Page 30 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

"I still can't believe that place was real," I gush while Izzy and I climb out of the sleek black SUV once we get back to the mansion. She adjusts the strap of the purse she liberated from the mall shooting, which seems to have become her favorite possession.

She laughs, looping her arm through mine. "Welcome to Maison étoile , bella . Where reality gets a designer upgrade."

"It costs a million dollars just to be a member," I say, still breathless. "A million . And the prices?—"

"—are only printed for the peasantry," she finishes with a smirk. "Which is why they don't bother putting them on anything."

I shake my head. The entire day has felt like a walk through a fever dream. Private elevators. Champagne while shopping. Dresses that cost more than my father's yearly salary. Yet, somehow, I walked out with enough shopping bags to match the GDP of a small country.

Under Izzy's gentle insistence and prodding, I added more things to my growing wardrobe than I felt comfortable with. But I also noticed that I didn't argue too hard. It was the most fun I've had… ever! So much so that I didn't think about my family, the Giordanos, or anybody else the entire time.

But now that I'm out of the marble-and-gold maze of excess, and my new belongings are carefully stowed away, I need air.

Apparently, so does Shadow. I picked him up from the kennel, where Julio kept a watchful eye on him, and he's been dancing around my feet ever since, making me stumble to avoid kicking him a few times.

"What do you think of your new dishes?" I ask, looking at the white and gold dishes, both of which say Shadow in hand-painted black letters.

He doesn't seem impressed with them. However, he seems happy that the new water bowl is nearly big enough for him to take a bath in.

Following that escapade, I deposit both in the bathroom, where it's easier to clean up the tiles.

Izzy excused herself a few minutes ago, loading up her own growing closet.

I pick up the new leash—Shadow wasn't impressed with his red collar either—and the puppy and I head outside toward the private park that is tucked behind the estate.

It's massive, like everything else that has anything to do with the Sartoris.

Like Enrico. The park and adjoining forest are quiet and, of course, walled.

Shaded by towering pines and dotted with wildflowers that look too perfect to be natural.

Shadow bounds ahead of me, sniffing the grass, his tail wagging. The moment I unclip the leash, he takes off in a blur of fur and joy. Instinctively, I laugh. The sound startles even me, and I freeze. It's the first real one I've let loose in… I don't know how long.

Maybe since I was a child.

I drop into the soft grass beneath a large oak tree, curl my knees to my chest, and watch Shadow chase butterflies.

He's untouched by trauma and uncaring for his healing stitches.

I should probably stop him, but I don't have the heart for it.

He seems too happy. Instead, I watch him and take heart from his free spirit, which reminds me of Izzy, and I wish I could be like that. Just forget and move on.

The silence here isn't threatening. It's calming.

Peaceful. And most of all, safe. Enough for me to let my guard down and let the past drift.

Whenever an unpleasant memory wants to break through, I take a deep breath and tilt my face up toward the sun.

Allowing the warmth of it to penetrate my body, heart, and mind.

I don't hear him. I feel him.

It's like a shift in the air. An awareness of his presence that crawls up the back of my neck like static.

I turn my head and open my eyes. I have to shield them to look up at the massive man, looming only a few feet away, dressed in black slacks, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a loose tie.

There's something uncharacteristically undone about him.

I can't quite put my finger on it. The rolled-up sleeves?

His wind-mussed hair? The missing jacket?

He stares down at me with an unreadable expression, eyes locked on me.

Shadow barks once, as if announcing the presence of royalty, then runs over to him. Fur and ears back, growling. Enrico bends, and Shadow goes for his hand.

"What the hell?" Enrico pulls back, and I suppress a snicker.

"Aggressive little runt, isn't he?" Enrico stares down at the dog, who is now tugging on his pant leg with his sharp puppy saber teeth.

Enrico jerks his leg back, staring at the small creature latched to the hem of his expensive slacks like he can't quite believe what's happening.

"That's a ten-thousand-dollar suit," he mutters, baffled.

Normally, I would be shocked at the thought of ten-thousand-dollar pants, but after today's shopping spree, I'm not sure I can call up the right amount of concern for the price tags the Sartoris treat like background noise.

Shadow growls louder, twenty pounds of menace vibrating through his fluff.

He's giving no indication of giving up or letting go.

Enrico straightens, muttering a personal attack on Shadow's entire bloodline in Italian. I can't help it; I burst into laughter. The sight of this tall, lethal man getting bested by a partially house-trained puppy in a bowtie collar is too much.

He shoots me a look. Not angry. Just… deeply, deeply offended.

"You find this funny?" He asks, lifting one dark brow.

"I find it hilarious," I giggle, hugging my knees tighter. "He's never attacked anyone before."

"That's comforting," Enrico says dryly. "I feed him, I house him, I let him piss on my imported rugs," he shakes his head in mock dramatics, "and this is how he thanks me?"

Shadow finally releases the pant leg and sits back, puffing up his little chest like a victor. He barks once and plants himself firmly between us, staring up at Enrico like he's still deciding whether or not to trust him.

"He's protective," he states, gazing at the puppy appreciatively. "He doesn't know who's safe yet."

He crouches in front of me, sending sensations through my nerve endings that make my skin tingle. His fingers gently brush a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. The gesture is soft, intimate, and makes my stomach flutter like millions of tiny bubbles were let loose, teasing my insides.

