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But…
Bobby is a dangerous bad boy. Player. Womanizer. Heartbreaker. Criminal. Killer. Capo. He will never be happy tied to one woman. He will never love me. He will break my heart.
How am I going to resist him?I want to run my hands through his thick wavy hair. I want to touch him. I want to run my hands over his broad chest. I want to taste his lips. I want to feel his huge hands everywhere on my body. I want to trace his scowling lips with my fingertips. I want to kiss him and feel his tongue on my lips.Stop!
No choice. I must marry him. He will take my innocence. He will not take my heart. He will not take my soul. I will not fall in love with him.
I swallow my first birth control pill.
Bobby
I am in my office sitting behind my massive desk. My secretary texts me. My 1:00 p.m. appointment is here. Nick had set up an appointment with a woman who is a personal stylist to many wealthy women in Chicago.
An exotic looking woman saunters into my office. I stand up. She is tall about 5’8” and very slender. Sleek runner’s body. I love to fuck tall and slender women. She is impeccably dressed in a fitted black designer suit. Legs long and tan. Her very black stiletto heels scream, ‘fuck me’. Jet black hair cut in a bob frames her face. A dark, smokey Italian woman – not a great beauty. I bet she makes up for it in bed. She strolls to my desk. My cock twitches.
“Mr. Vincenzio? Hello, I am Vanessa. Fantastic view! “
She holds out her slender hand.
My corner office has floor to ceiling windows. The view of downtown Chicago is spectacular today.
“Please, Vanessa, my friends call me Bobby.”
I shake her hand. Her hand lingers on mine a little too long. Vanessa is attracted to me. Fantastic! I can always tell when a chick wants to fuck me – it’s a gift.
“What can I do for you Bobby?” She asks with a smile on her face.
She sits on one of the black leather chairs opposite my desk.
“Nick recommended you. He thinks very highly of you. I need your services. I am getting married in a few weeks.”
I hand Vanessa a picture of Gwen - the same 8x10 photo my Father had given me.
Vanessa studies the picture. A slight frown on her face.
“She needs a complete make over. As you can see, she still dresses like a teenager. Gwendolyn Fielding is only 18 years old. I need her to look, well, like a grown woman. A woman fit to be my wife.”
Vanessa slowly slides the photo toward me. She notices my custom-made, iron, natural wood, and glass desk.
“Is this Zachary Fielding’s daughter?”
“Yes. The marriage is to be kept secret from the public for security reasons.”
“I see. Congratulations. She is lovely. How does she feel about this makeover?”
Vanessa raises her thick eyebrows. Eyes deep brown like mine.
“It doesn’t matter how she feels. It only matters what I want.”
I want Vanessa to know I am in charge. What I say goes.
I continue, “I want her to look like a woman in every way. She needs a complete wardrobe. Only designer clothes. She also needs a wedding gown. I want her to have the best of everything, shoes, handbags, bras, panties, negligées, whatever. She will also need resort clothing and swim wear. I am taking her to the Caribbean for four days on a honeymoon. The clothes my wife wears need to be beautiful and tasteful, not slutty. To be blunt, I don’t want her ass or tits hanging out.”
Vanessa pulls out a leather notepad from her black Chanel handbag. She begins to take notes.
“Gwen needs a hair stylist. I like her natural blonde color, but her hair is too long. I want her hair cut to her shoulders. She also needs a make-up artist. Her makeup should be light and natural. Make sure she goes to a spa. She needs a manicure and a pedicure. Her eyebrows should be shaped perfectly. Vanessa, I don’t like body hair on women, she needs to be waxed everywhere.”
“Of course.”
