Chapter 6
Romeo Yovanni
With the worst case of blue balls forming in my trousers, I lean against the mirror and enjoy the show as Sienna’s silhouette strips. Between feeling the silky softness of her breasts, holding her risqué bra, and watching her reaction to her new dress, I cling to my control by the skin of my teeth.
If it wouldn’t sully my revenge, I would push her against the wall and fuck her senseless right now, but I won’t touch her until after Mario sees her happy and healthy at his wedding.
Part of me vows to make her pay for denying me the pleasure of seeing her in more dresses while the rest of me begs for a reprieve.
I wonder if I could rub one out before she finishes changing.
Probably.
Which means I won’t. As impressive as a one-pump jerk session may be, the release would be hollow. I’ll ensure every little swimmer who dies without a chance to fulfill their purpose will be avenged. All their future brethren will find their happily ever after inside her body.
She bends over and freezes with my sweats halfway up her legs. The angle is pure centerfold perfection. With her ass and tits—braless tits at that—jutting out, her silhouette leaves little to the imagination.
Her small sound of dismay only heightens my desire. She yanks my pants up. They slide down before she can tie them. She curses, adding a comical ambiance I never thought I’d experience with my cock a rod of steel, and chases the waistband down her legs.
I bite my knuckle to hold back both my laughter and my groans as she jiggles and wriggles her way into her clothes.
As she settles my massive shirt onto her body, I drop my hand to my side and slip both hands into my pockets to hide my raging hard on. She stomps out of the dressing area, pauses to check the room, then sighs and knocks on the partition.
“Come in,” I joke.
She scoffs.
“Are you decent?” she asks.
“Never,” I quip.
She mutters, “Obviously,” under her breath before amending, “I mean, are you wearing clothes?”
“Yes, I am,” I answer. As she steps into view, I finish in a mutter similar to hers, “unfortunately.”
Her reaction tightens my pants further. I long to see her eyes widen like that as I pound into her.
She swallows and averts her gaze to the privacy screen. When she turns accusatory eyes back toward me, I smirk and lean down, ignoring the pain as my trouser seam pinches my hard cock.
“Just returning the favor, Sienna,” I murmur.
“Did you set this up on purpose? Do you have some fetish where you like to be watched?” she asks.
“Do you?”
“What? No, I—”
“Then why did you steal my changing area?” I ask.
“It was an accident,” she hisses.
I quirk a brow, pull one hand out of my pocket, and tuck a wisp of hair back toward her ponytail. The other silky strands beg for my touch, and I ache to wrap my fist around her ponytail, but I shove my hand back into my pocket.
“Sure, bambolina. We’ll call it an accident. A happy accident. It was my pleasure. Capisci?”
Her flush deepens. Anger sparkles in her gorgeous caramel orbs.
“You’re a—”
“Let’s agree we enjoyed ourselves and move on. After all, we’re both adults in the same generation. Isn’t that right, bambolina?”
She huffs and strides away. My mouth waters as my sweatpants slip lower on her hips.
She parrots my words back to me before slipping past the curtain into the hall.
“Whatever you say, Romeo.”
I chuckle and lean back against the wall. When electricity zings through me from my pants rubbing against my hard dick as I pull my hands out of my pocket, I growl and grab myself through the fabric.
After a punishing squeeze and annoyed adjustment, I place all the items, including the shoes and accessories I chose for my little doll while she gaped at herself in the mirror—which was the only distraction I could think of so I didn’t disgrace myself—on the couch and follow her to the front of the store.
Sienna’s pallor and posture as she stands by the door alert me to foul play. She looks ready to both vomit and flee. The haunted expression tightening her lips warns of deep-rooted abuse.
Despite my urge to rush to her, I stop at the end of the hall, staying out of view but within listening range of most of the showroom.
My blood boils as the two younger attendants’ gossip carries clearly throughout the shop despite their quiet voices.
“—wearing that? She doesn’t belong here. It’s damaging the shop’s reputation.”
“I wonder what tricks she pulled to bag him, though.”
“I know, right? She’s not exactly pretty, and obviously she isn’t clean. Maybe she—”
I stalk forward. The women freeze as I stride into view. Sienna stares at me like cornered prey as I approach her, but she doesn’t fight when I grab her wrist and lift her hand. I pry open her fist and slide my black card onto her palm.
“Put them in their place, bambolina,” I demand.
She swallows before shaking her head.
“No, it’s not worth—”
“Either you do it or I will, and I won’t use a card or a pen. Capisci?”
Her pupils dilate as she recalls how I stopped the altercation with the bikers in San Francisco. We both know I didn’t scare them away by clicking a pen.
I don’t fully understand the cold rage icing my veins but decide to ignore the confusing emotions and place it in the same arena as my revenge.
