Page 18 of Bound By Honor

“Your job today is to help me find a dress for the gala and try—just try—to act like a normal person for two hours.”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “There’s nothing normal about this situation,Principessa.”

He’s right, of course. The security detail shadows us at a careful distance—Marco’s best men positioned at strategicpoints along the street. But for once, I refuse to let their presence cage me.

“Come on.” I grab his hand, ignoring his sharp intake of breath at the contact. “Saks first. You’re going to help me try on ridiculously expensive dresses, and you’re going to like it.”

“Aurora—”

“Unless you’d prefer I shop alone?” I arch an eyebrow, knowing he won’t risk letting me out of his sight.

The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Fine. But we stay together.”

Inside Saks, the air conditioning and soft music wrap around us like silk. A saleswoman materializes, all professional charm and practiced grace.

“The evening wear collection is this way,” she says, leading us past racks of designer labels. “Any particular style in mind?”

I catch Luciano’s reflection in a mirror, noting how his gaze never stops moving, cataloging exits and potential threats even here. “Something that will make certain people stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

The saleswoman looks confused, but starts pulling dresses—jewel tones and dramatic cuts that make Luciano’s expression tighten imperceptibly.

“This one.” I select a deep burgundy gown with a dangerously high slit. “I’ll try this first.”

In the fitting room, I deliberately leave the zipper undone. “Luciano? I need help with this.”

His sharp inhale carries through the door. “Get the attendant.”

“She’s busy with another customer. Don’t be difficult.”

A pause, then the door opens just enough for his broad frame to slip inside. The small space immediately feels electric, charged with his presence.

“Turn around,” he commands softly.

I face the mirror, watching his reflection as he steps closer. His fingers brush my bare back as he grips the zipper, and I can’t suppress a shiver.

“Cold?” His voice roughens.

“No.”

He draws the zipper up slowly, his knuckles grazing my spine. Through the mirror, I watch his eyes darken as they follow the movement.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, so quietly I almost miss it.

I turn to face him, the motion bringing us chest to chest in the confined space. “The dress?”

His gaze drops to my lips. “You know damn well it’s not just the dress.”

The air between us thickens with possibility. His cologne surrounds me, making my head spin. One of his hands still rests at the small of my back, burning through the silk.

A sharp knock shatters the moment. “Everything alright in there?”

Luciano steps back, control snapping back into place. “Fine. We’ll take this one.”

The drive home starts peacefully enough. I’m still smiling at Luciano’s grumbled compliments when the first black sedan cuts us off.

“Down!” Luciano’s command comes a split second before bullets shatter our windows. He throws himself over me as our driver swerves violently.

Glass rains around us as more shots ring out. Through the chaos, I hear Luciano barking orders into his phone, his body a shield over mine.

---