Silent Vows: Chapter 6

I wasn’t one to shy away from sin. In fact, I was rather fond of several of the deadliest sort, but envy had never been much of a problem. Until now. The thought of Noemi fucking another man had turned my insides as green as her jade-speckled eyes.

What if I wanted a lover?

Jesus. Just recalling her question made my skin crawl with the need to lash out. I’d told her she could do whatever she wanted, but that was bullshit. Not once she was mine. Not if I still felt this cloying sense of need that I couldn’t fucking shake. It had been two damn days since dinner at her house, and I couldn’t get those fuck-me lips out of my brain.

Even worse, I’d begun to wonder how her voice had sounded before, back when she could speak.

She was Italian, for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t have given two shits about her, let alone daydreamed about how dirty words would sound falling from her lips. And the very last thing I should have been doing was following her around like a fucking puppy. Yet here I was, sitting at her usual coffee shop, waiting for her to arrive like a trained golden retriever.

Fuck me.

I’d gone around in my head so many times about our last exchange that I’d needed to see her again just to be sure I’d interpreted her reactions correctly. That I hadn’t just convinced myself of what I’d wanted to see. That she was affected by me as much as I was by her.

When she walked into the shop, she stuttered to a stop at the sight of me. I held back a smirk and instead concentrated my stare on her pathetic babysitter. The chalk-eater glared at me, but he couldn’t touch me now that the wedding contract was in place. Regardless, he was itching for a rematch after I’d taken him down without breaking a sweat. It was written all over his pathetic pouting face.

Eventually, he retreated to sit like a good dog outside the café, and Noemi joined me at the table. She was back in casual clothes but was no less seductive for it. Something about the way she carried herself made her wardrobe irrelevant. She could be sexy as hell in a fucking clown suit.

She took out her notepad from her purse, and I found myself yet again wondering what her voice had been like. Was it delicate like the distant ringing of a windchime or warm and sultry like a summer breeze?

On second thought, it was probably best I didn’t know.

I dropped my eyes from her to the message she slid across the table.

Waiting for me with my usual breakfast is dangerously close to a romantic gesture.

I hated how right she was, but I’d never admit it. “I assure you, there’s nothing romantic about my motivations.”

She arched a brow.

Then why are you here?

I leaned forward, clasping beneath the seat of her chair and sliding her close enough to feel her shaky breath on my lips. I’d been around long enough to know fear when I saw it. It was thick and sticky and tainted the air all around with bitterness. When Noemi was close to me, fear didn’t scent the air. It was something just as primal but far more intriguing. Desire. Need.

I ran the back of my hand slowly down her arm and reveled in the way she shivered at my touch.

“That right there is why I’m here. I felt the way you responded to me at your house, and I’ve wanted more since the minute I left. Call it romance if you want. I don’t really care what you call it, so long as those pretty lips end up panting my name.”

I leaned back in my chair, relieving the tension between us. If I hadn’t, my dick would have ended up so hard that everyone in the damn café would have seen the bulge in my pants.

For the briefest second, her body followed mine, listing forward before she caught herself.

Coming here had been the right decision. I’d had no reason to doubt my instincts. The young Mancini wanted me, no matter how adamant her written refusals.

Just because my body responds to you doesn’t mean I want you.

“Trust me, sweetheart. I don’t want you either, but we’re about to be bound together. There’s no reason we shouldn’t make the most of it.” The truth, sort of, but as the words crossed my lips, I realized it might have been the wrong thing to say.

Noemi cocked her head to the side, and a catlike grin spread across her lips before she scooped a finger full of cream cheese off her bagel and wiped it the full length of my Brunello Cucinelli silk tie. Then she stared right at me as she sucked the remainder off her finger.

Fuck. Me.

I was so fucking turned on, I couldn’t even be mad. Leaning in, I whispered close to her ear, “Keep sucking that finger. You’re going to need the practice.” A shit-eating grin split my face as I walked away.

“I give you a concussion, your ma’s gonna give me a concussion.” Bishop danced on his toes in the ring, his gloved fists up at his face. “Where the hell is your head at, man?”

I feigned a jab, then snuck in an uppercut that hit its mark, sending my best friend stumbling backward. “Where’s your head at, besides my fist?” I grinned behind my mouth guard, entertained by the ridiculousness of my retort.

“Ohhhh, tough guy thinks he’s got a sense of humor, huh?” He came at me with a wicked-fast series of swings that nearly had me on the ground.

“Fuck, man. It’s sparring, not a prize fight.”

Bishop chuckled, spitting out his guard. “Winning is winning.”

I shook my head and tugged off my gloves. “You’ve been training with Torin too much. That guy’s psycho.”

“He’s got drive. I admire that. You would too if you weren’t so distracted.” He squirted a stream of water into his mouth, then leaned against the ropes. “You still thinking about the girl? She’s a sweet little thing. I’d probably think about her, too.”

I scowled. “Watch it, fuckwad. That’s my future wife you’re talking about.”

He raised his hands in retreat. “My bad, man.”

“Besides, that’s not exactly it. Something doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Like what?”

“It’s just strange.” I shook my head. “She isn’t anything like I was told. And there’s not a single scar on her neck from the crash—nothing to explain a permanent loss of voice. Maybe it sounds crazy, but I feel like I’m missing something.”

“See what you can dig up. Better now than later, once you’re stuck with her.”

I grunted. I’d already decided it was time to do some research, but not because I was considering backing out. I’d made Jimmy a promise, and I always kept my word. And I wouldn’t be choosing another woman because somewhere in the past few days, I’d decided that Noemi was meant for me.

Maybe it was too many years of listening to the old guys blather on about fate. I didn’t buy into that bullshit, but I also didn’t know how else to explain this strange compulsion growing inside me. An instinctual attraction that had my thoughts and desires locked on one woman. Nothing else distracted from my singular need for Noemi Mancini. She was mine, and I was going to prove it to her.