Page 30 of Savage Prince

“Yes, it does!” I try to squirm free of his hold, but it only tightens so my breasts are pressed more tightly against his bare chest. His knee rubs against my apex, and fuck me, if tiny sparks don’t ignite at my core. “You and me grew up in the same world, damn it,” I rasp. “We’re survivors. You have to be to make it this far in life.”

His dark brows furrow, his eyes widening ever so faintly.

I’m right, and he knows it. “What would you have done?” I hiss.

A long silence lingers between us, the sound of my ragged breaths creating a steady symphony against the light crashing of waves beyond.

“I would have run,” he finally grits out. His hold around my wrists relaxes but he still has me pinned against the tree. He runs his hand through his hair and draws in a ragged breath. “I will give you one last chance, Serena, a chance my own father would never have given me.”

The line between his brows deepens, lips parting as if he hadn’t meant for the final words to fall out.

“Thank you,” I whisper and attempt to wriggle free.

But his body is an immoveable force.

“Can you let me go now?”

“I don’t think I can.” His jaw slams shut, the crack reverberating across the quiet stillness of the night. He spins around and trudges back toward the pathway that leads into the villa, a warm glow lighting the trail. Before he enters, he swivels his head back toward me, eyes smoldering. “Come inside, and I’ll give you something to eat.”

Dipping my head, I slowly limp after him. I can’t keep risking Bella’s life. How many more chances will I really get with this man? With my shoulders rounding, I stagger the rest of the way back into my new beautiful prison.

I sit across the table from my brooding captor, slowly chewing on the ridiculously deliciousspaghetti al pomodoroAntonio just whipped up. It’s everything I can do not to moan as the savory flavors of vine-ripened tomatoes and roasted garlic roll around my tongue.

The craziest part is that he made it all from scratch in a manner of minutes. As if creating the best pasta I’ve ever tasted outside of myNonna’s kitchen,Diorest her soul, is a daily occurrence. Maybe I seriously do need to reconsider my attempts at escape.

He watches me, that piercing gaze boring a hole into my forehead. But I don’t look up, I keep my head down and focus on shoving as much pasta into my mouth as I can fit without choking.

Damn, when was the last time I ate? It had been the longest forty-eight hours of my life.

I slurp up the final strand of spaghetti and the savory sauce splashes my chin. Before I can swallow, Antonio leans across the table with a napkin and dabs at the tomato splatter.

Wow, that’s embarrassing, but also, “Boundaries!”

He jerks his hand back, crumpling the paper napkin. “I didn’t want it to fall on my shirt,” he snaps.

Oh, right. I almost forget I’m still wearing it. His warm amber scent covers me like second skin. After only half a night wearing it, I’ve already become accustomed to his natural fragrance.

“Right, tomato sauce is a bitch to get out of clothes.”

His lip twitches, but he doesn’t fully give in to the smile.

“How did you learn to cook like that? I didn’t think mob bosses had time to master the culinary arts.”

A long beat of silence passes, and I’m certain he’s going to ignore my question when his mouth starts to move. “My mother was an excellent cook, and when I was young I would spend hours following her around the kitchen.” The words tumble out, slowly at first before picking up speed. “After she died,Papàwas left with three boys and little skills in the kitchen.” He shrugs. “I helped as much as I could.”

“How old were you?” I whisper.

“Ten.”

A twinge of sympathy fills my chest as I regard the man staring intently at me from across the table. I picture that little boy from the painting again and the ache intensifies. “Dio, that’s awful. You were so young.” My eyes widen. “Also, you learned to do all this at the age of ten?”

I’m twenty-four and still can’t cook a decent meal to save my life.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.” His head cocks to the side as he scrutinizes me. The momentary vulnerability vanishes, replaced by the icy mask I’ve come to recognize. “Do you cook?”

“Absolutely not, so if you’re looking for a hostage-slash-home cook you took the wrong Valentino princess.” I throw him a smirk before I realize what I’ve said. “Not that Bella is any better so don’t get any ideas.”

“Relax, I have no intention of keeping you longer than absolutely necessary. And I have my own cook.” Something dark flashes across his face, the ominous streak vanishing before I can fixate on it. “If you’ve eaten enough, I’ll escort you back to your room.” He stands, looming over me, his jaw hardening. “And I urge you to stay put this time,tesoro. I’m cranky when I don’t sleep, and as it is, tomorrow will be a difficult day.”

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