Page 78 of Savage Prince

Toni lifts his eyes to mine, the pain clearly visible in the clench of his jaw and the deep furrow of his brow. “Grab the supplies from the boathouse, and I’ll get her ready to sail.”

“Yes, captain.” I bring my hand to my forehead in a salute, but all I get is a half-smile in return.

Damn, what has gotten into this man?

Even when he first captured me, he wasn’t this quiet. Sullen and angry? Yes. But this? This was ten times worse. He seems… sad. As I march back to the boathouse, I can’t help but analyze the last forty-eight hours.

Because I’m psychotic, my mind keeps going back to the mind-blowing sex and somehow, I lose my train of thought every time. Which reminds me, I’m supposed to be angry at him for withholding that last orgasm.

Okay enough, Serena, focus. Rifling through our remaining paltry supplies from the wooden cabinets, I fill the bag with the first aid kit, bottles of antibiotics and painkillers the gooddottoressaleft, and the remaining fruit. I’m shocked to find Antonio’s gun still lying on the counter. Either he’s certain I’m not a flight risk anymore, or he wants me to run and take his gun with me.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand this man.

Either way, I pocket the gun, then grab the bag with our measly supplies before saying a quick goodbye to our temporary home. “You weren’t much, girl, but I’llneverforget the sex. So thanks for that.”

“Are you talking to the boathouse?” Antonio’s voice echoes from behind me, and red-hot embarrassment races up my neck, blanketing my cheeks.

I spin around to find him propped against the doorframe, the ghost of a smile twitching at his lips.

“Did you just thank this pile of old wood for the incredible fuckIprovided?”

I force out a laugh, but it’s so fake it grates on my own ears. “Oh, you thought I was talking about you?” I shake my head and wave a dismissive hand. “Since you refused to let me come, I had to take matters into my own hands while you were asleep last night.”

The corner of his lip kicks up. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, and it was the best I’d ever had. I even came twice.”

“With me sleeping right next you?”

I nod because I’m just too far down this rabbit hole already to even try to get myself out. “Pain meds must have knocked you right out.”

Antonio creeps closer, smoldering dark gaze fixed to my mouth, then travels up to meet my eyes. He leans in so his lips are only a breath away and whispers, “Tesoro, I’d have to be dead not to wake up from the irresistible sounds that spill out of your mouth when you come.”

A chill skates up my spine at the rough edge to his tone. The way he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me has heat racing south.Dio, this man’s mood swings are making my head spin. First, he refuses to speak to me, and now, I’m not sure if he wants to fuck me or murder me.

Before I can string together a coherent thought, he spins on his heel and marches toward the door. “Let’s go,” he calls out over his shoulder, and finally, free of that hypnotic gaze, my feet begin to move.

This is going to be a long twenty-four hours.

Antonio’s master plan of navigating the boat north along Lago di Como instead of directly to Como which would be the most direct route to Milano, seems to have paid off. When we reach Bellagio, a smaller town along the lake a few hours later, the streets of the downtown are quiet.

It’s also almost midnight now, so not many tourists still linger along the banks of the quaint lakeside town. Still, Antonio circles for a few minutes, sharp eyes on the dimly lit shore before finally cutting the engine alongside a small dock.

“Are you ready?” His eyes chase to mine. It’s the most he’s said to me since that awkwardly hot moment back in the boathouse.

I hug the shopping bag to my chest and nod. The feel of Toni’s gun hidden beneath the waistband of my jeans gives me a sense of comfort I haven’t enjoyed in weeks. I noticed him eying it about an hour ago as we traversed the waves of the sleepy lake, but he never said a word.

“So what’s the plan exactly?”

The boat glides up beside the dock, and Antonio ties it to the wooden piling in an expert knot. “The plan is to find a car and drive the rest of the way into the city. At this hour of night, we should be back in Milano in just a little over an hour.”

“And by find a car, you mean steal one?”

He nods, the hint of a spark back in those midnight irises. “Exactly,tesoro.” Then he offers a hand, and I surprise myself at how easily my fingers wrap around his palm. He crosses the gap easily then turns back around to help me.

I’d been so worried about his wound, I’d forgotten all about my ankle. For the first time in days, it doesn’t hurt when I land on it. As if he’s remembered too, Antonio’s eyes meet mine, unease in those bottomless orbs.

“I’m fine. I can barely feel the sprain anymore.”

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