Page 53 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

I've never dried my hair faster in my life.

I'm still towel-wrapped, freshly scrubbed, lotion-slathered, and about three seconds from putting on one of my new negligees when I hear it.

A faint thump, but it's not coming from the hall. I draw my brows together, trying to figure out where it's coming from. I'm not scared; there are too many guards around to be worried. But Shadow growls quietly from his kennel.

Then I realize it's coming from the balcony. I freeze, and my heart kicks into overdrive. Shadow growls louder. The doors are still open. It's probably? —

Another scrape . My heart leaps into my throat as I spin toward the balcony and nearly die on the spot.

Enrico is hauling himself up over the iron railing.

His flexing muscles give me a delicious rush, and his black shirt clings to him like a second skin.

His hair's a little mussed, and his expression is focused on me, entirely unrepentant.

Dio mio, I thought he was joking when he said to keep the balcony open.

We're three stories up.

"Are you insane?" I gasp, stumbling to the balcony doors, hands flying to my mouth. "I thought you were joking! I left the door open, you lunatic!"

He swings a leg over, then the other, and lands with silent grace, like this is something he does all the time.

"Enrico!"

He doesn't say a word. Just strides forward, hair windswept, shirt half-untucked, jaw shadowed, and eyes blazing. He looks like a pirate straight out of one of those old movies: dangerous, wind-blown, impossibly handsome.

So handsome, it steals the breath from my lungs. Then he grabs me around the waist and kisses me like the world is ending.

I gasp into his mouth. He is devouring me like he's starving. His hands are everywhere, my hips, my back, one sliding up into my damp hair, gripping, pulling me closer.

He tastes like scotch and salt and Enrico; he's addictive. When he finally lets me breathe, my lips are swollen, and I'm half-laughing, too breathless to scold any longer.

"Finally. I thought my dad was going to keep me hostage all night." He complains.

I press my hands to his chest, feeling the hard thump of his heart through the thin fabric. "And you climbed three stories?"

"I told you," he murmurs, brushing his mouth over mine again, "I'd scale heaven or hell to get to you."

I melt. Right there. Right into his arms, into his heat, into everything that is this impossible, dangerous, perfect man who makes the world fall away with a single kiss. He pulls back just enough to look at me. Really look at me. His eyes sweep over every inch, dark and intent.

"You look ravishing." His voice is so hoarse, it sends goosebumps down my spine.

But then something flickers in his expression. A shift. Not quite guilt, but close—concern, maybe. Sobered, certainly. His hand drifts down my back, gentler now. "Are you… sore?"

I nod with heating cheeks. "A bit."

His jaw clenches, and for a second, I think he's going to scold himself or me. Instead, he kisses my forehead, my temple, my cheek, each one softer than the last.

"I'll be good," he murmurs. "Tonight, I'll just hold you."

Oh hell—I'm getting too used to cursing—can he be any more perfect?

Out of nowhere, a black blur launches across the room.

"Shadow—wait!"

But it's too late.

The puppy charges, full tilt, and sinks his teeth into Enrico's calf with a growl that belongs to a much larger animal. There's a loud rip as expensive fabric gives way beneath razor-sharp teeth.

"Merda!" Enrico snarls, jerking back, but the dog is latched on like a furry demon.

"Shadow!" I shout, grabbing his collar. "Let go! Let—Shadow, no!"

It takes everything I have to pry him off, twisting to wrestle him toward his crate. He's still growling, tail stiff, eyes locked on Enrico like he's the devil incarnate.

"In," I hiss, shoving the crate door closed. Shadow barks once, sharp and proud, like he won something. I spin around, panting, and freeze.

Enrico's standing there, one hand braced on the wall, blood seeping through a jagged tear in his pants. "Oh my God, you're bleeding!"

He glares at the crate, jaw clenched, voice low and deadly. "There is something genetically wrong with that mutt."

I rush to him. "Please don't hurt him."

Enrico's eyes snap to mine, stunned. "Hurt him ? Piccolina, I'm not worried about the runt. I'm worried about what he might do to you. "

"He would never hurt me," I say quickly, kneeling to assess the damage. "He hasn't hurt anyone else. Just…" I trail off as I dab at the cut with a tissue. "Only you."

Enrico raises a brow. "Comforting."

"He's just… protective."

"So am I," he mutters darkly, flinching slightly as I clean the gash. "And unlike him, I wear a gun . "

I choke on a laugh, even as I wince at the size of the bite. "This might need stitches."

"Great," he deadpans. "Romantic night of holding you turns into a tetanus shot and dog whisperer therapy."

