Page 45 of Stolen Vows

I loved every second of it.

I’ve never felt so alive.So needed.For the first time since my mother abandoned me, I was the center of someone’s world.Mario had eyes for no one but me.Nothing existed beyond the joining of our bodies.

I thought I chose him out of desperation, but I was lying to myself.

Even when my father told me he was a traitor, I still loved him.That’s why his betrayal hurt so much.

I love him.

Mario Luciano.My husband.My lover.

I’m so fucking screwed.

To my surprise, he scoops me into his arms, sits on the edge of the bed, and settles me on his lap.

“I’m sorry.I don’t know why I’m crying,” I lie into my palms.

“I fucked you silly.You’re allowed to cry.I’d be insulted if you didn’t,” he quips.

An incredulous half-scoff, half-sob breaks from my chest, but his nonchalance only makes me cry harder.

He tightens his arm along my back and tucks my head against his chest.I lean into him and cry until my head feels hollow and arms feel like a million pounds.When I give a pathetic sigh and wipe my tears away, Mario cups my chin and lifts my face to his.

“You know this won’t stop me from fucking you silly again,si?If anything, it makes me want to push you further.Hurt you more.Pleasure you to within an inch of your life,” he says.

“I know,” I reply.

My eyelashes become too heavy, but I force them open after a long blink.

He nods and pulls my ripped neckline down my shoulder.

“You promised,” I mumble.

With my body and mind pushed beyond my endurance, I can only sigh when he slips my arm out of my sleeve.

An eerily animalistic sound of anger rumbles through the room.Adrenaline floods my veins and my eyes pop open.

I follow the direction of Mario’s gaze and stiffen at the dark purple bruises on my arm from Pietro’s attack this morning.

Was it only this morning?It feels like a lifetime ago.So much has changed since then.

“Who hurt you?”

The possessive fury in his eyes drops my stomach into my toes and floods my veins with magma until my answer curdles my stomach and chills my bones.

“Pietro Denaro.”

Mario quirks a brow in disbelief.

“Daddy dearest would never harm his precious little princess,” he scoffs.

His denial hurts.My sharp inhale rings in my ears and leaves me feeling foolish.Anger overrides all else.

I push off his lap and wobble in the high heels before gaining my balance and yanking my other arm out of its sleeve.With fury in every move, I rip the bodice a few more inches down the front and wriggle my hips out of the skirt.

Yards and yards of fabric pool around my feet.I angle my bruised hip toward him.

“Who else besides you and him can get close enough to hurt me likethis?”I argue with a gesture toward the black and blue monstrosity on my hip.