Page 59 of Savage Prince

He smirks, a spark lighting up those midnight eyes. “I don’t think so,tesoro.”

“If I wanted you dead, don’t you think I would’ve killed you by now? You’re not exactly in any state to fight back.”

He looses a frustrated breath, eyes locked on mine. He inches the gun closer, but his wary fingers don’t release it into my waiting hand. “Whydidyou come back for me?”

My shoulders lift again, slowly now so I can buy some more time. “I already told you?—”

“You’re lying. We both know you could’ve gotten away much faster without me. At this rate, I’ll only slow you down.”

“You forget I have a sprained ankle, and those arsonist assholes are searching the town looking for me as we speak.”

“I have no doubt you could’ve given them the slip. You had no problem with my guards.”

“And yet you caught me.”

“Yes,Idid.” His eyes narrow, the sleek obsidian piercing, as if he stares hard enough, he’ll be able to tear the truth right out of my soul. “So why did you come for me?”

“I don’t know,” I grit out. “Clearly, being held captive has fucked with my mind. Isn’t that a thing, Stockholm’s Syndrome or whatever? Maybe I find you both threatening and weirdly nurturing… especially after what happened with Otto. I guess I thought I owed you or something.”

His dark brows furrow, the intense emotion flashing across his face like a brewing storm. His hand reaches out, his rough thumb brushing my cheek. And Ilethim. I don’t dare move, I barely breathe. “What happened with Otto was my fault. You don’t owe me shit,tesoro. I wish I could go back and kill him slower so that I could relish in his suffering, one hour of torture for every minute of pain that he caused you.”

He strokes my cheek tenderly and the gentle touch is so at odds with the brutal mob boss who kidnapped me that my brain starts to short circuit, and I lean in. The burn of his lips from earlier today still ghosts over my own, a permanent reminder,a branding. How am I turned on by the idea of him torturing someone?

In all fairness, it’s not just anyone, it’s thebastardowho tried to rape me. And I would enjoy watching Antonio beat the shit out of him again.

He draws in a long breath, then exhales slowly and releases me. “We should go. Are you good to drive?”

“Sure. I’m not the one with the bullet wound.”

“How’s your ankle after all the walking?”

“It’s fine.” I jump up and grab the steering wheel, anxious to get the hell out of here. “Plot the course, captain, or whatever the hell you’re supposed to say.”

Antonio chuckles again, but this time the warm sound is restrained, as if fully giving into it would be painful. “Just skirt the coast, but don’t get too close.” He points toward an illuminated section of the lake, which I assume must be the center of Como. “Whoever came for us could still be in the vicinity. If I’d been the one to call the hit, I would make sure my guys confirmed all the bodies.”

A chill skirts up my spine, a mixture of unease, exhaustion and the breeze churning in the middle of the open water. “What makes you so sure they came forus?”

“Because it’s too much of a coincidence. I haven’t been back at that villa for over ten years. Why now? Why not attack in Roma where I’ve been for months? I’m not a man who hides, Serena. I’ve been out in the open living my life since I became the head of the Ferrara syndicate. I attend parties at my nightclubs, a variety of social events, and I even do my own grocery shopping. Coming at me here was no coincidence.”

I turn the steering wheel toward the coast, maintaining a low speed to keep the engine from roaring. I steal a quick peek at Antonio over my shoulder. A tendon flutters in his jaw, his darkbrows furrowed. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.Papàwas not behind this. He would never.”

“So you say…”

“Yes, I say, and it’s true. Same goes for any of the Kings. My father has an iron grip over his men, and none would betray him. They would never be stupid enough.”

“I hope you’re right,tesoro.”

CHAPTER 30

A GOOD MAN

Antonio

A musky, earthy odor fills my nostrils as I lead the way, sopping wet, into the old boathouse. We’d been forced to cut off the engine a few yards offshore and drag it in the remainder of the way. Serena walks behind me, her limp more noticeable after today’s fiasco. The floorboards creak with each step, escalating my pulse which only worsens the throbbing pain from the wound. Serena was right. I’d waited too long to have it dressed, and the thread was a poor substitute for real stitches. I can almost feel the infection setting in.

Ignoring the bleak thoughts, I reach for my phone and find my pocket empty.Merda, I must have dropped it in the damned lake. Can nothing go right for me this week? Muttering curses in my mind, I find a lantern hanging from the wall, and I’m shocked to find it lights up with the flick of a button. It illuminates the old structure, revealing every shadowed nook. Possibly too brightly. A newer version of our old Riva sits in the far corner beneath a large tarp and a variety of other watersportsequipment fills the remainder of the space, from kayaks to water skis and tubes, it’s well-equipped for the perfect family summer vacation.

“Too bad we can’t stay and enjoy the jet ski in the morning.” As if she’s read my thoughts, her eyes pivot to the sleek wave runner.

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