I’m the only one allowed to put that lost, hurt expression on Sienna Luciano’s face.
She closes her fingers over the card and nods. I move beside her, lean against the wall by the front door, and cross my arms over my chest.
After a deep breath, she rolls her shoulders back and glides to the desk. When both women step forward, eager to help her with me in the room, she holds up a hand in the universal sign for stop.
With impressive patience, Sienna lets the silence continue. She wields her power with utmost control, her body language neutral yet unwavering. The two women behind the counter look at each other. One tries to engage Sienna again but shrinks back without uttering a word.
Sienna’s reflection in the shiny display behind the counter tells me why. There’s no anger in her expression, just pure resolution.
Seconds expand into minutes, but still she holds them hostage with her silence.
The attendant who showed us back to the room emerges with the items we selected boxed and bagged on a fancy cart. Sienna waits with the same expression as the woman rushes forward.
“Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?” the attendant asks.
“Terminate their employment and blacklist them both from the entire industry or lose my patronage forever.”
With one ultimatum, she shatters the girls’ dreams and ruins their future. The industry means so many things when you land a job at a high-profile business like this one. Fashion, tailoring, customer service, hell, every nation-wide retailer; no one will hire them again.
They sputter and argue, but the only sane saleswoman in the joint lifts her hand to them in the same movement Sienna performed not long ago.
“You’re both fired. Place your uniforms and name tags in your lockers. Take all your belongings. You are no longer welcome here,” she announces.
Pride flows through me. Sienna doesn’t gloat, mock, or celebrate in any way. Instead, she looks down her nose at them as though she has every right to destroy their lives.
She does. She’s mine. All mine.
The possessive thought nearly consumes my control, but I shove the sense of rightness away and scowl at the wailing former employees.
Sienna Luciano is my revenge, not my woman. My toy, not my treasure. My plaything, not my pride.
She’s nothing more than a vessel for my revenge. I’ll have fun stripping her of her haughty act.
And her dignity.
With my emotions and purpose in check, I watch with detached amusement as Sienna makes the purchase and orders the items to the car. She even leaves me in the dust as she exits the shop, but she waits like a pampered princess for me to open her door.
I join her in the backseat. She offers me my card. I grab her wrist to steady her hand and wait until she meets my eyes before I speak.
“Keep it. Make sure your uncle knows I took good care of you.”
I note the slow death of her triumph as the meaning of my words sinks in, but I struggle to find the same level of satisfaction as before.
Now she believes I helped her solely because I wish to flatter her uncle.
I guide her hand to her lap and lean back. She doesn’t say a word as we drive back to the hotel. Instead of sending her up alone again, I employ a bellhop to help her lug her new items to her room, and after quick instructions, I exit the hotel without a backward glance.
After checking in with Alan and catching up on a bit of work, I head back to the hotel and settle in one of the rooms beside Sienna’s.
Long after I’m certain she’s gone to sleep, I sneak into her room and creep up to the bed in the darkness.
Even before I cross the room, a sense of wrongness twists my insides, so when I realize pillows create the shape on the bed instead of a sleeping body, dread forms in my gut. I check the couch and bathroom but find no trace of my little doll.
Anger festers in my chest. She must have snuck out, but to where? I stalk around the bed to check the window and nearly trip on the desk chair.
Sienna lies scrunched underneath the desk with her back against the wall and a blanket wrapped tight around her.
I stare in disbelief, certain my mind is playing tricks on me, but even after glancing back and forth between the big, soft, comfortable mattress and her tiny, awkward choice on the floor, she still remains asleep under the desk.
I squat and weave my arm through the rungs of the chair toward her face.
When her breath warms the back of my fingers, undeniable relief pours through me.
I retrieve my arm and sit back on my heels for a moment. The situation is so bizarre I’m not sure how to process it.
Is she simply hiding from me or is there more at play than I realize?
She did say José had been chasing her for two years, but I figured she’d succeeded because she was still under her father’s protection. No man in the mafia worth his honor would abandon his daughter to fight day and night against a gang of bikers.
This must just be her coping mechanism for being in a strange place. After all the travel and stress of the day, she must not have felt safe out in the open.
I bury the sympathy sneaking into my chest and lean on my need for revenge.
Her father may be a piece of shit, but her uncle wants her at his wedding.
She’s pathetic for sleeping on the floor under the desk. I sneer and stalk to the door but look over my shoulder at the room.
Her pillow set up looks well practiced. I didn’t realize it was fake until I was close enough to see there was no rising and falling of a chest.
Doubt bubbles along the edges of my mind, but I grit my teeth and slip into the hall.
Sienna Luciano will not deter me from my revenge. Nothing will stop me from destroying her.
Nothing.