Page 51 of Vengeful Vows

My phone rings, dragging me back to the present. Though my mind and heart are still consumed with thoughts of him, I head for the car.

CHAPTERTWELVE

Bella

The morning beginswith learning we have another high-profile client. Celeste wants the entire team in her office within an hour for a strategy session.

I’m grateful for the urgency because it sharpens me. Forcibly I shove my future husband’s naughty actions and cryptic words to the back of my mind so that I can focus.

The day flies by, and if I hadn’t set a six-p.m. alarm on my smartwatch, I might have been late for dinner.

Before leaving the office, I promise Celeste that I am only a phone call away.

“A date with your fiancé?”

I hate that my personal life interferes with my obligations to our clients, but Celeste doesn’t seem to object. She knows I am a dedicated employee. “Yes. Just dinner. Then I’ll check email, but please promise that if something is urgent, you will call.”

“Have a good evening, Isabella. We’ll handle anything that comes up.”

Antonio is waiting for me at the curb, and thankfully I arrive back at the condo with enough time to freshen up before heading out again.

As always, Marcello is breathtakingly beautiful in his suit and tie. He’s sitting in an armchair sipping a scotch which he puts down the moment I walk through the door. Then he stands to greet me.

His strange words from this morning return momentarily only to melt away as he kisses me with tenderness and promise. Well, the promise of everything except sex, which I crave now more than ever.

Every day, we grow closer, and he continually stokes the fires of my arousal.

I ache with the need for him to take my virginity and make me his forever.

When he finally releases me, he says, “Hurry.”

“I won’t keep you waiting.”

His lips quirk into a smile. “I’m never disappointed when you disobey me.”

A shiver races through me.

I like receiving his punishments as much as he seems to enjoy delivering them.

After resuming his seat, he captures me around the waist and pulls me over his lap, lifting my skirt and working his fingers inside the gusset of my panties. “You didn’t masturbate?” he asks softly, with a hint of menace.

“God, no!”

“Good.” He plays with my clit until I’m frantically kicking my legs, craving an orgasm that looms barely out of reach.

Moments later, he extracts his fingers, making me groan.

Instantly he smooths my skirt back into place. Then he helps me to stand.

I’m breathing furiously as I prop my hands on my hips and demand, “That’s it?” I’m on the edge, both frustrated and annoyed.

“It will have to do until later tonight.”

I grit my teeth.

“Sergio will be outside in twenty minutes.”

Because I’m so consumed by thoughts of Marse, I’m barely ready on time.

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