Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
I held perfectly still, heart racing—from the sudden movement or his proximity, I couldn't tell. His breath stirred my hair, warm against my neck. Through the thin material of my sweater, I could feel every plane of muscle pressed against my back.
The ocean settled back into its rhythm, but neither of us moved. My pulse pounded in my ears, every nerve ending alive to his touch. When his finger slowly dragged across my bottom lip, I couldn't stop the small sound that escaped.
"We should head back," he murmured, but his hand tightened at my waist.
"Should we?"
His forehead dropped to my shoulder, and I felt rather than heard his groan. "You're killing me, princess."
I turned in his arms, letting my hands rest on his chest. Even in the darkness, I could see how his pupils had dilated, the way his jaw clenched with restraint.
"Maybe I don't want clean goodbyes anymore either."
Something dangerous flared in his eyes. Slowly, he traced his thumb along my jaw, each touch deliberate, questioning. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, heavy with unspoken questions.
I answered by rising up on my toes, closing the last breath of space between us.
The kiss was nothing like I'd expected—and god knows I'd thought about it, watching him pace on security rounds through my windows. No practiced moves or calculated seduction. Just pure need, his hands tangling in my hair as mine fisted in his shirt.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, his forehead rested against mine. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
"We really should get back," he said finally, voice still rough.
"I know." But I made no move to leave the circle of his arms.
He pressed one more kiss to my temple, surprisingly light and tender. "Come on, princess. Before Giuliano sends out a search party."
The walk back felt different, charged with everything left unsaid. At my door, he caught my hand, pressing something into it.
"What's..." I opened my palm to find a small piece of sea glass, smooth and blue.
"Something real," he said softly. "Like the stars."
I stared at the glass, sea-smoothed and imperfect. My fingers closed around its cool edges as the waves crashed behind us, relentless and dark. Everything about tonight felt sharp, vivid—like waking up from a long sleep to find the world in focus again.
The glass warmed against my skin. Real. Like the sand grinding in my shoes. Like the salt drying on my lips. Like the way my hand still burned where he'd touched me.
There was no going back from this. I didn't want to.
19
GIULIANO
I'd made my decision.
Choices like these used to be simple. Keep the asset isolated. Maintain control. Don't blur the fucking lines.
But there I was in the kitchen before dawn, about to break my own rules. Because somehow, watching her eat alone in her room had become another kind of torture. Because maybe Enzo had a point about trust—not that I'd admit that to his face.
Because I wanted her at my table. Simple as that.
The kitchen staff scattered as I entered; good instincts, all of them. Even Geoffrey waited by the door, careful to keep his distance this morning.
"Sir? The usual arrangements?"
I stared at the empty chair. Her chair. It shouldn't feel this significant, bringing her to breakfast. Just another calculated risk. Just another way to bind her closer to us. To me.
"Changes today." The words came out like gravel. "Set an extra place."
His face stayed carefully blank. Smart man. But the silence in the kitchen shifted, loaded with unasked questions.
Let them wonder. I was doing enough of that for everyone.
I'd ordered the lock disabled on her door last night, giving her free access to this section of the compound. Watching her on the feed this morning, the way she'd paused at her open doorway, testing this new freedom like she wasn't quite sure it was real... Well, some decisions you can't take back. Not that I wanted to
"Look who's gone soft," Enzo said, walking in. He headed straight for the coffee like he always did.
"Don't start." My jaw clenched. Too early for his shit.
"What?" He leaned against the counter, watching me over his cup. "You're the one changing the rules."
Trust. Freedom. Whatever the hell we were calling it. Like that's all this was about. Like every time I gave her an inch, it didn't feel like losing control of something I never really had.
"We still need to be careful," I said instead, watching Vincenzo slip in.
"Finally letting our bird spread her wings?" His quiet amusement hit too close to home. "Or just tired of eating alone?"
I was about to tell Vincenzo exactly where he could shove his commentary when movement caught my eye.
Pearl. Standing in the doorway like she was waiting for permission. She'd dressed for breakfast—really dressed for it. A cream-colored dress that hugged her curves just right, hitting that sweet spot between innocent and dangerous. The kind of outfit that made you forget she was a prisoner until you remembered that's exactly why it hit so hard.