Shadow growls faintly in response.

Enrico holds out a hand. Palm up. Patient.

It takes a long moment, but eventually, Shadow sniffs it. Then, with exaggerated disdain, the puppy licks the edge of his palm and walks away like he's doing him a favor. Enrico watches him go, clearly torn between pride and humiliation.

"He's warming up to you," I offer.

"He bit me."

"A love bite," I tease.

He gives me a sideways glance, then rises from his crouch and brushes the grass off his slacks before finally sitting beside me under the tree.

He doesn't say anything right away. Just stretches his legs out, crosses them at the ankle, and rests his elbows on his knees.

The silence stretches between us, warm and pulsing.

Shadow lies down a few feet away, but his eyes stay locked on Enrico.

"He's still watching you," I whisper, amused.

"So are you," Enrico says, not looking at me.

My breath catches.

"I'm not sure which one of you is more dangerous," he adds, his voice lower now. Rougher.

"Definitely him," I murmur, even as my pulse starts to race.

"Maybe," Enrico says, turning his head. His gaze is heavy, like it presses straight through skin and bone. "But you're the one I can't stop thinking about."

The world stills around us. The air. The trees. Even Shadow, who lets out a sleepy sigh and rolls onto his back.

But me?

My heart is doing somersaults in my chest.

"You shouldn't say things like that," I whisper. My voice is unsteady because I've never had a man say things like that to me. Not one. Not ever.

Enrico leans in just enough to crowd my senses. Just enough to make the air between us thrum.

"I shouldn't want you either," he murmurs, his voice a low caress. "But here we are."

He takes a strand of my hair between his fingers and lets it slide through them, slow and deliberate.

"You're ten years younger than me," he says, almost to himself. "You've barely lived outside that house. And I'm not exactly safe."

I try to steady my breath, but it's useless. "I've never even been on a date," I admit, the words small but true.

That gets his attention. His eyes flick to mine, sharp, assessing, and… pained? He contemplates me like he's seeing me for the first time. Not as a curiosity. But as something rare and untouched.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. "Jesus, Piccolina."

I force a small, nervous laugh. "I guess I'm not very tempting after all."

He's deadly still for a second. Then he leans in, so close I feel the heat of his breath when he speaks.

"That's where you're wrong." His voice is rough, controlled—but barely. "You don't even know what you're doing to me. And that's the fucking problem."

My cheeks burn. My whole body feels strange, like I've stepped into a world I was only ever allowed to read about.

"But I trust you," I say softly. "I don't know why. I just do."

He closes his eyes for half a second like he's gathering himself. When he opens them again, they're darker than before. Hungrier. "Don't say that unless you mean it, because I'll take it. And I'll never give it back."

"I mean it," I whisper.

I do. Even if I don't know what comes next.

His breath touches my cheek. My lips. I freeze, not out of fear, but with anticipation so sharp it might break me open.

My heart has climbed into my throat, where it's hammering in a wild staccato.

Is this it? Is this the moment I will be kissed?

I've never done this before, never been kissed.

And with him? It seems too good to be true.

Suddenly, I want it more than I want to breathe.

He hesitates, just a beat. Giving me room. A chance to turn away, but I don't. My eyes are wide open; I want to see every second of this and commit it to memory forever. It's strange how hard my heart is pumping and how my breath is so slow and low.

It's soft at first. The brush of his lips against mine, so warm and steady.

They feel hot, but not burning. My entire body is coiled and flooded with the most delicious sensations I've ever experienced.

His hand comes up, cupping the back of my neck, and his thumb grazes my jaw as if I'm something precious.

I can't think. My whole body lights up. My skin tightens. My chest rises and falls in shallow bursts. I'm not completely na?ve. I've read books and watched movies. I know what to do. I part my lips, and his kiss deepens. Not too much. Just enough to taste me.

It's slow.

Careful.

Deliberate.

Like he knows this is the first time anyone's touched me like this, and he doesn't want to rush a second of it. I don't know where to put my hands, so I grab his shirt. My fingers curl into the fabric, anchoring me to him, to the Earth, because otherwise, I worry I might float away.

When he finally pulls back, I feel like I've run a mile. But better.

He searches my face, his own is set in an unreadable mask again, but his eyes, his eyes , are softer than I've ever seen them.

"Your first?" he asks quietly.

I nod, my breath caught between us. "Yes."

A flicker of something moves through his expression. It's not surprise or lust… it's satisfaction? That and pride, the quiet, smug kind a man wears when he's claimed something no one else ever has.

I don't fully understand it, but the heat in his eyes tells me he does.

"I won't rush you," he says, in a low voice. "But I'll warn you now, Piccolina…"

He leans in again, brushing his lips near my ear. "I'm not just the first man to taste your lips—I'll be the last. After this, you belong to me. No one touches what's mine."

My throat tightens. My stomach flips. Somewhere deep inside, where the fear used to live, a new feeling begins to bloom.

Hope.

Want.

Fire.

Shadow stirs, as if he senses the shift in me, and lets out a quiet huff before settling again. I press my fingers to my lips, still stunned by how soft his mouth felt on mine.

"I think I'm in trouble," I whisper.

Enrico gives a low chuckle, the kind that vibrates in my bones.

"You have no idea," he says.