Page 44 of Stolen Vows
Most people are here purely for the spectacle of an auction. The only thing rich people love more than throwing their money around is watching others do the same.
A handful will bid on whatever items are put up onstage. Typically, because viewing opens up earlier in the afternoon, attendees will know what they want and what they’re willing to pay for it, so bidding wars aren’t terribly likely.
But I foresee one happening, and satisfaction wraps around my ribs at the thought.
I find Stella immediately in the room, despite her being directly in the middle and engulfed in shadows. She stands beside a pub-style table, nursing an umbrella drink, with her hair in that same updo from last night.
She looks positively unsettled.
It’s delicious.
Her outfit is different, though, which is likely the cause of the discomfort. A spotlight washes over the crowd for a moment, giving me a plain view of her before it lands onstage. The dress she wears is white lace and partially see-through, revealing skin I’ve only had the pleasure of seeing once.
Tight, perfect tits. Diamond-hard, dusky-pink nipples. Her tender cunt covered only by a nude thong.
A few people are standing far too close, stealing glances at her from the corners of their eyes. For some reason, it makes my cock twitch behind the zipper of my slacks to know they want her.
For no one other than me will have her.
Bracing my palms on the table, I bracket Stella in from behind, pressing my front into her backside. “You look good enough to eat,” I mutter against her ear, my desire for her unwilling to take a back seat to reason.
“And you sound like the villain in a corny fairy tale.” She doesn’t try to get away, nor does she turn her head to look at me. Instead, she just takes a sip of her drink, keeping her gaze trained on the stage.
“Does that make you the damsel in distress?”
“Only because you’re here.”
I shift, relishing in the feel of her ass cradled against my dick. “I never quite understood why everyone said you were nothing more than a quiet, boring carbon copy of your sisters. Dull, they told me back then. No one in my family could fathom why I’d married such a dud.”
One of my hands leaves the table’s surface, dropping to her hip and slipping lower. I flatten my palm to the outside of her thigh, squeezing her soft flesh.
“But from the moment I met you, you’ve been nothing short of bewitching. I think people have somehow mistaken your ire for monotony.”
She doesn’t say anything. The auctioneer—a tall, pale man named Reaper with long white hair, dark eyes that seem to penetrate everyone he looks at, and several piercings on his face and nipples—takes the stage, introducing himself to the audience before moving on to the first item.
“Maybe they think that because it’s what I show them,” Stella says quietly, spinning her drink in her hands.
“Why should I be any different?”
Stella clenches her jaw. “You’re not.”
“No? You’ve been lying to me then?”
“No, I just—” She halts, sucking in a breath. “Don’t go getting any ideas, okay? Telling you the truth doesn’t mean anything, just like you being here all of a sudden doesn’t.”
“Is that what you think,stellina? That us being here, it’s a coincidence?”
“Of course not. I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m sure you have some convoluted explanation for showing up out of the blue, but I’m not interested in hearing it.”
Amusement toys with the corners of my mouth as I study her profile. She keeps her mesmerizing face forward, as if hiding her eyes from me might keep her truth within. But I didn’t spend seven years watching her from afar without learning everything about this woman, and I can tell she’s still sour over how things ended between us.
“Everything happens for a reason, right? That’s the kind of research you do, trying to identify potential genetic abnormalities that might cause health issues in people. Areasonbehind a problem so you can one day develop a solution.”
Her spine stiffens. Clearly, she didn’t expect me to know much about what she does for a living. “Do you honestly think being a creepy stalker means you know me? News flash, it’s actually pathetic.”
“Most men in my position would have killed you the first time you talked to them like that,” I tell her, pushing my cock more firmly against her ass. “You’re lucky I happen to like being hurt by you.”
“I don’t think ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use.”
