Page 27 of Vow to Corrupt You
“We have to buy you new clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my old clothes?” Oh, spare me.
I lean forward, shooting her a sidelong glance, my brow arching at her obliviousness. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Unbelievable,” she mumbles, reaching for the fork and stabbing it into a slice of bacon with so much force.
That’s interesting. I pegged her as someone who sticks to healthy food choices. I rest my chin on my fingers, watching her put the food in her mouth as all kinds of the darkest, most X-rated images continue to pop into my mind.
“Is the food poisoned?” she glances at me as she swallows a bite she’s just taken. “Is that why you’re staring at me like that? Waiting for the poison to start working, so I choke to death?”
A dark, twisted amusement curls my lips. “You will choke,” I murmur, “but not on poison.”
Her cheeks flush to an intense scarlet. She doesn’t respond, just swallows hard, and I can’t prevent the image of my cock thrusting in her throat. She looks away, focusing on her plate. I enjoy this game. The way she tries to defy me with her sassy retorts. But deep down, I know she’s scared, and that fear is intoxicating.
After breakfast, we drive to an exclusive boutique, the kind that caters to the wealthy and powerful. The salesperson greets us courteously. She knows who I am and what I’m capable of, and she knows I’ll leave a fortune here.
“What can I help you with today, Mr. Romano?” she smiles.
“Her entire wardrobe needs an upgrade,” I state.
Serena’s eyes widen as she glances at the price tags. She looks at me, and I see the shock in her gaze. The cheapest piece of fabric in this store probably costs more than a small car. She nods and assures me she’ll take care of everything.
For the next few hours, Serena tries on outfit after outfit. I sit back in a plush velvet armchair near the entrance where Remo stands by, making sure no one comes in.
Finally, the sales lady tallies, “€296000.”
“That’s a nice start,” I tap the card near the payment terminal.
“Wh… Start?” she stutters.
The salesperson passes the credit authorization across the counter for me to sign.
“I thought women liked shopping.” I sign the paper.
“Yeah,” she says, her shyness giving way to her sarcastic side, hidden beneath her reserved exterior. “We do. When we can choose what we like ourselves.”
“You don’t like the clothes we picked out together?”
Her eyes roll, and she huffs as we head out of the boutique. Remo carries the bags a few steps behind us.
“You chose them. They’re all black, Nikos.”
Something in me ignites at the way my name rolls off her tongue. It’s as if it was made to be spoken by her. Now, I can’t bear the thought of her saying any other man’s name out loud. I don’t want them to hear their names from her lips, to feel the way I do now.
“Black is the only color I accept,” I reply, my tone firm with a hint of mockery.
She raises an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth twitches, and for a split second, I think I see a genuine smile. “No way.”
I chuckle, a low, throaty sound.
We exit the store. The car is already waiting by the entrance.
“Where are we going now?” she glances at me as I open the door for her. Remo loads the bags into the trunk. The grimace on his face tells me it’s not one of his favorite tasks.
“Now we’re going to pick out a dress for you for the evening. We have an important meeting to attend.”
Her dress slides up as she slips into the back seat, her right leg still lingering outside. The curve of her calf is impossible to ignore.
