Page 52 of Bitter Prince

“I know this city inside and out,” was all he said, his shoulders tense.

“I thought the Leone family stuck to their own territory.” I didn’t know why I said it. I could only blame the sudden rush of anxiety shooting through me.

“You know who owns which territories?” There was an edge to Amon’s tone, his gaze heavy with all the secrets I wanted to learn.

“I do.”

“Your father tell you?” I scoffed, my answer clear on my face. “Then how?”

“I have my ways,” I cooed. I saw a bitter expression cross his beautiful face and wondered what was going through his mind. I sighed, suddenly feeling tired. “I got into his phone once,” I admitted. “There was an email that appeared on the screen and I didn’t think—I just read it.”

He cocked his eyebrow. “An email?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. It talked about territories in Italy. Something about five Italian families and Papà expanding his territory.”

His expression turned dark. Ominous. The tension was so palpable I could taste it. I wondered if my snooping around my father’s things set it off, or if it was what I’d said?

My eyes darted down the empty alley we’d come from. It looked like an abandoned piece of land in the middle of a crowded city.

The silence stretched until I finally had enough. I took a step to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.

“Stay with me.” It wasn’t a demand, but it wasn’t a suggestion either. And like a flower needing the sun, I stayed.

My wrist still in his grip, we watched one another in silence while something hot unraveled inside me.

“By the way, thank you,” I murmured.

He turned his head toward me, and the look in his eyes was thoughtful but also tinged with something so profound my heartbeat tripped over itself.

“For what?”

“The nightclub.” I let out a shallow breath. Around him, I felt like a much younger schoolgirl, falling for a boy. Or maybe this was fate, something inevitable brewing since our first meeting twelve years ago. “I never thanked you.”

He watched me with a hooded expression and my pulse fluttered wildly.

He brushed his thumb over a vein on my wrist, and I wondered if he could feel how it raced. I couldn’t stop drinking him in. How his clothes molded his thick arms and chest. His narrow waist. Every inch of him seemed hard and formidable. It was never something that appealed to me before, and I suspected it’d only be this way with him. A curious impulse yearned for me to run my hand down every inch of his body and find out if it was as sculpted as it looked, despite my inexperience. This pull in his direction threatened to bubble over like a pot of water over high heat.

“You staying here for the summer?” he asked as a warm breeze swept up the narrow canal.

I pulled my wrist—albeit reluctantly—out of his grip. “No, just a few days, then I’m going back to Paris. I’m taking a summer class.”

“High school summer class?”

“No, college class.” When he raised his eyebrow, I explained, “I skipped two grades so I could go to college with my sister.” Then because I couldn’t resist, I added, “I might not be eighteen quite yet, but I assure you, I’m not a silly girl.”

I desperately wanted him to see me as older and responsible. I didn’t know if my goal was achieved because only dark amusement ghosted through his gaze.

“I can’t decide whether you’re a rebel or a good girl.”

I looked up at the blue skies that seemed darker where we stood, surrounded by dampness along the water.

“Maybe I’m both,” I said softly, meeting his gaze again. I flushed, every inch of my skin growing hot. I had never admitted out loud that darkness appealed to me as much as the light. Maybe we were all a little of both.

“Come here.” Something soft and spellbinding wove through his deep voice, pulling me into his web. Or maybe I’d been there all along and hadn’t recognized it.

And like a moth to a flame—knowing full well my wings would ignite—I took a step. His hands came to rest on my waist, his grip tightening as he pulled me closer until my cheek brushed his chest.

I bit my lower lip, nerves dancing and wreaking havoc in the pit of my stomach. His eyes dropped to my mouth and warmth poured through my body.