Page 88 of Venomous Vows

It’s the first time she’s done that.

That my presence is known, and that navigates my own orgasm to break apart around me as I spill every ounce of cum inside her.

Mine.

It’s all my brain will keep making sure is permanent and loud in my head.

Elena Rossi is the love of my life. She has to be.

Because no one compares to what she means to me.

27

ELENA

I openup the beautifully wrapped box with shaky hands. A gold bow sits perfectly on top of it, crisp white paper encases around the edges, and today is the day.

I’m marrying Adrian Bernardi and I’m a mess.

The idea of pulling a runaway bride has entered my mind in the last forty-eight hours. I could get the hell out of here, hide in a hole for a few weeks, and hope that Adrian just gives up looking for me.

It’s a pipedream.

If I know the man like I do, he’ll never give up anything. It’s not in his blood, never been in his DNA, and pride is the one thing that keeps that man alive, not oxygen.

I’ve come to grips that my life was supposed to roll this way. I’m not sure why, but I’m not entirely trapped here. If I need out, it’s called hiring a divorce attorney and Adrian can only go so far as to keep me as a so-called prisoner in his house.

Nonetheless, it hasn’t felt that way.

Breakfast in the morning has been full of conversation and those same kisses on my forehead, mixed with crooks to my chin so he can take my lips and dive his tongue between them. Adriantexts me around lunch to ask how my day is, if I’d like to go to dinner or spend a quiet evening in, and then he crawls into my bedroom and spoons me like it’s something he’s always done before.

The fight has officially left.

It only took two sentences to make it flee. Words I never imagined Adrian ever saying in his life because I didn’t think the man was capable.

Or maybe it sounds like I love you, Elena. Ever think of that?

I’ve battled with its meaning. I’ve dissected and pried it open. I can’t come up with a reason on why he’d bullshit me on something like this. Not once have I ever mentioned love, and he knows damn well, it wouldn’t change my mind about things.

Or maybe it has.

I am sitting in a wedding dress with my hair all styled, makeup completed, and ready to walk down the aisle to become the man’s wife. Not once since that night at the club have I argued with him about getting married, kicked him out of my bed, or told him to stop bothering me at work.

It’s like a revised version of us. You wouldn’t recognize it. The dialogue of it is even foreign to me because this is the longest he and I have ever gone without wanting to kill each other, but it’s been nice.

Perfect even.

Though, I’d never mention it out loud.

“Are you gonna open it, Elena?” Marcella presses with a chuckle. “Or are you going to stare at it for the next hour?”

Rolling my eyes with a smirk, I slowly tear at the wrapping paper and pop the box open. Inside is a card and a small piece of a map that’s in the shape of a heart. I glance at the card and my heart seizes in my chest at the words handwritten on it.

This is the place I fell in love with you for the first time. I will always be your protector,piccola diavola. And now, I have the honor of calling you my wife.

I’ll be impatiently waiting for you down the aisle.

Forever yours,

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