Page 39 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

I stare at my reflection for the fifth—no, sixth—time.

The woman in the mirror almost doesn't look like me.

The dress is a deep emerald green, sleek and simple, but it hugs in all the right places.

I chose it because it makes my eyes look like a blend of amber and gold.

I swipe my lip gloss one more time, then step back to check the whole picture.

My dark brown hair is curled in soft waves. I kept the makeup subtle, but enhanced my eyes with eyeliner and mascara, the kind I used to dream about wearing when I only had one old mascara and a broken compact. Everything on the vanity is new. Unused. Mine.

Even the butterflies in my stomach are mine tonight.

Because Enrico asked me on a date. Well, not really asked. He sent me a text. I giggle, like I've done a hundred times since the text arrived.

Enrico:

I'm taking you to dinner tonight. Be ready.

A date!

No matter how he asked, or not, I would have said yes.

I'm not at all concerned about how it came to pass.

That's just him. Bossy. And oh, so sexy.

My cheeks burn when I recall the things he said to me in the lake.

The things I said to him. At the same time, the flutter in my stomach comes back, and I can feel my panties soaking, just at the memory.

I kind of have an inkling that the words we said were dirty and naughty—wicked, even—but I can't feel embarrassed about it; it felt too good.

In a way, I'm glad he didn't ask me in person, because it would have completely unraveled my nerves. I would have been a stammering mess.

A knock on the door makes me jump, and Shadow growls from the corner. Quickly, I smooth the dress over my hips and take a deep breath before opening the door.

Enrico stands on the threshold, wearing a black suit with the collar of his white shirt open, no tie. Effortlessly lethal. He doesn't smile right away, but the way his eyes travel over me—from head to toe and back again—says more than words ever could.

He exhales once and says one word, "Stunning."

My cheeks flush hot. "Thank you. You look…" I falter, because ridiculously handsome sounds too soft for the way he makes me feel. "You look like trouble."

His smirk is slow and dangerous to my heart and ovaries. "Only the good kind, Piccolina."

Shadow's ears perk up behind me, and he trots to the door, only to immediately growl the second he sees Enrico. Enrico sighs. "We're going to have to renegotiate our truce."

I laugh under my breath, giving Shadow a soft pat. "He'll behave. Eventually."

"‘Eventually' better be soon," Enrico mutters, stepping back to let me out and leading me down the stairs.

I hear soft voices and loud giggling from the dining room.

Guilt hits me. I should be in there, with my family.

They've been trying so hard to include me, whereas I feel like I've been rolling up in a ball, doing everything I can to keep them at bay.

"Don't." Enrico takes my hand, presses it, guessing once again where my mind went.

Thankfully, the sight of his Hummer parked just past the fountain turns my mind away from my family. The thing is matte black, hulking and sleek—like a predator crouched and ready to pounce. It looks like it could survive a war and win, just like Enrico.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to you driving a tank."

He grins. "You approve?"

"It looks like something from the military." I can't help but express.

He opens the passenger door for me. "Wait until you see the inside."

I climb in and sink into buttery leather seats that hug my body like a glove.

The last time I was in here, Manollo had been driving, and I wasn't exactly in the headspace to appreciate the Hummer's sleek interior.

Rugged and military-grade on the outside, but inside, it's all luxury and cutting-edge tech.

The interior smells of expensive cologne and brand-new power.

Every inch gleams. It's not cold or military at all; it's warm, opulent, and quiet.

Suddenly, the nerves in my stomach twist into something else: Anticipation. Adventure. Desire.

I glance at him as he closes my door and rounds the front to get in beside me. This is really happening. I'm on a date. With Enrico Sartori!

He climbs in beside me, settling into the driver's seat like a king returning to his throne.

He places one hand on the wheel, and the other reaches calmly forward to hit a button that lowers the ambient lighting.

A soft, golden glow pools along the floorboards and consoles, making everything look as though it's dipped in honey.

Enrico glances at me, and my pulse leaps. His black eyes gleam in the low light. "Nervous?"

