Page 128 of Ruined Vows
I close the distance with slow, deliberate steps, and I feel like I’m stalking her, like the wolf she should have known better than to tease.
When I’m close enough, I reach out—my fingers brushing the barest whisper against her wrist.
She shivers under my touch. I drag her back, gently but firmly, until she’s facing me.
Until there’s nothing between us but the heat and the reckless pounding of my heart, and her eyes lift to mine, wide and searching. And I see the fear, and the want. And in a way, I know she already knows she’s mine, even if the words haven't been spoken.
I cup her jaw with one hand as my thumb softly grazes her cheek.
She leans into it—instinctively, helplessly, and that alone shreds whatever’s left of my restraint.
“Vukan,” she breathes, like a curse and a prayer.
I lean down, close enough to feel her breath against my mouth, close enough to taste her sweetness in the air between us.
“I’m trying to do this right, Princeza,” I rasp, my forehead pressing lightly against hers. “But you’re making it so damn hard.”
She tilts her chin up like a dare. It’s like she wants me to lose control, and that she wouldn’t stop me if I did just that—take her. My hand tightens on her jaw. My other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against me.
And for one wild, reckless second, I almost do it —
I almost crushed my mouth to hers. I nearly take what’s already mine. But instead, I breathe her in. I hold her there and feel her tremble. Now isn’t the time.
Instead, I murmur low against her ear, voice rough and filthy with promises I don’t dare make out loud. “Tomorrow, Princeza. Our next date.”
My voice is the law, and she’s wet for me, even now. Her chest gives away the fact that she’s on edge, the sexual edge. The dance we’ve been dancing has only one outcome. And it ends with her submitting to me.
I let her go because if I hadn’t, I would never have stopped.
And this woman deserves more than a man too far gone to give her a choice.
39
BIANCA
TAILORED FOR TEMPTATION
The car pulls up to a huge building tucked behind skyscrapers. He steps out first, offering his hand. I hesitate for a second before taking it, because something feels… off. Not dangerous, but different.
He leads me through the massive sliding door, and we step into a spacious and cool sitting room. We walk on a marble floor and arrive before a woman who is waiting for us, tall and elegant, dressed in a designer pantsuit, cream colored with matching shoes.
She smiles warmly and nods to Vukan. She keeps it professional and says, “Miss Borrelli. Mr. Petrovic.”
Vukan’s hand tightens slightly around mine. “Bianca, this is Leila Azar. She’s one of the best private designers in Dubai. She’s here for you.”
I blink, confused. “For me?”
Leila inclines her head gracefully. “Mr. Vukan has commissioned a personal collection for you. Tailored. Exclusive.” She smiles with a Cheshire grin.
My heart stutters in my chest. What did he say? You’ve got to be kidding. Again, with the thoughtful gestures, and it’ssomething that doesn’t happen on a minute’s notice. How long has he been planning to woo me?
A whole collection? For me? I can’t imagine what it would cost. I immediately glance up at Vukan, searching his face. He watches me happily, his eyes calm and steady, as I process the news.
“Why?” I breathe.
“Because you deserve it,” he says simply. “Because you’re not a prisoner anymore. You’re not a weapon. You’re a queen. And it’s about damn time the world sees it. Besides, you wouldn’t be you without dressing like a million bucks every day.”
He’s right. Emotion clogs my throat. I look away, blinking hard. He’s paying attention. He knows my tells, he knows when I’m concerned, when I’m tired, and when I’m hiding my feelings from him.
