Page 20 of Filthy Savage

How the hell am I supposed to be with her all night and not kiss her?

Or fuck her.

Or do anything.

“Is it too much?” She appears unsure, and I grab her hand and kiss the top of it.

“It’s perfect.”Can’t get the thought of you up against the wall with that dress around your hips out of my damn mind.“You’re breathtaking, Emily.”

Something passes in her eyes when I say her name, though it disappears quickly.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me.” She glances down at her feet, like she’s not worthy of a man doing something nice for her. “But I really appreciate it.”

Her attention returns to me, and my need to get her naked and in my bed all night long plays on a loop.

I cup her cheek, my gaze boring deeper. “I enjoy making you smile, and the way you smiled when you opened the door said it all.”

Her face practically glows.

Gonna find out if that shithead is the only reason you’re so damn sad, and if there’s anyone else hurting you, they won’t live long enough to do it again.

“Are you ready to go?” I slide my fingers through hers. “My brother needs us at the ceremony in ten. Will you be okay sitting by yourself for a bit?”

“Yeah, of course.” She’s nervous, I can tell.

“I’ll have you sitting next to my father’s wife, Fernanda. She’s nice. You’ll like her.”

We start toward the elevator, entering it as it arrives.

“Don’t fuss over me. This is your brother’s wedding. I’ll be fine.”

I have no doubt that she will be, but she has no idea that she’s about to walk into a room full of some of the most dangerous people in the world.

AMARA

We head down to the lobby and past check-in, looping around toward the back and into the outdoor area where the ceremony and reception will take place.

“There you bloody are.”

An older man with a heavy Irish accent approaches as soon as we step in, his thick gray brows tugged in concern. Pale green eyes bounce between us, and I start to wonder if this is Fionn’s father.

“And who might you be?” An easy smile forms on his face.

“I’m Emily.”

“Hmm.” His eyes narrow at Fionn. “Is she your date?”

“Maybe.” He glances down at me with a smirk. “Don’t pester her, Dad.”

Dad. I was right. I can definitely see a resemblance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Sir,” he scoffs. “No need for formalities, darling. Let’s get you seated at the front with my wife, Fernanda.”

It’s like he read his son’s mind.

We head to the first row, where an older woman fingers her shoulder-length brown hair before rising to greet us.

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