Page 9 of Sacred Vow

TILLY

“ H oly fucking shit,” I say, gazing up at the huge mansion as Zephyr turns into the driveway.

It’s a sprawling French country-style home with a circular driveway coiling around a beautiful water fountain.

It’s absolutely stunning, and all I can do is gape in shock.

It’s hidden within the hills of LA, only a twenty-minute drive from the college campus, and it’s everything I would love to build for myself one day.

There’s no way this is Zephyr’s house. I mean sure, he’s wearing designer brands, a rolex, and has a luxury sports car, but this house?

There’s no way. He doesn’t strike me as the type to live in a home like this.

I picture him as more of a penthouse kind of guy that has a revolving door for all his conquests to stride in and out on a rotating roster.

“You like it?” Zephyr says, glancing over at me as he makes his way up the long driveway, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hanging out the open window.

“Like it?” I question. “I love it. This is literally insane. Is it really yours?”

“Sure is.”

A laugh bubbles up my throat as he brings the car to a stop at the top of the driveway. “Do you use this place to try and impress women?”

“Of course,” he says with a scoff, as though I should have known better, and honestly, he’s got me there. I should have.

Pushing out of the car, I glance back at the man who just rocked my world and then fed me the best burger I’ve ever eaten. “Does it work?” I ask, meeting his eye over the top of his car.

Zephyr gives me a blank stare. “The fuck? What kind of stupid question is that? Of course it works,” he says. “Girls wanna fuck just as much as guys do, and if they think they’re bagging a rich dude, they’ll fuck even harder. It’s a win-win situation.”

He locks the car and makes his way around to the oversized front door, and I follow his lead. “You don’t feel used?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes, but what does it matter? It’s not as though I’m not using them right back. If they’re eager enough to get on their knees and suck my dick in the hopes of getting paid, then they’re not worth anything to me anyway, so there’s nothing to feel bad about.”

“Wow. I feel so honored to not have been booted out of the bathroom stall.”

Zephyr rolls his eyes and laughs. “You should. There’s only a select handful of women I’ve invited for round two. You’re one of the special ones, Tilly.”

“Oh my god. I hope you have party hats and streamers inside. I expect a party. Let the world know, I’m one of Zephyr’s special ones!”

“First off, it’s just Zeph. And second, I know you’re trying to fuck with me right now, and because you only just met me, you don’t fully understand just how big of a deal it is to make it as one of my special ones.

You’re a top contender, Tilly. And that’s saying a lot because I have extremely high standards.

Consider yourself a sexual deviant,” he tells me.

“Besides, when my hand closed around your throat, I saw something wild in your eyes, and something tells me I haven’t even scratched the surface of that yet.

I wanna find out what makes you scream.”

I scoff as he unlocks the door and waves me in. “To be honest, I’m not sure you can handle it.”

He scoffs right back. “You’ve got no idea, babe.”

“Does babe really have to be a thing?” I ask, walking into the foyer and coming to a standstill to take it all in. “Holy mother of sweet baby Jesus. You know what? Fuck it. You can call me whatever you like.”

Zeph laughs and indicates with a tilt of his head to follow him. “Come on. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

He shows me the whole property. The three living spaces, the upstairs bedrooms, and out to the pool and entertaining areas.

By the time we’re walking back inside, nearly an hour has passed, and the sun is just starting to make its descent.

But one thing is for sure, this house is so much more than I originally thought.

Call me a sucker for interior design and architecture.

If I didn’t go into psychology, that would have been my plan B.

Or C. You know, right after I nailed the art of brazilian waxing.

We make our way into the open living room, and as I make myself comfortable on the oversized couch, Zeph walks over to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?” he asks, already placing two tumblers onto the counter.

“Oh sure. Just a vodka orange with ice,” I say as a weird whirring sounds discreetly through the house. “What’s that noise?”

“What noi—oh shit,” Zeph sighs, a sheepish expression crossing his face. “That’s my dad. I didn’t realize he’d be home so early.”

“Your dad?” I question as a wide smirk stretches across my lips. “And here I was thinking this was your place. You wouldn’t have been a naughty, naughty boy and lied to impress me, would you?”

“I, uhhh . . . I mean, if you want to be technical. I live here, so it’s still my place. My father just . . . maybe is the one who owns it.”

