Page 27 of Broken Princess

“Ah, this is where my coffee machine has run off to?” I accuse with a broad grin on my face. She snaps out of her trance and an odd feeling settles in my gut as she returns my smile. I have always respected Aurora but I don’t think I’ve ever taken the time to appreciate her as a person.

She has always been the mafia princess, the crew leader, or Mrs. De Luca. Right now, she looks like a goddess. One I have failed and need to prove myself to. Every part of me is screaming out that she is precious and needs me, needs us, to stand by her, to have her back. I feel an overpowering need to protect her. To be there for her, in whatever way she needs.

“Well, there have to be some perks to being bedridden.”

“Fair,” I chuckle. “Want one?”

“Always.”

I bring her over a coffee, and she snatches it from me like some sort of feral animal. The bruises on her face are still as angry, but the swelling is going down some. “How are you feeling?”

She stares into her mug, refusing to meet my eyes. She sighs and with a small voice I don’t recognise she says, “Alright. My ribs hurt like a son of a bitch, the painkillers make me loopy, and I flipped out for no reason.”

Hooking a finger under her chin and forcing her to look at me, I say, “You have every fucking right to freak out. You can justifiably freak out every hour, on the hour, and you’ll hear no judgement from any of us.” I lean down closer, so we’re nose to nose and lower my tone. “I don’t know how you survived—all I know is there isn’t a person alive with the strength you have shown. You are astounding.”

Her eyes glisten, and her lips part at my words.

“It will take time, guerrierotta. But I know that once you’re recovered—once you’re ready—you will burn his world to the ground, and we will be right there to help you.”

My heart rate picks up and I can feel my neck flush as it chases the surge of emotion to the blush on my cheeks. Where the fuck did that come from? It’s like I’m drawn into her orbit. I feel the urge to get down on my knees and pledge myself to her.

Staring into her jewel-like eyes, I am mesmerised. I can see every emotion she’s experiencing play out in her gaze, and it’s doing nothing to quell these feelings that have come out of nowhere to consume me. I need to step back now. This is wrong. She’s in no condition to be dealing with my bullshit right now.

Who do I think I am? I have no right to be confusing things like this.

I close my eyes attempting to pull myself out of this trance but just as I start to lean back, her delicate lips press against mine and, in that instant, I’m lost.

I am hers.

Every inch of my body, every thought in my head screams at me to surrender myself to her. To protect her against any enemy, to submit to her, body and soul. I have never felt more like myself, and it throws my entire world out of kilter.

As quickly as I felt them, her lips are gone, and I open my eyes to find that her guard back up. She schools her features, trying to hide her thoughts. But her eyes betray her. It doesn’t matter that with one tiny action she has felled me—she’s not ready to confront whatever just happened between us.

With a reassuring smile I say, “Like I said, little warrior, you astound me.” Before she can respond, I raise a finger to her lips to stop her. “Now is not the time, Aurora. And you don’t need to say a thing.”

She releases a breath and I see her worry dissipate. My gut tightens as a feeling of pride at soothing her in any way swells within me. Hers. I’m hers.

“We have a couple of hours to kill until Sin can update us. What are we watching?”

A small and impish smile appears before she picks up the remote and says, “Bridgerton today, I think.”

Fuck… who gave her the remote?

Three episodes later, and I’m royally pissed off with Daphne’s brother for trying to marry her off to that pompous twat. I feel like I’ve entered a parallel universe because after forty years on the planet, I might have just realised I enjoy period dramas. What fresh hell is this?

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this,” I hear her tease as the credits roll.

“You tell a single member of the team, and I will?—”

“You’ll do nothing, Zo. I own you now.”

Holy shit, why did those words just feel like a shot of adrenaline coursing through my veins? I can feel the weight of them settling into my bones. My throat is so dry it makes me wince, and any response I have dies on my lips. The idea of her owning me makes my pulse race and cock twitch with excitement. I don’t know if she senses how her words have impacted me, but I need to pull myself together—fast.

Mustering all the flippancy I can, I finally respond, “Technically, you own all of us, princess.”

The instant the words leave my mouth, her countenance shifts. Her face drops. A mask of emotionlessness replaces the humour from moments ago. It’s like she’s not here anymore.

Fuck, this isn’t good. I broke her.

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