He could easily see my dress.
What little there was of it.
I’d gone to my gym first this morning, the one in the city. My workout was long. It kicked my ass. Then I took a shower using the fancy products that my gym provided to justify the ridiculous monthly fee.
After that, I’d gone to my favorite coffee shop with a book, my phone turned off, enjoying my latte without distraction. Then I shopped for the dress. A manicure. Pedicure. Blowout at the Dry Bar. Makeup done by a friend of a friend who worked at some fancy makeup studio.
So by the time I arrived, I looked good.
I looked fucking great.
The dress I was wearing was low cut. The silky white fabric barely covered my tits. There was a huge open section, showing off my midsection and my entire back. Then it skimmed over my body all the way to the ankles. Best of all, the fabric was so sheer you could see the white panties I had on underneath. The nipple covers I was wearing were the only reason you couldn’t see them.
My hair was in thick, wild curls down my back. The makeup I was wearing was light, my freckles showing through, my skin sun-kissed and glowing.
I’d done the badass mafia wife in red, in leather, in lace, with the heavy makeup. It was time for something different.
And it was making its intended impact.
“This isn’t our engagement party,” I replied, not faltering under Cristian’s murderous stare. “The engagement is merely the cover for the deal to take place. For you to claim an unwilling woman as yours. And though you’ve taken a lot of choices away from me, no fucking way will you ever tell me what I put on my body.” My saccharine sweet tone fell away now.
“Unwilling,” Cristian repeated. His hands flexed around my arms then one moved to my chest, yanking the fabric of my dress away. He peeled at the nipple cover, discarding it so my skin was exposed.
He ran his thumb over my pebbled nipple, and I sucked in a harsh breath. My eyes flickered to the open door, to the end of the dining room, toward where the party was in full swing.
The doors that opened to the patio were shut, but the windows were open and the drapes blew in the wind, showing people moving outside. They could’ve seen in, if they’d wanted to.
This was not a club full of people who had agreed to the same thing, got off on the same thing. This was a different environment entirely. These were strangers who very well could’ve wanted us dead.
Cristian saw me looking toward the window. He did not cover me up, did not move away from me.
“Will you refuse me?” he murmured, using his other hand to bunch up my dress and find his way to my panties.
He moved them to the side so he could plunge a finger inside of me.
“Will you refuse me, Sienna?” he repeated, his voice husky.
“You know I won’t.” My voice was a fractured whisper.
“Then get my cock out of my pants.”
I didn’t even hesitate. My hands went to his slacks, and I freed him before encircling his hard length.
Cristian hissed through his teeth. “We’re not playing this time.” He adjusted me so my leg went around his hip. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Fast. You’re going to come quickly because I know you’re already close. I’m going to come inside you. Tomorrow, you’re going to throw out your pills. Think about that while I fuck you.”
He didn’t give me a chance to process what he’d just said, what it meant. No, he designed it so the second the words left his mouth, he slammed into me.
And he was right.
He fucked me hard, fast. And I quickly fell apart, thinking about what it meant that this very well may be the last time we had protected sex.
Which was altogether fucking insane.
“The entirety of this party is going to see my nipples,” I groused as Cristian pulled my dress back to rights.
He’d already used a napkin to clean me up after we were done. The gesture was intimate and tender and completely at odds with what had just happened.
Cristian’s eyes flickered to my chest. “No one is brave enough to let their gaze fall there. Not if they value their life.”
I quirked a brow at him, and he regarded me right back, likely prepared for a snarky comment from me. But I didn’t have the energy.
“Okay, let’s go,” I sighed. “We can always use my nipples as an excuse to kill off anyone you perceive as an enemy,” I commented dryly.
Cristian stared at me, his mouth twitching. “Anyone who looks at your nipples is a fucking enemy,” he replied. Not so dryly.
And so that’s how I walked, hand in hand with my fiancé, into my engagement party that was also being used to facilitate what would become one of the most notorious partnerships in organized crime.