Page 53 of Bound in Vengeance
Underneath my hands, which are frantically gripping his shirt, Alessandro’s entire body goes completely rigid. The air around him shifts, radiating a sudden, murderous fury so potent it makes the dark feel lethal. I can hear the dangerous, rhythmic grinding of his jaw.
But he doesn't let that fury touch me. He forces his voice to remain entirely calm, completely focused on pulling me out of the memory.
"He will never touch you again," Alessandro vows, his gravelly voice dripping with an absolute, terrifying promise. "I am going to burn his world to the ground, Sienna. But right now, you are with me. You are safe. Focus on my touch."
Before the panic can swallow me whole, he leans down and captures my mouth. The tenderness of it catches me off guard.
It’s slow, steady, and impossibly grounding, as though he’s trying to pull me back from the edge one breath at a time. His lips move against mine with quiet assurance, asking for nothing, demanding nothing, simply reminding me that he’s here.
But the panic still claws at my chest.
Needing something stronger, something that will drown out the noise in my head, I surge forward and deepen the kiss myself. A low sound rumbles in his chest as I press closer.
The gentle reassurance between us ignites into something hotter, more urgent. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me flush against his massive body, anchoring me against him so completely that I can feel the heavy, steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my palms.
And for the first time since the panic began, I can breathe.
Before it can go any further, the overhead lights suddenly snap back on with a loud buzz, blinding us. The elevator gives another short jolt and smoothly begins to move down the shaft again.
I blink rapidly against the sudden light, breathless and completely flushed, my hands still tangled in his hair. Alessandro breaks the kiss slowly, his dark eyes heavy with an intense, lingering lust and a fierce protectiveness as he looks down at my swollen lips.
He doesn't move away, keeping me pinned against the wall even as the elevator doors smoothly slide open to the parking garage.
We drive to the high-end shopping district in silence, the lingering heat from the elevator pressing between us.
At the luxury boutique, the process of finding a gown for tonight’s dinner is quick. Alessandro completely takes over, his eyes scanning the racks until he points out a floor-length, deep emerald silk dress.
It is incredibly modest, featuring a high neckline and long sleeves, yet tailored so perfectly that it contours every line of my body with elegance. I accept the dress without argument even though it’s too modest for my style.
As we leave the boutique, we walk past the grand display windows of an exclusive, appointment-only bridal atelier. The sight of a sweeping white gown in the window makes my footsteps falter.
"I still don't have a dress for the wedding," I murmur, staring at the silk train. "I’ll have to come back tomorrow morning with my sisters to find something."
Alessandro stops beside me, his gaze dropping to the display before cutting sharply back to me. "No. The entire point of us coming out today was wedding shopping. We're getting it now."
I frown, turning to face him. "Alessandro, you really shouldn't be there when I pick out a wedding dress. It’s bad luck. It goes entirely against tradition for the groom to see it before the ceremony."
He lets out a low, dismissive scoff. "I don't care about tradition at all, Sienna. Let's go."
Before I can protest, he grips my elbow and guides me through the arched glass doorways of the atelier. The sales assistants instantly recognize his name, bowing their heads and ushering us into a massive, opulent private viewing suite in the back.
While the stylists begin pulling options, my eyes are instantly drawn to a stunning, avant-garde gown on a mannequin in the corner. It's a provocative masterpiece—made of sheer French lace, with a low-plunging neckline and a daring, open back that leaves very little to the imagination. It's bold, fierce, and entirely untraditional.
Alessandro follows my gaze, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the sheer fabric. Dislike instantly hardens his features. "No," he rumbles flatly. "You're not wearing that."
He turns to the head stylist, his voice leaving no room for argument as he points to a completely different gown on the rack. It's a heavy satin dress with a structured corset bodice, a square neckline, and a sweeping, dramatic train. It is stunning, but very concealing, leaving everything to the imagination.
“Bring her that one."
“Alessandro…”
“That’s what you’re wearing.”
I am ushered into the large, circular changing room, the heavy velvet curtains closing me off from the world. The stylists help me step into the massive satin gown, hooking the intricate buttons up my spine before stepping out to let me view myself in the triple-mirror.
The dress is breathtaking, transforming me into a queen, but as I stare at my reflection, a wave of nostalgia hits me. I lose myself in my own head, my fingers lightly tracing the satin fabric.
Suddenly, the heavy velvet curtain rustles, and Alessandro walks straight into the private changing room.
