Page 3 of Legacy (The Sovereigns #2)

Out here, the stars feel closer, less distant, more alive. I kick off my heels and sigh with relief as my bare feet press against the smooth stone floor.

For a moment, everything is still.

Then the glass door slides open behind me.

I freeze, certain it’s Luciano again, ready to scold me like I’m five. But then I catch the scent—warm and dark and a little dangerous.

Spiced tobacco and something sweeter. Masculine.

Angelo.

I don’t turn around. I can feel him, his chest close behind me, radiating heat. His hands settle lightly on the balcony rail, bracketing mine. His breath grazes my ear, low and rich and unhurried.

“You smell sweet,” he murmurs, inhaling like he’s memorizing me. “Like cherries.”

Shivers erupt down my spine.

I turn to face him and immediately regret it, because he’s right there. His face is all sharp edges and midnight temptation, and under the moonlight, his gray eyes look almost silver. Softer, but no less intense.

His hand reaches up, brushing a loose curl behind my ear with such gentleness it makes my chest tighten. Then his finger hooks beneath my chin, lifting until I’m looking straight at him again.

“Scarlet,” he breathes, like he’s tasting the name. Like it belongs to him now.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he adds, a teasing smirk tugging at his mouth. “I won’t bite.”

I laugh softly, but it’s shaky, betrayed by the heat crawling into my cheeks. My skin feels too warm, my breath too shallow.

His thumb drags lightly across the curve of my lower lip, and the simple touch short-circuits everything in my brain .

“Are you always this forward?” I whisper, my voice trembling just enough to betray me. I want it to sound like a challenge, but it comes out softer, more curious. Like part of me wants the answer.

He chuckles, low and warm, the sound rumbling straight through my chest. “Only when I see something I like.”

His hand leaves my cheek to rest on my waist, resting there like he has every right to touch me. My breath catches as he draws me closer, until there’s no space left between us.

“And what makes you think you can have what you like?” I ask, but it doesn’t sound daring. Not really. It sounds like a question I already know the answer to.

His grin deepens, eyes glinting with heat and something darker. “I believe everyone has the right to pursue what they desire,” he says, fingers now tracing lazy, featherlight circles on my lower back. It’s such a gentle touch for a man who feels like danger.

The air is charged, thick and trembling—like the second before lightning strikes. My pulse thunders in my ears, and I can’t tell if I’m lightheaded from the nearness of him or the smoky bite of tobacco layered with something like bergamot and sin… probably both.

“Dance with me,” he says suddenly.

I blink, caught off guard, glancing at my heels discarded nearby. “Barefoot?”

“Why not?” His eyes don’t waver. Not once.

I nod, and his arms slide around me, pulling me into him until our bodies are aligned in a slow, subtle rhythm. The music from inside drifts out to us, soft and dreamlike. The cool tile beneath my feet grounds me, but nothing about this moment feels real.

We sway like we’ve done this a thousand times. Like we belong in this quiet corner of the night. Our bodies a whisper from each other, but it feels intimate in a way that makes my heart stutter. His gaze never leaves mine, and there’s something in it that’s both promise and warning.

He could ruin me, I think .

And I don’t step away.

“Can you feel it, Scarlet?” he asks, his voice a quiet command that slices through the silence.

“Feel what?” I murmur, trying to keep my balance; on my feet, in my head, everywhere.

His eyes darken, just a fraction. “The connection between us.”

His arms tighten slightly, drawing me closer. I feel his breath against my temple, his presence wrapping around me like velvet and smoke. “I can,” he continues. “It’s almost… tangible.”

A shiver ripples through me, and I hate that he notices. Or maybe I don’t.

Because he’s right.

I feel it too.

I nod, barely, because words would betray too much.

His smile is softer this time, touched with satisfaction as his hand lifts to cup my cheek. His thumb brushes gently across my skin.

“Good,” he murmurs.

Then, quietly, like it’s the most natural question in the world:

“Do you want to get out of here?”

My heart thumps wildly in my chest, every beat screaming this is insane.

I can’t just leave with a stranger. A handsome stranger, sure. But still a stranger. He’s older, definitely, probably some polished political wannabe if he’s even allowed at this party. And if he really knew who I was? He’d be running in the other direction.

No one wants Adriana Castillo.

Not really.

Because wanting me means wanting all of me—the last name, the whispers, the blood that comes with it.

It means dealing with the cartel. With my family.

But maybe tonight… just tonight…

I get to be Scarlet .

Anonymous. Reckless. Free.

“I’m going to need words.”

“Yes,” I breathe out.

Angelo’s smile curves, slow and sure, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

He grabs my heels in one hand and takes my hand in the other, pulling me back through the ballroom; not toward the main exit, but to a side door.

We slip into a stairwell lit by buzzing fluorescents, our footsteps echoing as we move down the emergency stairs.

Goosebumps scatter across my skin. Every instinct tells me this isn’t safe. This is stupid. This is how girls disappear.

But then again—when else will I get to do something a little bad?

Something that’s mine.

So I don’t stop him.

I let him take me away, leaving the chandeliers and whispered gossip behind.

The cool night air wraps around us the moment we step outside.

My lungs expand like I can finally breathe again.

Parked just beyond the valet loop is a black Ferrari, sleek and gleaming under the moonlight like temptation painted in midnight.

He opens the passenger door for me with an elegant little flourish, and I slide inside, the plush leather hugging my body like a secret.

He moves around to the driver’s side and climbs in, the engine roaring to life with a low, delicious growl.

As we pull away from the party, the city lights blur past us in gold streaks. My mind spins. I don’t even know this man. This is the kind of thing my friends would freak out about. The kind of thing that makes the news in all the wrong ways.

This is how girls get hurt.

And yet...

He reaches across the center console, his fingers brushing mine before gently taking my hand. His thumb moves in slow, steady circles over my knuckles. Warm. Calming .

“You’re safe with me,” he says softly, like he’s reading my panic straight off my skin. His voice is gentle, but there’s no question in it, just quiet certainty.

I swallow hard and nod, even though every nerve in my body still buzzes. And yet… I believe him.

He doesn’t look at me. Just keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for trusting me.”

And the strangest thing is… I do.

I trust him.

Or maybe I trust the version of me I get to be with him.

We drive for a while until the city gives way to quieter streets. Then, at the very edge of town, he pulls up to what looks like an old two-story industrial warehouse. For a moment I hesitate, but when his hand grips mine and his smile defuses my nerves I let him guide me inside.

And inside…up the staircase everything shifts.

It’s stunning.

Warm lighting spills across exposed brick walls and high-beamed ceilings.

The open layout is all shadows and softness, art I don’t recognize hanging beside sleek furniture in dark leather and velvet.

A scent lingers in the air— cedar, smoke, something like him —wrapping around me like a blanket I didn’t know I needed.

It’s everything I didn’t expect.

And all I can think is—I want to stay.