Page 31 of Savage Devotion

I don't answer right away, because… well, for weeks, Francesca has been my captive, my possession, my... what?

But now, the lines have blurred since the night she tried to kill me, since I tasted her on my tongue and felt her surrender beneath my hands.

Before I can answer, a movement on one of the security monitors catches my eye.

Francesca has moved to the kitchen. She's engaged in quiet conversation with Elise. My head of household staff nods as my captive gestures toward something out of frame, her expression animated for once rather than guarded.

Something tightens in my chest at the sight of her.

"Sir?" Marco prompts, following my gaze to the monitor. "What's wrong?"

"She comes with us," I say, the decision made as I watch her lips curve into a genuine smile at something Elise says. "It's time the world meets my queen."

Marco raises an eyebrow but knows better than to question me. "I'll make the necessary arrangements." He pauses before adding, "What about her security?"

I turn from the screen, fixing him with a cold stare. "She stays within my sight at all times. If she runs, you find her. If anyone touches her, you kill them. Is that clear enough?"

"Perfectly clear, sir."

After Marco leaves, I continue watching Francesca on the monitor. She moves through my kitchen with increasingconfidence, no longer a frightened captive but something more dangerous.

Something like a woman finding her place in my world.

***

"You're taking me to Paris?" Francesca repeats, disbelief evident in her voice.

She stands before me in my office, where I've summoned her to hear the news.

"The Masquerade Noir," I explain, watching her reaction carefully. "It's a gathering of... our world. People like your father. Like me."

"I know what it is," she says sharply, eyes almost like daggers. "I've attended twice before. Once in Vienna, once in Prague."

Of course she has.

Antonio Castellano would have paraded his beautiful daughter at such events, showcasing the asset he'd been grooming for eventual sale.

"Then you understand its importance," I continue, stepping closer to her. "This will be your first public appearance as mine."

Her lips part, the word suspended in the air like smoke. The muscles in her jaw flex beneath her skin, a subtle ripple of tension, but she holds steady as my fingertips drift toward her. I catch a wayward strand of hair, silken against my skin, and tuck it behind her ear.

"As yours," she acknowledges, neither acceptance nor defiance coloring the words. Just fact. "What exactly does that entail?"

"You will be by my side throughout the event. You will be gracious, charming, and perfectly behaved." I let my fingers trail down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my touch. "You will show the world that Dante Ravelli has claimed what rightfully belongs to him."

"And if I refuse?" she challenges, her golden eyes locked with mine.

I smile, knowing she's too intelligent to truly refuse. "Then you remain locked in this penthouse while I attend alone. And when I return, there will be... consequences."

She weighs her options, the calculations visible behind those clever eyes. "Wouldn't it be safer to leave me here? I'm a liability in public. A potential escape risk."

"Are you?" I ask softly, circling behind her, my chest nearly touching her back. "Are you still planning to escape me, Francesca?"

Her breathing quickens, but she doesn't answer. She doesn't need to. We both know something has changed between us… something neither of us can name, or maybe we don't want to yet.

"Or perhaps," I continue, my lips close to her ear, "you're concerned for my safety. Worried someone might recognize the Castellano princess and use her against me."

A small shudder runs through her, whether from my proximity or my accuracy, I can't tell.

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