Page 126 of The Savage

Those three words. Spoken like a vow. Spoken like salvation we both need.

Before I can breathe, she swings her leg around me, straddling my thigh, kissing me like she’s drowning and I’m the only air left.

My back hits the stone wall behind us, and she whimpers when I drag her hips against mine.

‘You sure?’ I grit, voice ragged.

‘Yes.’

Her lips bruise mine. ‘I want to forget.’

Her breath shivers.

‘I want you. You make everything better, Renzo. Please make it better.’

That’s all I need.

I lift her, my stronger arm under her thighs, her nightie bunching up around her hips. She whimpers before her legs wrap around me, pulling me tight, tight enough to feel the heat of her through both our clothes.

Her mouth is everywhere, my jaw, throat, shoulder, and I swear I go blind for a second with the force of my need for this breathtaking woman. With the force of my feelings.

I press her to the ancient stone wall, kiss her until she moans, until her nails dig into my neck.

Her body arches, desperate. Her voice is a whisper and a cry all at once. ‘Renzo… please.’

I break.

I break for her.

I break with her.

And under the Sicilian moon, with the sea crashing at our feet, Giada rides me like she’s claiming back her life, her memory, her body, piece by trembling piece, until she shatters apart in my arms.

And I follow her straight into the dark.

18

RENZO

It’s been four days since my brothers and their wives descended on Ortigia like a biblical plague.

Four days since Cesare gave orders with that Underboss glint in his eye, since Rafa paced holes into my terrace muttering about weasels and sins, since Dante raided my liquor cabinet like it owed him money.

Four days of Giada sleeping in my arms every night and waking up with her thighs trembling around me every morning.

I should be relaxed. Instead, I’m wound tight enough to snap. Because even with her warm in my bed, her fingers tangled in my shirt holding me close even in sleep, even with the promise of a future humming through my veins…

Danger is circling.

And it’s getting closer.

So when my phone vibrates on the table just after dinner, it feels almost inevitable that the notification that pops up is from this particular individual.

Nightowl

Incoming footage. Eyes open, lover boy.

I open the feed and watch the grainy surveillance footage roll. A dark convoy moves through the Sicilian countryside. High-end cars, blacked windows, armoured plating glinting under street lamps.