A snorted laugh tears out of me as Zephyr strides back with my drink, and I take a healthy sip before instantly choking on the vodka and making a mental note not to allow Zeph to make me a drink ever again.

This boy likes his drinks strong. I mean, shit.

I don’t think there’s any orange juice in here. Just straight vodka on the rocks.

“Awwwww, how sweet. Are you a little trust fund baby, trying to impress girls with Daddy’s money?”

Zeph grabs a cushion off the couch and launches it at my face, and I do what I can not to spill my drink all over the expensive material. “Shut up.”

I hear the sound of the internal garage door opening before the footfalls of Zeph’s father, and I won’t lie, I’m intrigued to see what his dad is like.

I bet they’re exactly the same. Both tall, probably both handsome.

The only difference would be that Zeph’s father would be a more serious version of his son.

“Zeph? That you?” I hear a deep, hypnotic voice calling through the massive house. “Didn’t realize you were coming home tonight.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Zeph responds just as I turn my head over my shoulder and see the man in question step around the corner and send me into a tailspin.

No. No fucking way.

It couldn’t be.

My gaze sails over his father, taking in his graying thick hair, the stubble across his strong jaw, and the dark, intense eyes—eyes that watched me come apart in the most spectacular way.

It’s him.

The man from Vixen.

The very man who left me with such an intense need to be fucked within an inch of my life that I ended up screwing the first guy who offered in the middle of my psychology class—a guy that just so happens to be his son.

What in the ever-loving fuck? What are the chances?

My heart races in a way it never has before, and all I can do is stare at the man as he strides through his home. His gaze is locked on mine as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and honestly, neither can I.

He recovers a shitload faster than I ever could and tears his gaze away before focusing on his son. “I didn’t realize we had company tonight.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Zeph says. “I thought you’d be out. Tilly and I can head somewhere else.”

“Not at all,” he rumbles, that deep tone sending shockwaves right to the center of my core, reminding me just how intense he was at Vixen.

I squirm on the couch, my thighs clenching together, unable to control the wild need pulsing within my veins.

His dark gaze swings back to me, and I see the silent challenge in his eyes, daring me to push him and take what he knows I really want.

“Who am I to kick a beautiful woman out of my home? What do you say, Tilly? Why don’t you stay for dinner? ”

Shit. I’m not going to survive this.

I swallow hard, trying to push the nerves down.

I’ve never been nervous when it comes to men, but this one in particular has me in a damn chokehold. “I, ummm . . . sorry,” I say, getting to my feet. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

He laughs and the sound nearly sends me over the edge. “Not possible, hellcat.”

Fuck me dead and call me Suzi. Did he just call me hellcat? In front of his son? Holy fucking hell.

My cheeks flame, and I struggle to keep my eyes off him, almost forgetting that Zephyr is even in the room. “If you insist,” I practically purr.

His dark gaze all but eats me up and swallows me whole, and with every second he holds my stare, my knees become weaker, barely capable of holding me up.

“Oh, I insist,” he rumbles, making me desperate to feel how his words would vibrate through his chest. He moves closer, so close I can smell his woodsy cologne, and damn it, why do I suddenly have the urge to lick this man from head to toe?

He holds out his hand to me, and I take it without hesitation, the warmth of his hold sending hot pulses shooting through my body like an electric current. “Caesar Di Rozé,” he rumbles, adding the slightest accent to his name and making goosebumps spread across my skin.

Oh God. Even his name is sexy.

“Tilly Bardot.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tilly,” he murmurs, that rich tone all but sending me to an early grave as his eyes focus so intently on mine that I forget to breathe.

“Oh, believe me,” I say. “The pleasure is all mine.”

A hint of a smile pulls at the corner of his lips when his son’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “What the fuck is happening here?”

Caesar holds on to my hand for a second longer than necessary before finally pulling away with a slight laugh.

His gaze shifts to his son. “Nothing at all, Son,” he says before striding toward the bar and helping himself.

A moment of silence passes as he fixes himself a drink, and after taking a long sip, his gaze shifts back to mine.

“Tell me, Tilly. Has Zephyr here been using my home to impress you?”

A teasing smile pulls across my lips as I glance toward Zephyr. “He’s a red-blooded man. Of course he has.”

“And is it working?”

“No.”