CRIMSON VOWS

Chapter 16

She awoke to dead silence.

For a brief second, Aira forgot where she was. Then the memory of the golden band on her finger rushed back, heavy and suffocating.

A sharp knock sounded at her locked bedroom door.

Followed by his voice.

"Aira. Get up. We’re going out."

She walked over and unlocked the door, opening it just a c***k. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Dominic stood in the hallway, looking imposing in a tailored charcoal suit, his dark eyes fixed on her through the gap.

"You're my wife now," he said smoothly, his tone leaving zero room for argument. "You will go where I say, when I say. Put something quiet and elegant on. You're mine to dress today."

By afternoon, Dominic had cleared out an entire luxury shopping district in the heart of the city. Every designer and shopkeeper bowed the moment he crossed their threshold.

He walked two steps behind Aira with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes tracking her every move like a predator studying its prey.

Aira stopped in front of a rack, her fingers brushing against a pale blue silk designer gown.

Dominic closed the distance behind her, leaning down until his lips hovered near the shell of her ear. "That color... makes your skin look like pure porcelain," he whispered, his deep voice vibrating against her spine. "Makes me want to leave bite marks all over it."

Aira dropped the fabric instantly, her cheeks burning as she pulled her hand away.

Later, in a private shoe salon, Dominic bypassed the attendants entirely. He dropped to one knee beside her velvet chair, picking up a pair of sleek, strapless heels.

As he slid one onto her foot, his fingers lingered around her ankle, warm and possessive.

"You have the kind of feet that should never touch the ground," he murmured, looking up at her through dark lashes. "Only be worshipped."

Aira yanked her foot back, her jaw tight. "You're disgusting," she hissed under her breath.

Dominic rose smoothly to his feet, a cold smirk touching his lips. "And yet here you are. Married to me."

By evening, he had taken her to the private screening room inside his estate.

Aira sat curled up at the far edge of a plush leather couch, her arms wrapped around her knees. Dominic lounged beside her, his long legs stretched out, his arm resting along the top of the cushion—just inches from her shoulders.

The projector screen flickered with a quiet film, but neither of them was paying attention.

Halfway through the movie, Dominic shifted, leaning into her space until his shadow completely covered her.

"You like these slow burns, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Aira kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to answer.

"I do too," he whispered, his fingers reaching out to trail down the side of her neck. "But eventually... the fire has to touch the skin."

Before she could pull back, his hand cupped the back of her head, pulling her face to his.

He kissed her.

It was soft at first—slow, intoxicating, and lingering—before deepening into something demanding and possessive.

Aira thrashed against him, putting both hands against his chest and shoving him off with all her strength.

Crack.

Her palm struck his cheek hard for the third time since they met.

Dominic’s head turned slightly with the blow. He didn't flinch. He didn't lose his temper. Instead, he slowly faced her again, a dark, wicked smile spreading across his jawline.

"I like it when you fight," he whispered, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the screen. "It just means you're still mine to conquer."

Late that night, Aira locked herself in her suite, trying to wash away the memory of his touch.

The master bedroom was dark, lit only by the pale moonlight streaming through the terrace doors. Exhausted, she turned around toward the bed—and gasped, a sharp scream catching in her throat.

Dominic was standing right there in the dark hallway of her room, leaning casually against the doorframe. One of his security detail had already unlocked the inner connecting door for him.

"What are you doing in here?!" she choked out, backing away until her spine hit the wall.

Dominic stepped forward—slow, deliberate, and quiet. He pinned her against the wall, not touching her, but hovering close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He leaned closer, his hot breath ghosting across her earlobe. "You're so good at hating me, Mrs. Moretti."

Aira’s voice cracked with raw, trembling emotion. "You'll never have my heart, Dominic."

Dominic smiled into the dark, his finger slowly tracing a line along the wall right beside her head.

"Sweetheart..." he whispered, his voice dropping to a dark, dangerous murmur. "I don't want your heart. Just your surrender."

And before she could draw her next breath, he stepped back and vanished into the shadows of the corridor, leaving her alone in the quiet room, trembling in the dark.