Page 129 of Ruined Vows
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to accept things just because someone loves me enough to give them.
But he doesn’t pressure me. He just stands there, unshakable, waiting for me to choose.
Slowly, I nod.
Leila’s smile softens. “Come. Let’s find out who you want to be.”
She leads me through double doors into a private showroom — walls lined with gowns, jackets, dresses, suits — every piece is a work of art.
Fabrics I’ve only ever seen in magazines shimmer under soft lights. Silks, velvets, leather stitched so fine it looks liquid. Deep jewel tones. Sleek, deadly cuts—feminine power wrapped in beauty.
It’s me. I trail my fingers over a deep emerald gown, my breath catching at the feel of it.
Leila murmurs, “Try everything. There are no limits, it’s all yours if you want it.”
The first dress I try is deep navy, cut close to the body, flowing like water when I move.
The second is black, with a slit up the thigh so high it makes me blush.
Every time I step out of the dressing room, his eyes rake over me, full of a hunger so raw it makes my knees weak.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to.
I feel his approval in every breath he takes. In the way he shifts uncomfortably in the large wingback chair. I’m sure it’s his hard-on and not a gun that fills his trousers. He stands as I return to Leila.
After the fourth or fifth gown, Leila gestures discreetly toward a rack in the corner. “There’s one he chose himself,” she says softly.
I follow her gaze until it rests on a deep crimson dress that waits there, simple, sleek, and utterly devastating for a man with a discriminating eye. It has a high neckline and long sleeves, but the back plunges scandalously low. It’s daring. It’s a dress I wouldn’t have picked on my own volition, but I love it.
I slip into it, the fabric sliding over my skin like a lover’s touch.
When I step out, the room goes silent.
Vukan stands completely still, his hands curled into fists at his sides; his jaw is so tight it makes jawbreakers look easy. God, his eyes burn into me like he’s seeing the rest of his life in me.
He crosses to me in three strides. His hand skims down my side, reverently and possessively. Desire flickers in his eyes.
“Perfect,” he rasps. His voice is wrecked, barely holding back everything he feels. “You’re perfect.”
I shiver under his touch, tears stinging my eyes again. I’m not perfect. I’m not even close. But with him looking at me like this, I almost believe it. He leans down, his mouth brushing my ear.
“No one will ever touch you but me,” he whispers. “No one will ever deserve to look at you like this but me.”
I turn my head, catching his mouth with mine in a kiss that steals the air from my lungs.
For once, I don’t feel broken. I feelwanted.I feelchosen.
When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against his chest, breathing him in.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for everything.”
He presses a kiss into my hair, fierce and tender.
“Anything for you,Sreco.Always.”
Vukan
She hasn’t said a word since I opened the door.
