She shoved the dress at me, demanding without any additional words that I try it. She waited with a raised eyebrow, daring me to say anything.
“Use it for what?” I muttered but took the dress. I stripped down to my underwear and bra, then squeezed into the tiny little red dress. “Being mistaken for a prostitute?” I said with discomfort.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled the little scrap of red sparkling material on.
“Whoa! You look fucking amazing!” She whistled as she spun me around. I caught my reflection in the full-size mirror and couldn’t believe the woman staring back at me. The sparkling, shimmery dress hugged my curves in all the right places, accentuating my body. It contrasted my dark hair, and my slim legs seemed longer in it. Probably because there was so little of my legs covered.
“You will take any man’s breath away,” she announced. “Here, combine it with these shoes.”
She handed me a pair of simple, elegant, and outrageously expensive Christian Louboutin nude pump heels.
“Hmmm, they are surprisingly comfortable.”
