Page 104 of The Savage

The gelato almost slips from her hand. ‘Me?’

I turn her towards me. Not close enough to touch her properly but close enough to take her pulse from the air. I breathe reassurance back into her.

‘You’re a Mancinelli,’ I say quietly. ‘And they know who you are.’

Her throat moves. ‘But I don’t remember who I am.’

‘They do. There’s no other explanation. And I don’t believe in coincidences, ragazza.’

A thin line of fear cuts through her features. It’s fear for herself, yes, but more for the implications, for the tangled truth she’s piecing together.

‘Renzo,’ she whispers, ‘what do they want with us?’

‘Right now?’ I lean in, my lips almost brushing her temple. ‘To see if I’m stupid enough to walk around without protection.’

‘Are you?’ she tries to joke, voice trembling.

‘For you?’ I smile against her skin. ‘Never. I’ll protect you with everything I have. Always. Capisci.’

Her throat moves and her eyes glitter with tears. But my hand tightens on her hip. Because the men behind us? Their paces have changed.

Not by much but it’s just enough to send another shot across my bows. They’re about to move.

Giada follows my gaze and trembles, and I curse the security I left behind at the villa because I wanted to share a quiet walk with my girl.

‘Renzo,’ she whispers again.

‘I know.’

‘We should go back.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘If we run, they’ll chase. If we stay, they’ll escalate.’

Her chest rises sharply. ‘Then what do we do?’

I brush a kiss against her forehead, soft and fierce and meant to anchor her.

‘We take the scenic route,’ I whisper. ‘And then we teach the little lapdogs that following a Salvatore is an act of suicide.’

She swallows hard. But her free hand finds mine.

Goddamn.

My fucking sweet girl.

I pivot us towards a narrow side street, pulling her into the shadowed curve of an old stone arcade. The men behind us quicken their pace – subtle, but I hear it, the shift in their footsteps.

Time slows and the world narrows to her breath. My pulse.

Three threats closing in.

Giada clings to my arm. ‘Renzo…’

‘I’m right here.’

‘Your arm… you’re hurt.’

‘I’ll bleed later.’