SHATTERED VOWS: An Arrange Marriage

CHAPTER 11: MORINA

The low hum of the motor almost lulled me back to sleep. Until the night’s events flashed through my mind like a bad movie.

“Fuck.” Eyes wide, I jumped up.

The man’s big arm fell off my waist from my forward momentum. He’d been cuddling me? Oh my God.

This wasn’t just a bad movie. It was a trash one. Complete and utter garbage. I scooted off the bed and grabbed my top off the floor of the jet.

The jet! “Morina, you really f****d up this time,” I grumbled, scrabbling around the room completely naked looking for my bra.

It was red. Of all the colors, how could I not find a red bra? It had been a spur-of-the-moment addition to my outfit last night.

I didn’t fluff things, and I didn’t dress for clubs, but I’d prepared for some extra fun after my horoscope said something along the lines of “pleasure awaits you and then death.” The horoscope had been right about that.

The aftermath I’d thought was my grandmother’s. I’d spiraled. Completely willing to follow my self-destructive pain off the cliff that was Bastian Armanelli last night.

Yet, I’m pretty sure this was the death of my self-respect. I’d jumped on a jet with a questionable guy to get f****d into oblivion. I had to admit, he’d done it.

My daddy fetish was probably at an all-time high right now. The way he’d commanded the room and taken everything he wanted from me but still managed to make me feel good.

The man had known what I wanted more than I had. Still, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t hanging out with him again. This was not a happily ever after waiting to happen. This was a shitshow and a half. The walk of shame of the century.

A flight of shame. As I shoved my boobs back into the dumb lingerie that should have fit much better than it did, his sleep-laced, gravelly voice sounded from behind me.

“You’re scrambling to get ready like we don’t have to fly at least half an hour back to the airport.” I froze, trying to calibrate everything he was saying.

I wasn’t a morning person, especially after more than a few good rounds of f*****g someone during the night and early morning.

“s**t!” I grabbed my panties and wriggled into them, then raced to the front of the jet before Bastian could stop me.

Finding the pilot lounging at the front of the control area, I blurted, “Can you get us back to the airport in thirty? I have to get home. I think Chet’s sending a limo for us. I need to get an Uber back to the hotel.” He almost fell out of his seat when he turned and saw me in underwear.

His wide eyes popped up but within a second they’d flicked back down as Bastian appeared with a sheet and wrapped it around my body.

“Get us back soon, huh?” he said before turning me around and pushing me back toward the jet’s private room.

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the sheet, I guess.”

“Better to not scare my pilot,” he murmured, his voice calm, calculating.

Almost accommodating. This Bastian was nothing like the one last night who’d ordered me to bend over.

“I have to meet Linny back at the hotel,” I explained.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Well …” I hesitated and glanced out a window.

“No, but it feels like it’s late.”

“It feels, Morina?” He chuckled as we re-entered the private suite.

“Yes.” I pulled the sheet tighter, thankful to be covered while I took time to locate my pants.

I didn’t need to though. They were folded on the bed where they hadn’t been a minute ago. I slid my pants and crop top on.

“Well, what time is it?” He glanced at his gold watch.

“It’s 8 a.m.” I hummed.

“Okay, my checkout is at eleven. So, we’ll be fine.”

“I could have driven you home,” he said, almost to himself.

“God, no,” I blurted out. Rude. I winced.

“I mean, it’s just, I … this was fun.”

“Fun?” He chuckled and lifted a dark brow.

I studied him while he studied me. Bastian Armanelli was a sight in the dark of night in a suit, a vision on a plane with that suit unbuttoned and unbuckled with me on my knees, and he was beautiful while watching the sunrise on an island with me standing in the sand beside him.

Yet, Bastian with bed head and no shirt on first thing in the morning was a priceless work of art that would be sought after for centuries to come. Women would call him timeless with his sculpted muscles, strong jaw, full head of dark hair, and broad, strong shoulders. I wanted to lick every part of him. Instead, I looked away.

“Yes, it was fun. I don’t think we could have had much more fun than we did, though, right?”

“You so sure?” Ah, there was the real man.

He dropped the controlled mask he wore so well and his eyes grazed up and down my body.

“For someone who rode my c**k all night and screamed my name, you’re sure in a hurry to get back to your regularly scheduled programming, piccola ragazza.”

I took a deep breath, trying not to be tempted by the Italian falling from his lips.

“Bastian, night’s over. Can’t call me that anymore.” He chuckled.

“So, I shouldn’t expect that daddy nickname to continue either?” I face planted into my palm.

“Oh, God. Please, let’s not talk about the night.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s over? I don’t normally have to do this morning exchange.” I straightened my clothes as the jet moved.

“And we’re headed back to civilization. You’ll go back to where you came from, and I’ll go back to where I came from.”