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I’m trying hard not to stare at Valentino, but he looks incredible tonight.
His t-shirt is made of a very fine knit, and it hugs every single muscle on him. Tattoos peek out of the short sleeves, and his black pants fit his thighs like a glove.
His dark hair shines under the lights, and as he smiles warmly at me and my friend, I realize I’m getting a crush on this man.
That won’t do. I can’t let myself be vulnerable, not after the way my last relationship ended. Something tells me it’s far too dangerous.
Chapter 10
Domenic
The text from Kirill is abrupt.
I ought to be down there now, mingling with the minions, but the dark mood I’ve been in all day has ramped up since I walked in on my father and that bitch he’s marrying, kissing and slobbering all over one another.
This fucking wedding cannot happen. It’s a desecration of my mother’s memory. An abomination, and I’ll do everything I can to stop it.
The thought of Mom has the itching under my skin prickling at me. It always starts this way. An itch, a feeling that my skin is tightening, and then the anxiety comes. The panic. The overwhelming sense of impending doom.
Sweat forms on my temple and I clench and unclench my fists trying to shake it off. I need to fight…or fuck. No one around to do either with though, which presents a problem.
I won’t do it again. Not again. I swore to God to stop.
It’s wrong. Weak.
My father would be horrified, which I don’t give a shit about, but Mom would too, and that I do care about. She’d be hurt, and worried. Upset that she’d let me down somehow if she knew what I did.
I glance at the dresser in the corner, my gaze automatically sliding to the bottom drawer where the box rests.
No, I need a distraction.
The adrenaline the panic causes has my dick half hard, and I think about what Kirill said. Maybe I should go down there and give that bitch some shit, but the mood I’m in, it might end up going too far.
I type the text and send.
Verity, Verity, Verity. The girl is getting herself a bit too obsessed. I haven’t screwed her. She’s the daughter of a family who wants their daughter pristine when she marries. She’s sucked my cock, though.
The thought of her lips wrapped around me doesn’t have the usual effect, but then my mind wanders to Mackenzie and how she might look in that dress. She’s fucking stunning, with that dark blonde hair, the big blue eyes, and long limbs. She’s got this whole innocent thing going on. I haven’t seen a single tattoo or piercing. She’s so pure, and I want to fuck that up. The first moment I laid eyes on her, I wanted her. It’s a problem because I fucking hate her and all her and her whore mother represent.
My dick is fully hard now, and angrily I unzip and grab it. Maybe I can fuck her and fill her with some of my hate. I jerk myself and groan. Yeah, take her from behind, her face pushed up against the wall, and her silver dress hiked up around her waist.
Is she a virgin? At her age and looking like she does, I doubt it. I wonder if she’s into sucking cock. There’s nothing I like more than a girl on her knees for me. It’s such a power trip.
At the thought of her full lips wrapped around my dick, an orgasm races up my spine and I come, hard. I jerk myself through it, and when it’s over I catch my breath, my mind racing. Slowly, I put myself away and let my head fall back.
I hate her.
I want her.
I hate that I want her.
Her mother is unbearable with the way she’s trying to make us all like them. Her simpering smiles make my fist itch to connect with her jaw. The way my father looks at her with a cold admiration makes me want to punch him, too. That’s the way he used to look at my mother. She was his precious jewel. A possession, but an important one, and now another woman will take her place.
