Page 44 of Dangerous King
He's like gravity. Heavy. Pulling everything around him into his orbit, including me. I don't trust him. But I feelsafenear him. Like if the world ends again tomorrow, he'll still be standing, and he'll keep me upright, too.
It's too much. I'm full. I'm overwhelmed. I'm alive.
Also... Eliza looked at my Pinterest board like it was art, complimenting me, saying I had taste and talent. That maybe we could redesign a guest room into a studio. All that stirred that elusive feeling, hope, again. Hope that maybe—somehow—this chaos could lead to something beautiful. There might still be a chance for me to become a stylist. That I don't have to give up that part of me.
I feel like I'm spinning.
I talked to my family today. More bees swarm my head with voices of the people I haven't seen or held in too long. Parts of our conversation float through my mind, and then it's right back to the mall, to the sound of an explosion.
Right back to Enrico pulling me down.
I hadn't felt it then. Not really. Too much was happening at once, but now, lying in bed, I can still feel his warm body pressed against mine. Protective. When was the last time someone protected me?
The scent of his cologne still lingers with me, heavy, heady, sharp like him. And with that, I know that sleep won't find me anytime soon. With a defeated sigh, I get up. Moonlight streams in through the open balcony door, bringing a soft breeze that cools the air just enough, and I reach for the bathrobe Eliza gave me earlier.
I step out on the balcony, which overlooks a sprawling, parklike backyard. A glistening lake with a private dock lies not even a mile from the house. It's not the ocean I'm used to from when I was a kid, but it's a large body of water, and it's beckoning me. Maybe if I sit on the dock and put my feet in the water, it'll settle my mind.
From my balcony, I see that the pathway toward it is lit, lined on both sides by small torches, starting from behind the massive pool with built-in jacuzzi. To the left is a tennis court, and to the right a basketball court. The rest of the several acres of land look like they're made up of some kind of forest, with dimly lit pathways.
I would love to explore the grounds more during the daytime, when I can see, but at the same time, I wonder why they would have so many trees; I'd think they'd make it easier for an intruder to fade away, at least until I hear a sharp bark. Several German Shepherds rush out, followed by a man. Even from up here, in the dark, his silhouette is unmistakable. Enrico.
My hand flies to my chest, and my breath halts for a few moments as I take in his handsome body. The dogs gatheraround him, clearly excited about something. Without meaning to, I fade back deeper into the shadows of the balcony so that he won't see me, but I can still see him. I don't think I'll ever get tired of staring at him.
He's not wearing the three-piece suit I've come to expect him in, but a pair of black joggers and a black shirt that fits him like a glove. From here, I can't make out all the details of the muscles I felt earlier when he tackled me to the ground, but I can bathe in the sight of his V-shaped body. His shoulders are so incredibly wide, bringing back the sensation of being so safe, despite the bullets flying around us.
He stops at a wide, circular-shaped patch of grass, the dogs right on his heels.
"Sit," he commands, and all six of the dogs obey as one. His voice is so deep and commanding that it carries all the way to the balcony on the second floor.
"Stay!" He orders.
He retrieves something from his pants pocket, which looks like an awkward move since he's using his left hand. Whatever he pulled out, the dogs seem clearly excited about it, but none of them move.
"Ready?" His voice is strong enough to drift up to where I'm standing. I watch him lift a ball high into the air and move into a pitching position.
He's still half in shadow, but I can make out how the fabric of his pants clings to his muscular thighs, a view that is way too distracting. Heat pools low in my belly, slow and unfamiliar, as if my body knows something my brain hasn't caught up with yet. But I know I shouldn't feel this way. Most of all, not about him.He's too old, at least ten years my senior. Too serious. Too… powerful. He is a man that people follow without question, a man who decides who lives and who doesn't.
A man who'd never want someone like me. I'm nineteen. I've never even been kissed. I don't know what I'm doing, and he… he probably knowseverything.
But none of that seems to matter. Not when he's this close. Not when just looking at him makes my skin feel too tight and my thoughts get scrambled. My body seems to react to him automatically, and most concerningly, so does my mind. I begin to wonder what it would feel like if he touched me,reallytouched me. The way a man touches a woman. At that, a pleasurable tremor moves through me that leaves me longing even more.
He throws the ball. I'm not a baseball fan by any stretch of the imagination, but even I know that this throw is not an ordinary one.
"Go!"
The dogs rush forward as one, past him, as he watches them while I watch him. It's too dark and I'm too far to see his expression, but something about the way he holds himself and how the dogs are acting suggests this is a normal routine. Plus, the Shepherds will keep anybody out of the yard. Answering my earlier questions about why the Sartori family would have so many trees on their property. The German Shepherds probably roam the property, just like the Dobermans did at the Giordanos.
Dogs, too, are something I have never really contemplated before. Giovanni had his Dobermans, and I fed them treats hereand there, but there is something utterly spellbinding about the way the Shepherds are running. Something lithe and feral. And then I know why I like them, because they remind me of Enrico. He, too, moves with a grace belying his size.
One of the dogs comes running back, proudly holding the ball between his teeth. His tongue is lolling out sideways, and he looks so funny and adorable that I can't stop a small laugh from escaping me.
The sound must have been too loud, loud enough to make the Shepherd's ears perk up, and so does Enrico, as he searches the house for the cause of the noise.
There is a patio and pool between us; still, it feels as if our eyes lock.
"Cat?"
I step forward so he can see me better and wave. "I didn't mean to interrupt your playtime."
