Page 44 of Savage Prince

“What?” he groans as he runs his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.

“You let me sleep all night and now I’ll never get over this damned jet lag.” I glance at the clock and point. “You see? It’s just six o’clock in the morning. No one should be up this early.”

“Agreed,” he grumbles around a yawn.

Judging by the dark circles lining the soft skin beneath his eyes, I doubt he got the more than fourteen hours of sleep I enjoyed.

Damn, I guess I really was exhausted.

Images of Otto’s hands crawling down my leg surge to the forefront of my mind, and a chill rushes up my spine. Blinking quickly, I chase away the disturbing memories.I’m fine. He tried but failed.

Thanks to the man who spent the night at my feet.

“I’m getting up,” I announce. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” I motion to the top of the bed as I slide to the edge.

“So kind of you to allow me to sleep in my own bed.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t look so rested.”

“You certainly know how to make a man feel good,tesoro.” The hint of a smile kicks up the corner of his lips.

“You have no idea,amico.” For a second, I sound and feel like my old self again. I can do this. I can bury the unwanted tangle offear, guilt and anger bloating my chest and focus on something more productive. I don’t need that single terrible moment to define me. “DidPapàcall back last night?”

“No, but Tony did. We’ve begun the negotiations. He assures me that all will be settled in the next day or so.”

Again, I can’t help but wonder what has my father so tied up that he can’t even negotiate his only daughter’s release. Not that I’m ready to speak to him yet, but maybe by tomorrow…

Wrapping the robe more tightly around my middle, I place my feet on the floor and test out my ankle. Definite improvement. I push myself out of bed and head toward the bathroom before I remember I’m still not wearing any panties. The idea of going back into that room has nausea clawing up my throat.

Antonio still lies on the bed, watching me from the corner of his eye. It occurs to me that this robe only reaches about mid-thigh and from his angle, he just might be able to see— I move further away from the bed and yank on the hem, making sure it completely covers my ass. Then I turn back at the doorway of the bathroom, steeling my resolve. “Can you grab me some clothes?” I tick my head toward my old bedroom, praying he doesn’t question the favor.

Propping his head up on his palm, that piercing stare rakes over me, as if he can somehow read the truth I’m not ready to give. A long minute later, his head dips. Before I disappear into the bathroom, I call out over my shoulder, “Don’t forget a bra and panties.”

I catch the shock in his expression, his mouth parting, eyes widening, just before I close the door behind me, and it’s oddly satisfying. Clearly, this man has never had a live-in girlfriend. That too, I find oddly satisfying.

When I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes later, faced wash and hair slightly less wild, Antonio stands beside the bedstaring at a pile of clothes. “I didn’t know what you wanted to wear.”

“So you just dumped out the entire contents of the closet?”

He shrugs. “Cazzo, what the hell do I know?”

Yeah, this man has never had a serious relationship.

On top of the pile is an assortment of lace panties and bras, courtesy of the lovely Mariuccia. He’s staring at them like they might attack if he dares look away. Walking slowly so the limp isn’t that obvious, I rifle through the pile. Normally, I’d go for the cute, flirty sundresses, but for some reason, today I search for cozy sweats. And come up empty. Understandable, since it’s only the first week of September and the chilly autumn weather hasn’t quite settled in yet.

“What’s wrong?” He eyes me from across the bed.

“I don’t know… I just wanted something else.”

“I brought you everything Mariuccia bought.”

My arms curl around my middle, a sudden chill prickling the tiny hairs on my flesh. “I know, and normally, I’d be all about it. I just don’t feel like wearing a dress today, okay?”

Antonio’s expression darkens, and something like understanding flashes across those bottomless midnight irises. He spins around and marches toward his closet, then tosses me a sweatshirt. “It’ll be a little big on you, but it’s warm.”

I hug the soft cotton to my chest and the musky scent of amber and fresh lavender fills my nostrils. It’s warm and comforting and just what I needed. How the hell did he know?

“I have the sweatpants too, but they’ll definitely be too big on you.”

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