Page 11 of Jealous Vows

Nothing binds two men like betrayal and revenge.He and I are forever entwined.The moment he stole my bride from the altar was the moment he twisted our futures together.

“Did he send you?”she asks.

I slip my hands into my pockets and shrug.

“You could say that,” I lie, except in a warped way, he did.I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Mario stealing my bride.

“Why?”she asks.

I quirk a brow and consider leaning against the nearest rack but don’t want to sully my suit on the dusty clothes.

“Why what?”I prod.

“Why did he send you?”she asks.

I cock my head and lean down until our faces are mere inches apart.

“To make sure his precious niece makes it to his wedding.We wouldn’t want the bride-to-be to go without her maid of honor, would we?”

Her pupils shrink.I lean back to read her posture, expecting her to relax, but she doesn’t.Her reaction makes no sense.

Mario invited her to his wedding.She’s his only beloved niece.

Did I fuck up somehow?Has she realized I’m not her uncle’s friend?

According to my research, my moles spread throughout New York, and the private investigator I hired, there’s no ill will between Sienna and Mario Luciano even though her father betrayed him.The two may not have had direct contact in years, but that’s her father’s fault, not hers, and the invitation to his wedding—for her and only her—made it clear Mario still cherishes her.

Her fear makes no sense, but she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin in resolution.

“You never told me your name,” she challenges.

I smirk.She rolls her eyes—literally rolls her eyes—and changes tactics, “Please tell me your name.”

I reward her with a hungry once-over before responding.

“You can call me Romeo.I’ll call youbambolina.”

The exasperation in her second eye roll tugs my mouth into a full smile.After a double take at my face, her eyes glaze in desire.My cock leaps and heart lurches.She shakes her head and scowls but can’t hide her blush.

“C’mon,bambolina.We’re not going to find what you’re looking for here,” I purr.

She scrunches her brows in confusion.I take the dress from her, toss it over the nearest rack, grab her wrist, and tug her along behind me.After dragging her feet a few steps, she gives in and trails after me.

I shorten my stride when she struggles to keep up.No one dares to interfere as I lead my docile little doll down the sidewalk.She’s where she belongs: in my grasp and under my control.

Her pulse pounds against my fingers and her steps flag, but she doesn’t complain as I continue another block.When I stride onto the crosswalk, she trips stepping off the curb, but I spin and wrap an arm around her as she crashes into me.Her squeak arrows straight to my balls.Liquid fire sears the inside of my shaft, but I grit my teeth and hold back my release by sheer force of will.

She makes another startled noise as I hoist her higher against my side instead of setting her down.I continue across the road before she catches her breath to argue.

Her breasts shift against my ribs, and the juncture of her thighs rubs against my hip with every step, threatening my control, but I step onto the opposite curb and stride to the nearest building for coverage against the crowd before I set her on her feet.Her body sliding down mine wrecks my senses and scrambles my brain.When she wobbles, I hold her upper arms until she regains her balance.

She shrugs my hands off and pushes her hair back.

“Sorry and thanks,” she breathes.

I reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear.

“You’re welcome,bambolina.”