"A little."

He chuckles, amused. "Don't be. We're only going to dinner."

Easy for him to say. He's made of stone and steel and all things solid. I'm… fluttering.

"Besides," he adds, pulling onto the drive, "you're with me. Nothing's going to happen that I don't want to happen."

I look at him then. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"It should be." His lips tug into a crooked smile. "Because what I want tonight is for you to relax. Eat. Smile. Maybe let me kiss those beautiful lips when no one's watching."

"Just there?" I ask, trying to sound teasing. "You can kiss me anywhere… if no one's watching."

The words tumble out before I can stop them.

Oh God. My heart lunges into my throat. A million warning bells go off.

I should be mortified—but I'm not. Not completely.

Part of me wants to stuff the words back into my mouth and pretend they never happened.

But the other part? The stronger part? Meant every syllable.

A shiver rolls through me at the thought of his mouth, his hands, moving lower. Exploring. Claiming. My thighs press together instinctively, and I throw him a glance from under my lashes, trying to gauge his reaction. But deep down, I know: I want him thinking about it.

More than that, I want it to become more than a thought.

I sit straighter. Pulling my chin high. I'm breathless, but certain, I won't take the words back. I want this. I want him .

Even if he wrecks me in the process.

The first thing I notice is how his knuckles are tightening slightly on the wheel.

The second is the way his jaw flexes, the muscle ticking like he's working to stay in control.

His eyes stay forward, but something changes in the air between us, becomes thicker and hotter.

Like a live current just snapped into place.

He doesn't say anything right away, and the silence is suddenly loaded.

Tense. Electric. Then, slowly—deliberately—his hand slides from the steering wheel to rest on the center console, his fingers drum once before they still.

"You have no idea what you just did," he says at last, keeping his voice low, rough, and full of heat. "But you will."

My breath catches. I turn to look at him, but his eyes stay fixed on the road, as if he knows that if he so much as glances at me, he'll pull over and make good on the promise simmering beneath his words.

My whole body feels like a live wire—too hot, too aware. My pulse drums. Then, finally, he shifts his gaze, just for a second. His black eyes are dark and intense, filled with a possessiveness that constricts my throat and makes my heart beat even faster.

God help me… I feel it between my legs.

I swallow hard. My voice is a whisper when it comes. "What if I want to know?"

His mouth curves slowly, dangerously. "Oh, Piccolina ," he murmurs. "You're going to learn."

I don't know how to reply. This is as far as my daring nature dares to go right now. Silence engulfs us. I wish I knew what he's thinking, but when his hand lands on my upper thigh, all thoughts disappear, and I just relish the moment of being near him.

Outside the gates, the city waits, louder, faster, more chaotic than the world I've lived in for the last few years.

But inside this vehicle, with Enrico next to me, I feel…

safe. I feel like maybe I really am the kind of girl who gets taken on real dates.

Who wears real makeup. Who gets kissed under the stars.

His fingers draw lazy circles on my thigh, reminding me so much of his thumb on my clit that… Dio mio, if he doesn't stop, I'm going to pant in half a second. The feeling is so intense, I have to grab his hand and interlace our fingers to make him stop.

A knowing smile curves arrogantly around his mouth, slow and devastating. The kind of smile that says I know exactly what I'm doing to you.

His strong jaw is dusted with a five o'clock shadow that only sharpens the already unfair symmetry of his face.

The dim light from the dash, mingling with the flickering headlights of passing cars, casts his features in shifting shadows—cutting cheekbones, a regal nose, that mouth designed to ruin good intentions.

God, he's so handsome it almost hurts to look at him.

There's something about the way he carries it, too.

He looks like the gods carved him from something ancient and merciless.

And yet, right now, he's relaxed. Confident.

Watching me through his lashes like he already owns every thought in my head.

Which he does. My breath snags. My pulse trips. I can't tear my eyes away.

Maybe tonight, I'll let myself believe this is more than a dream. Maybe tonight, I'll be brave enough to want everything.