[ Bound to serve ]

part 10

He exhales a stream of smoke, his eyes never leaving Vannie's face. "After all, it's not just the DeLuca name you're marrying into, but the Rossi legacy as well. And my son... he's grown into a man with his own ambitions and pride."

Vannie rolls her eyes, crossing her arms under her bust. "Vittore will agree. He knows what this means for both families," she states confidently. Suddenly, her expression softens slightly. "When is he coming back, anyway?"

He fixes Vannie with a penetrating stare."Why the sudden urgency, Vannie? Planning your wedding already?"

Vannie's cheeks flush slightly, but she maintains her composure. "No, nothing like that. I just... I miss him. We haven't seen each other in years," she admits, looking away briefly before meeting his gaze again. "Business keeps him busy, I know , I never get the chance to talk to him, so I came back."

Her father's expression softens slightly, and he takes another puff of his cigar. "Business has indeed kept him busy... too busy, sometimes." He studies Vannie's face carefully. "You've changed, you know. Grown into quite the..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully

"...quite the stunning young woman." Mr. Rossi finally settles on, giving a small nod of approval. "Even more beautiful than when you left. I imagine Vittore will scarcely recognize you." He chuckles softly, tapping ash off his cigar.

Vannie preens slightly at the compliment, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Well, I hope he does recognize me... and appreciates what he's getting." She winks teasingly at Don Giancarlo Rossi

-›

The morning light filters gently through the sheer curtains of Vittore's penthouse bedroom, illuminating the disheveled sheets where two bodies lay entwined. Vittore stretches languidly, his muscular arm tightening momentarily around the curvaceous form pressed against him.

As Vittore stirs, he buries his face in the crook of his mystery companion's neck, inhaling her scent deeply. He feels warm, soft curves against his hard chest and muscular arms. He slowly opens his eyes, blinking against the bright sunlight. "Mmm..."

ROSE...

Rose carefully extracts herself from Vittore's embrace, her movements slow and deliberate. She slides out of the bed, the cool air of the room prickling her skin. She wraps a silk robe around her, tying it tightly at the waist as if trying to physically protect herself from the memories of the night before.

Vittore's eyes flicker open as he feels the bed shift. He watches Rose quietly as she moves away from him, noting the way she avoids his gaze and the tight grip she has on her robe. A small, satisfied smile plays on his lips. "Leaving so soon, Rose?"

Rose quickly adjusts her robe, ensuring every inch of her bruised skin is covered. She avoids Vittore's gaze, her movements hurried as she collects her scattered clothes from the floor. She doesn't respond to his question, instead focusing on getting dressed as quickly as possible.

Vittore watches Rose with amusement as she rushes to dress, his smirk growing. He leans back against the headboard, arms behind his head. "Running away so fast? Afraid I might see what I've already touched?" His voice drips with sarcasm, a cruel edge to his teasing.

Rose freezes at Vittore's words, her heart racing. She keeps her back to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "You may have... used my body last night. But I am not yours to claim, Mr Vittore Rossi."

Vittore lets out a low, rumbling laugh, finding her defiance surprisingly arousing. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, principessa? That I 'used' your body?" He swings his legs out of bed, standing up with graceful predation.