Page 7 of Hateful Vows

FIVE

IRINA

I lost track of my brother half an hour ago, and despite the beauty of the scenery, the delicious food and the warm spring air, my skin tingles with unease. And jealousy. Always jealousy.

“What is she doing here?” I hear someone whisper behind me as I sip on a rich, smooth red wine from the Moretti vineyard.

“I don’t know. Maybe looking for a husband.”

I whirl around, sneering at the disgusting comment, recognising one of the Moretti’s older capos.

Served me right to study the guest list before we arrived.

“Some of us have bloodier dreams than child-rearing for pigs like you. I wonder what Alana would think of your antiquated views. She is, after all, an example of what a female leader can be. Or do you not respect your own don?”

“That’s… I’m…”

I raise a hand. “Save it.”

Red-faced, they both move on to leave me to stew in my own self-pity.

It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing an expensive black silk dress that’s soft to the touch and makes me feel like I’m bathing in liquid gold, that I’ve put on my most exquisite set of diamonds—a gift from Aleksei for my eighteenth birthday—or that my Shalimar perfume turns heads.

I’m still alone. Discarded. Unimportant.

I don’t care about the opinions of people I don’t know, but they confirm what I already know.

I don’t matter. My brother is out doing Gods knows what, either for business or pleasure, and I’m excluded.

“You look like you’re about to kill someone, and I feel like it’s my duty to tell you murder is prohibited on the Moretti grounds or you’d get in trouble,” the man on my right says in a hushed voice that promises mischief. And drips with sex.

When I turn my head to the side, I notice that he’s not even subtle about the way he devours me with his gaze.

Beach-blond hair, tall and muscular, he’s unremarkable but I itch for something, anything that will make me feel like I matter to someone.

Even just for the five-minute quick fuck he’ll provide.

The tag on his chest announces him as security.

I don’t even look at the name; I don’t care.

“I do love trouble, though” I say, my tone sultry.

The man chuckles but doesn’t make a move.

I almost roll my eyes. I don’t have time for small talk and silly seduction.

I take his hand in mine and drag him inside the mansion.

I’m surprised we don’t meet more of his colleagues on our way.

Pushing doors open on the ground floor, I finally find a small office with book cases covering all the walls.

The place is warm and inviting, shielded in darkness.

We enter together and I push the guard against the door, a hand at his throat. His cologne hits my nose and I almost recoil. It’s too strong and gets into my throat. But I need the release.

“There’s only one rule, you don’t kiss me. Nod if you agree.”

He nods and smiles, then reverses our positions.

My back hits the closed door behind me before he’s on me like a ravenous beast. He trails his mouth at my jaw, neck, collarbone.

He finds a sensitive spot just under my ear and I close my eyes, replacing him with the one I truly want.

Goosebumps erupt on my arms, a faint shiver of pleasure spreading through my body. It will have to do.

Strong hands glide against the fabric of my dress, caressing my breasts, my sides, descending to take hold of my ass in a bruising grip. The touch is demanding, eager. It makes me moan, and it spurs him on. That’s what I need. Someone who truly wants me. With urgency and insistence.

The guard lifts me off the floor and I throw my legs around his hips. His hard erection hits my heated core through the fabric that separates us, the friction between us rough and carnal.

Grunts echo in my ears. They sound wrong, but I ignore them.

Fingers knead my ass cheeks then slide under the dress to touch my bare skin.

I hit a hard surface, and open my eyes to take my bearings.

The guard deposited me on the desk in the corner of the room and dropped to his knees.

His callused hands caress my thighs as he replaces them with his lips and travels to the apex.

Anticipation builds at my lower belly as I take in the sight of his kneeling position. Exactly where he needs to be.

A light on the opposite side of the room gets switched on, sending my heart on overdrive. I swallow hard when I take in the man watching us. I’m barely conscious that the one on his knees is removing my underwear as my eyes collide with dark green irises and a smirk I want to bite.

I know exactly who this is.

Dante Ventura.

My family’s number one enemy.

Just as I’m about to stop everything, my plaything licks a delicious path from my entrance to my clit and I throw my head back, immediately bringing my gaze down again to the person watching.

He lifts his whiskey glass to me in a toast, eyebrow raised in challenge. My jaw clenches and I snap my hand to the man on his knees, grasping the roots of his hair and keeping him exactly where I want him. “Just like that,” I breathe loud enough for our audience to hear.

Dante licks his lips and somehow settles deeper into the seat, his eyes never leaving me.

They create a new path of goosebumps, and my nipples peak until they’re as hard as diamonds, pressing against the soft silk of my dress.

I use my free hand to pinch them and gasp, loving the way Dante tracks the movement.

He cocks his head to the side and I take it as an invitation.

I let the straps of the dress drop to the side. The fabric pools at my waist, and I preen under Dante’s darkening gaze, moaning loud when he adjusts the bulge in his expensive suit and bites his full lips.

I affect him. He’s hard for me . Satisfaction tastes like the most succulent fruit.

The man I chose tonight isn’t half bad with his tongue but it’s not his ministrations that sends fire roaring through me.

Hidden in a place I will never set foot in again, with a man I’ll never approach while another is on his knees for my pleasure sends me into a frenzy.

I climb the hills of my orgasm steadily, languorously, savouring how forbidden this is.

My enemy watching me come has me rolling my hips against the man’s mouth and he grunts like he’s loving it, too.

I’m about to finish when Dante opens his fucking mouth, his voice like sin and shadows.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

My play partner startles and falls back on his ass. “Fuck!”

He gets up and turns around, noticing our spectator for the first time. When he looks back at me again and takes the state of my attire, dress bunched around my waist, legs spread and cunt glistening, he hesitates. But men are cowards.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters as he scurries away, leaving me unsatisfied.

And fucking pissed.

I jump up the desk and pull my dress up my body again, bending to retrieve my discarded panties and throw them in my small, silver clutch.

“You people can’t help but ruin everything.”

I’m about to open the door when his massive hand slaps on top of it.

The veins on his thick, bare forearms, shift with his strength.

His heady cologne of lemon and black pepper, made for seduction and vice, assaults my senses and I shiver.

My body angles itself toward him; I don’t have control over it anymore. Not as long as he stays so close.

“I could ruin you , vipera , if you asked nicely.”

With my head held high, looking at him down my nose even though he towers over me, I push him off, a hand on his chest.

“Fuck off, Ventura.” My words are weak, breathy and vulnerable, as I take in the corded muscles under my palm and the way his heart thumps steadily under my fingers.

“For what it’s worth, I would have made you come ten times over with that amount of time between your milky thighs.”

His breath skims over my cheek in a sensual caress. I ignore him, and leave, never looking back but feeling his gaze on me all the way out.