Page 121 of Wounded King
Well, looks like my woman has been busy, I think, amused. I can barely make Alejandro out behind the heaps of bags my men are still carrying into the penthouse.
"Where do you want all this stuff?" Alejandro wants to know.
I'm still tempted to end him for interrupting Violet and me, but seeing all these things, Violet's things, improves my mood.
"Just leave it here," I order. I grab a few of the bags and bring them back into the bedroom, where Violet has once again covered herself with a most stunning dress.
"Did you leave anything in the store, tesoro?" I ask teasingly. My eyes roam over her perfect body. The dress makes her long legs appear like they go on forever.
Heat rushes to her face, "I might have gotten a bit carried away," she says, looking at the bags I carried in. "I can take them ba?—"
I stride to her side and pull her into my arms, realizing she took my words the wrong way. "Do I look like I give a fuck? If my fiancée wants to emptyMaison Étoile, nobody will stop her, least of all me."
Her long eyelashes flutter adorably when she looks up at me. "It's a lot of stuff."
"It's a big closet," I assure her, nudging her under her chin and pressing a kiss to her nose. "Let's see what you got."
"Oh, I got something for you, too."
Amusement flashes through me, followed by something else. Something I can't quite define, but it's an interesting feeling. As hard as I try, I can't remember the last time someone got me something.
"What is it?" My curiosity is more aroused than I care to admit.
"It's kind of silly, but I got you some swim trunks."
"Swim trunks?" I echo. She bought me swim trunks.
"I wasn't sure if you had any, and you said to pack for a beach vacation…" she trails off, looking so fucking insecure, so not like my Violet, and yet so attractive, my dick twitches as if it hadn't been just down her throat.
"They're not Speedos, are they?" I tease, this time ensuring there's a smile curving my lips, so she'll realize I'm teasing.
"Speedos?" She giggles. "No. I didn't buy you Speedos."
"Good, then I will love them. Where are they?" Having grown up in New York must have overwritten my Sicilian roots, because I abhor Speedos.
She looks at the bags I brought in, "Not in those."
I follow her into the living room, where the damn cat is having a hell of a time with a bag carrying the initials: LV. Violet stops dead in her tracks, her eyes grow to the size of saucers as she turns to me, and her hand flies to her lips. "I didn't realize I bought that much stuff."
"Violet, I really don't care as long as you had fun," I reassure her one more time.
Her hand slowly lowers, and her beautiful hazel eyes fill with a mischievous gleam. "I did."
"Good, that's all that matters, now let me see my present."
She looks through the boxes and bags until, with a loud, "Aha!" she pulls a smaller one out, handing it to me.
I remove the crinkly paper, roll it up into a ball, and toss it at Felix's butt that sticks out from the Prada bag. He surprises me when he turns, quite quickly for an animal that fat, pounces on the crinkle ball, and shoots it across the floor, before following it in a dead run.
"Oh, you like him," Violet exclaims, looking so pleased I don't have the heart to tell her that the cat is only still here because of her.
"Like I would an ulcer," I deadpan.
She nudges me in the arm, then nods at the bag, "What do you think?"
I pull out the most atrocious, bright swim trunks the world has ever seen. Overdone with orange and yellow colors and green palm trees, they're perfect for the beach. And loud.
"They're incredible." I'm not lying, they might be the ugliest swim trunks I've ever seen, but they're from her. She thought of me when she picked them out. She bought themforme, which is why I will cherish this horrendous piece of fabric for the rest of my life. "Thank you."