I press gauze gently to the wound. "Maybe Shadow senses your, um… dominant energy."

He gives me a look. "You mean my presence. "

"I mean your you-are-mine-and-I-own-the-moon energy." I glance at him, biting my lip. "It's a lot."

Then a sobering thought hits me, "Still think I'm worth the trouble?"

He leans down and kisses the top of my head, "Every damn drop of blood."

I finish wrapping the bandage around his calf, tucking in the last edge neatly. "There. It's not pretty, but it'll hold."

He flexes his leg, winces, then grins. "You're good at this."

"I've had a lot of practice with stuffed animals," I laugh, remembering the toy first aid kit Camilla let me play with for a while until she realized I really enjoyed it.

He leans down and kisses my temple. "I'm going to grab fresh clothes for the morning. Be right back."

My heart skips. "Okay."

He steps out, through the door this time, and I leave it half open behind him. A silent invitation. My whole body hums, already missing his hands, his mouth, the way his eyes get heavy when they look at me. I lean against the wall, impatiently waiting for the sound of his returning footsteps.

But that's not what I hear.

"Mamma," Enrico exclaims, with just a hint of alarm. "You're up late."

"I could say the same to you." Her tone is pure steel. "And don't think I don't know what you're up to, figlio mio . "

"Mamma…"

"No funny business in my house."

There's a pause. I imagine him trying not to groan aloud.

"I know your tricks," she continues. "I've known them since you were sneaking girls in through the back garden at fifteen. Don't forget who raised you." I giggle, but at the same time, a rush of jealousy moves through me. Fifteen?

"Mamma, this is different."

"Is it?" Her voice tightens. "Because unless you want your fiancée's entire family thinking we raised a barbarian, I suggest you keep it in your pants until after the wedding."

Another pause. Then, Enrico's muffled voice, "I suppose asking for a little privacy is out of the question."

"Completely. I've got Conrad stationed by the lattice under Cat's balcony. You try to climb that again, and he'll shoot you in the ass. "

I push my fist against my mouth to muffle a hard snort that's climbing up my throat.

"And if I have to," Eliza adds dramatically, "I will sleep in front of Catalina's door for the next three months. Don't test me."

"I wasn't going to test you."

"You already did, tesoro . Now go to your room. Cold shower. Say your prayers. And dream about vows." Eliza orders. I can't breathe, I'm stifling my laughter so hard. My shoulders shake as I listen to the sound of retreating footsteps.

A moment later, my phone buzzes.

Enrico:

I've been cockblocked by my own mother.

I might marry you just for revenge.

I grin so hard it hurts. My heart flutters, full and aching.

Me:

Sleep tight, fiancée.

Enrico:

Three months. She's not keeping me from you for three months.

Me:

Think she'll hire a chaperone?

Enrico:

You're laughing. This is not funny. This is SERIOUS.

I close the door and lie in my bed, my now lonelier bed.

Me:

You think she's really still in the hallway?

Enrico:

Probably, why?

Me:

e could meet in the kitchen…

Enrico:

Oh, you are a naughty girl…

I creep down the hallway, my bare feet are silent on the cool tile, my heart is thudding erratically with every step that takes me closer to Enrico.

The house is quiet—eerily so—but not in the way that used to set me on edge.

This isn't like sneaking around the Giordanos' estate, terrified of being seen or heard.

The last time I tiptoed through a house like this, I was a shadow trying not to exist. Tonight, I'm something entirely different: a fiancée—a girl in love.

A small giggle escapes me at the thought of us being engaged.

The butterflies in my stomach flutter harder with each step. It's so nice to feel a different thrill than fear. Knowing he is waiting for me, just as desperate, just as eager as I am.

This might be a little reckless, but it's so worth it.

The kitchen glows softly from the under-counter lights. And then I see him. My heart skips a beat. It's only been minutes since I last laid eyes on him, but it could have been an eternity for the reaction my body is having towards him. Violent, all-consuming, impossible to hide.

He's leaning one hip against the counter. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his thickly veined forearms. The kitchen lighting glints off his dark hair and sharp jawline, painting him in gold and shadow.

A pirate, I think again. That's what he looks like.

All danger and dark charm, a man who pillages hearts instead of ships.

His gaze lifts the second I step into the room, and the way he looks at me, slow and possessive, from my bare legs to the slight rise and fall of my chest, makes every nerve ending in my body spark to life.

"Cat," his voice is hoarse, my name coming off his tongue like a prayer, a call, a desperate tether to something he needs more than breath.