Page 45 of Savage Prince

“That’s okay, I can roll them up.”

He eyes me warily before turning back to his closet and pulling the navy sweats off the hangar.

“Bocconi?” I eye the insignia of the university on the sweatshirt.

“Yes. I moved to Milano when I was eighteen and got my business degree there before returning to Roma to learn the family business.”

“Impressive.” In my short time living in the city, I’ve already heard about the famous institution. It’s like the Harvard of Italy. “Too bad you didn’t use all those brains for good instead of evil.”

A chuckle pierces the air between us. “I had little choice,tesoro.”

“We always have a choice.” I shrug before shooing him away so I can change.

“You go in the bathroom, and I’ll change out here.” He motions toward the closet.

I’d almost forgotten he still wore his dress shirt from yesterday. “Sure,” I mumble before returning to the bathroom once more.

Antonio and I eat breakfast in a semi-comfortable silence with the cook, Fabi, already preparing this evening’s meal. I’ve barely eaten since I arrived, and I haven’t seen Antonio eat at all except for the night of my escape so I’m not sure why he even bothers having the personal chef here.

But as I shovel the eggs into my mouth, I can feel my appetite returning. It’s been too many days and not enough food.

“Eat up,piccola. You are too thin!” The middle-aged woman rounds the marble island and pinches my cheek. Then drops a basket of fresh homemade pastries still warm from the oven.

“If you keep feeding me like this, I’ll be rolling out of here in a few days.”

She laughs, sweeping back strands of silver-streaked hair. “Nonsense, a woman should have curves.” She winks, sliding her hands down her hips and sashaying back toward the stove.

Antonio sits across the table, smothering a smile.

Fabi wags a finger at him, the bright pink nail polish glittering beneath the pendant light. “You know it’s true,signore. Don’t you dare try to deny it.”

“I’m not denying anything. I love women of all shapes and sizes. I do not discriminate, but I’m also not looking right now. I find myself with more woman than I can handle at the moment.” A flirty grin pulls at his lips, and the relaxed look is completely unexpected. Apparently, the key to this man’s heart is a conversation around the kitchen table.

“So you set up that Tinder account just for me?” I can’t keep the words from spilling out. What is wrong with me? Am I flirting back?

Mariuccia barrels around the corner, her eyes widening as she takes in the weirdly domestic scene. “Good morning,signorina. It’s so wonderful to see you up and about. You look well.”

I scoop another big bite of eggs into my mouth and mumble a good morning to keep my tongue busy.

Mariuccia turns to the windows, glancing outside at the sun-soaked terrazzo overlooking the lake. I follow her gaze to the classic wooden boat which bobs on the current, its polished mahogany hull reflecting the gentle ripples of the lake. Puffy white clouds move slowly overhead, through the glistening sunlight. “It’s such a beautiful day, why don’t the two of you take the boat out on the lake?”

Antonio clears his throat, then reaches for his cup, drowning his nose in the espresso. He’s clearly trying to buy some time just like I had a second ago with the eggs. The woman stares at him expectantly, and I throw a guarded look in his direction.

“We should probably remain near the phone,” he finally hedges, “in case Tony or your father call.”

I’m about to nod my agreement, reminding myself this isn’t a romantic weekend getaway and a boat ride on the lake with my captor should not be on the to-do list, when Mariuccia shakes her head. “The cellular reception is just fine on the lake. I go all the time and have no problem.”

Antonio’s dark gaze flickers to mine, then back to his housekeeper. The conflict written across his face is undeniable as he looses a frustrated breath. “Serena would you like that?”

I can see the pleading in his eyes. He wants me to say no, to let him off the hook. And only to piss him off, I throw him a smile and my head dips. “Sure, that sounds like the perfect way to kill a few hours.”

CHAPTER 23

A PICNIC

Antonio

I’m busy muttering curses as Serena steps onto the classic RivaPapàbought for the family over a decade ago. The boat epitomizes Italian craftsmanship and style with its sleek design and glossy finish. A bittersweet smile flits across my lips unbidden as I scan the cream-colored leather seats which sit four with one person standing at the steering wheel. It was just perfect for our family then, and now only two of us remain...

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