Page 33 of Jealous Vows

I blink in confusion at Romeo’s single-word declaration.He pulls out in one sudden, smooth, shocking extraction, curses, and stomps away.

Fresh emotions barrel through me.I close my legs and push my skirt down to cover myself.

I thought I wanted him to leave, but now that he’s gone, the silence is too much.He left without an explanation.The disdain on his face after such an intimate, painful experience shrivels my heart.

He returns without a stitch of clothing on his impressive body.Even after the whirlwind of the last few minutes, I can’t peel my eyes off him.I’ve never seen a man fully nude in real life before.

Somehow my soul rejoices over him being the first.

He came back.I swallow a sob.

He drops to a knee, unlocks my ankle, then releases the handcuffs from my wrists before lifting me off the chair.Cradled against his chest, I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

After a few steps, he sits with me on his lap and unzips my dress.Uncertainty wriggles through me, but I’m powerless against his strength anyway, so I let him undress me like the doll he always calls me.

When he rises with us both naked and me held against his chest, apprehension coils through me.As he carries me into the bathroom the rushing of water grows louder, and I yearn to wash the filth from my body.

Romeo steps into the bath and slowly lowers us both into the scorching water.I hiss as the heat hits my sore nether region.

“Don’t put your wrists in the water,” he rumbles.

I nod and interlock my fingers around his neck.He props my heel on the edge of the tub.I rest my forehead against his shoulder and doze as the heat seeps into my body.The steadylubdubof his heart lulls me toward a deep, peaceful sleep.

A sense of belonging wraps around me.With Romeo holding me, the world fades away.

Part of me can’t believe I’m waxing poetic about the man who brutally ravaged me while I was handcuffed to a chair, but the other parts of me tell the naysayer to shush.This is the most wanted I’ve felt since my father stole Valentina’s journal.

Romeo rouses me much too soon.

“C’mon,bambolina.Let’s bandage you up,” he urges.

I huff and shake my head.He rises anyway.I sigh and relax my arms.

After a quick towel dry, he carries me to the bed and pulls out a massive first aid kit.The container isn’t something found in most hotel rooms, so it’s most likely his personal one.

He cleans, dries, and bandages my shoulder, wrists, and ankle with an adeptness that speaks volumes.I study his body more closely and find signs of a hard life.

Amid the tattoos—which he only has on his torso and upper legs—are innumerable scars.Some are thin and straight like the one through his eyebrow, while others are thick and jagged.I don’t want to think of how he got them.

I was forced into the mafia lifestyle by birth.I didn’t choose it.and it hasn’t done me any favors, but I don’t know Romeo’s story other than he’s successful and has a lot of scars.

Naked and on his knees from wrapping my ankle, he takes a pair of exam gloves from the kit.

“Lie back, Sienna.”

My head does a slow whirl.

“No.”

My response sounds nothing like Romeo’s before he walked away, but the notes of denial are unmistakable.

“Yes.I hurt you.Let me—”

“Put those away.Now.”

He follows my gaze down to his hands.

“The gloves?”