Page 43 of Savage Prince

Merda, what did I do?

I inch closer, my hand finding hers. It’s as cold as ice. Tangling my warm fingers through hers, I bend over her head and whisper, “Rest,tesoro.I swear I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” Her sweet strawberry scent reaches my nostrils, and I lean closer, brushing my lips across her forehead. “Sogni d’oro.”Sweet dreams.

Soft footfalls tear me to the present, and my head spins over my shoulder. Mariuccia tiptoes into the room, carrying a mug of chamomile tea, the sweet fragrance immediately filling the space. “I thought she would be unable to sleep,” she whispers.

“It took her awhile, but the exhaustion won out.”

She motions to the chair in the corner. “I can stay with her so that you can handle yourbusiness.” She speaks the final word with so much contempt it’s like another punch to the gut.

“I’ve already handled it. A clean-up crew is on its way.”

“Still, I can stay?—”

“I said no,” I bark, the reply coming out harsher than intended. Drawing in a steadying breath, I face the woman who was like a second mother to me. “Scusi. Serena isn’t the only one exhausted after the past few days. I appreciate the offer, but I will stay with her as I promised.”

“Oh.” A half-smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I mutter.

“Like what,signore?” Her eyes sparkle with delight as she sets the cup on the nightstand and turns toward the door.

My only response is a weary eyeroll.

She must see her opening and takes a chance, inching closer. “I know you, Antonio Ferrara.” She jabs a wrinkled finger into my chest. “Andthisis not you. There is still time to make it right. Take the girl back to her family.”

“I can’t,” I hiss. “EverythingPapàbuilt rests on this, on her…”

“Tonio, who cares? Who needs an empire if you don’t have real happiness, true love, or a big family to share it with?”

“You don’t understand, you simply can’t.” My fingers curl into fists. “I must do this forPapà.”

“Your father is dead, Tonio!” Those blazing orbs sear into my own as she regards me. “Ghosts don’t need empires either. It is only your pride and your thirst for revenge guiding you now.”

I bite my tongue, smothering the building anger, because I know I won’t win this argument. Mariuccia doesn’t know me, not the man I was forced to become. “It’s too late,” I finally murmur.

“It’s never too late,figlio mio.” With those final two words,my son, she whirls toward the door and steps out as quietly as she’d come in, her words lingering in the air for hours later.

CHAPTER 22

HE STAYED

Serena

Shards of brilliant light pierce the translucent curtains, drawing me from a fitful sleep. Muttering a curse, I roll over and pull the comforter up over my head. Wait a second. Morning already?

My eyes snap open and I jolt straight up, a strangling fear squeezing my lungs. A familiar figure is sprawled across the foot of the bed, long legs dangling over the side. With those dark eyes finally closed and that intrusive gaze shuttered, I take a minute to allow myself to trace those dark lashes, defined jaw and masterfully sculpted cheekbones. Those damned Ferrara genes might be ruthless, but damn are they pretty to look at.

Antonio breathes slowly, the softness in his expression at such odds with the typically hard mask he wears. He looks younger, more like the boy in the picture. My heart pinches at the sight of him curled by the footboard, still in his clothes from last night.

He stayed. All night.

Shoving down the unexpected warm and fuzzies, I remind myself it’s this asshole’s fault that I was assaulted yesterday afternoon. Not to mention the sprained ankle, and the fact that he’s still keeping me prisoner.

With the irritation once again alive and burning, I toss a pillow at the slumbering mob boss.

He bolts straight up, reaching for the gun at his hip before his eyes meet mine, and he mutters a curse. “Cazzo, Serena. I thought we were under attack.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

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