Twisted Vows

#4

Elena.

I wore the red dress he had sent up without a fight. It was the first time all week I hadn’t argued about something.

The fabric clung in all the places that made men stare, slit high enough that the knife on my thigh stayed hidden only if I was careful.

Damien met me at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at me for a long second, eyes moving over the dress, the bare skin, the way the neckline sat.

Surprisingly, he didn’t make a crude comment. He just held out his arm and said, “Car’s waiting.”

That was it. No threats or orders from him. I took his arm and we left.

The gala was the same kind of crowd as before—families who smiled while counting the guns under jackets, Council faces, cameras outside.

We were ushered straight to a table near the front. People watched us walk in. I felt their prying eyes.

Damien’s hand stayed low on my back the entire time in a possessive manner.

We sat down quietly on the seat reserved for us. I scanned the room once out of habit and stopped cold.

Cole stood near the far edge of the crowd with my brother’s men. He was in a dark suit, face carefully blank, but his eyes were locked on me.

I stared back, I couldn’t help it.

For a second the noise of the room faded and it was just the two of us across the distance, everything unsaid sitting heavy between us.

Then Damien’s hand came up, fingers firm under my chin, and turned my face toward him.

His mouth was on mine before I could react.

His lips sealed over mine hard, one hand still holding my jaw so I couldn’t pull away.

Surprise made my mouth open and he took it immediately—tongue sliding in, tasting me like he had every right.

Heat shot straight down my spine. The kiss was deep, wet, deliberate. He tilted my head and went deeper, licking into my mouth, sucking lightly on my lower lip before claiming it again.

My hands stayed frozen on the table. I couldn’t shove him off. Too many eyes. Too many cameras, so I sat there and let him kiss me like he was starving and I was the only thing on the menu.

My pulse slammed in my throat. The taste of him—whiskey—filled my head until I couldn’t think straight.

He pulled back slowly. His thumb dragged across my lower lip, wiping away the wetness he had left there.

He turned toward the cameras that had swung our way and gave them a small, satisfied wave like nothing had happened.

I stared at him, face hot. “What the f**k do you think you’re doing?”

He looked at me, completely calm. “Kissing my wife?”

“In the middle of a crowded room?”

“Seemed like the right time.”

I kept my voice low so only he could hear. “You don’t get to put your mouth on me whenever you feel like it.”

He leaned in just enough that his shoulder brushed mine. “Those lips are too f*****g perfect to belong to a vile woman like you. Addictive as hell. We should finish what we started later.”

“In your dreams.”

He almost smiled. “We’ll see.”

I turned my head to find Cole again but he was gone. The space where he had been standing was empty.

My stomach dropped.

I didn’t know if he had seen the kiss or if he had walked away before it happened. Either option sat wrong in my chest.

Across the table,my mother was watching us with a small smile. Damien’s mother wore the same expression. Our fathers sat beside them, faces stone, not smiling at all.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of forced conversation and Damien’s hand never straying far from me.

I smiled when I had to, answered questions when I had to. Inside I was still feeling the press of his mouth and hating how my body had reacted.

The car ride home was quiet.

I stared out the window and tried to sort the mess in my head. When the gates of the compound closed behind us I finally turned to him.

“Was that kiss for the public,” I asked, “or for Cole to see?”

The second Cole's name left my mouth his expression changed.

He stepped out of the car, came around to my side, and waited until I was standing. Then he walked me into the house without a word. The second the front door shut he turned on me.

He closed the distance fast, stopping only when our chests touched. Even in heels, I was still shorter than him.

“I had to do it before the whole f*****g room noticed my wife staring at a man who isn’t her husband.”

I didn’t step back. “You’re petty. You kissed me just to make another man jealous.”

He looked down at my mouth, then back up to my eyes. “I did it because I wanted to. You got a problem with that?”

“What?”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed onto mine the second time this night, rougher this time.

I made a sound of protest that turned into something else when his tongue pushed past my lips.

My hands fisted in his hair without my permission. He walked me backward until my shoulders hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of me.

We kissed like we were fighting for control—teeth, tongue, breath shared and stolen. His hands moved over me, one gripping my waist, the other sliding up my side, mapping the dress.

“f**k,” he muttered against my mouth. “This red dress. Looking so f*****g sexy. Messed with my head the entire night.”

I shoved his blazer off his shoulders while our mouths stayed locked. He shrugged it the rest of the way down and it hit the floor.

His hands found the thin straps of the dress and pulled them loose. Cool air touched my skin.

He broke the kiss only to drag his mouth down the side of my neck, open and wet, leaving a trail of heat that made my knees threaten to give. I tilted my head without meaning to. My fingers stayed buried in his hair.

A sudden noise from the direction of the kitchen—glass or a door—cut through the haze.

We froze.

I stared at him, eyes wide, the reality of what we had been doing slamming into me all at once. My dress straps were half down.

I shoved him back, hard, and ran for the stairs.

Embarrassment burned through me hotter than the kiss had. Behind me I heard his deep, throaty chuckle, like he had won something.

I didn’t stop until I was inside my room. I locked the main door with shaking hands and leaned against it, heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I had kissed him back. I had pulled him closer. For a few seconds I had forgotten every reason I hated him.

I slid down the door until I was sitting on the floor, the red dress wrinkled around me, and pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.

I was losing my mind.

And the worst part was the way my lips still felt him.