Page 133 of The Savage

Rafa kisses her again as they walk away. ‘Back soon. Or bloody. Either way, worth it.’

The room empties slowly, Maddie taking Nico upstairs, Dante grumbling about cleaning his gun before bed.

Eventually, it’s me and Renzo alone by the tall windows overlooking the sea.

He hooks a finger under my chin. Lifts my gaze to his. ‘You good now?’

‘Not really. But I will be.’

His voice drops. ‘Because you’re with me, sì? You know I’ll keep you safe?’ There’s expectation in there but also a hard probing.

I answer both with the simple truth. ‘Yes.’

His thumb brushes my lower lip, once and tender. ‘Good girl. Then let’s get some sleep, ragazza. Tomorrow…’ His smirk is wicked. ‘…I get to show you exactly why they call me a fucking legend behind a wheel.’

* * *

Morning light drenches the villa, brushing the walls in gold, stirring the salt-washed air, coaxing me awake before Renzo does.

Not that he doesn’t try.

A hand slides across my waist, warm, lazy, wickedly possessive.

‘Morning, angel.’

Heat blooms under my skin. It still startles me how easily he says it, how natural it sounds. How quickly I stopped flinching at it.

How quickly I stopped flinching at everything that once made me breathless with guilt.

A few days ago, the idea of lying naked in a man’s bed – this man’s bed – would’ve sent me into a spiral of prayers and shame.

Now…

Now there’s only a faint echo of that girl. The novice. The obedient one. The one who spent years lowering her gaze and quieting her own heart.

A nun in training, yes. But one who feels like she’s awakening from a coma.

I stretch under the sheets, still achy in places that makes Renzo smirk against my shoulder.

‘You’re thinking too loud,’ he murmurs.

‘Am I?’

‘Mmm.’ His nose nuzzles along my throat. ‘Thinking of running back to your convent?’

A soft laugh escapes me, surprising both of us. ‘No. I… I think I want to visit my sisters soon, in the States when this is over. I want to see Narciso. And Jacinta when she’s available.’

His hand pauses. ‘Where is that other Mancinelli?’ he asks carefully.

I frown, remembering Maddie looking pointedly at Sofiya when I asked about my other sister. And Sofiya staring blankly back. ‘Either they don’t know or… they’re not telling me. She’s doing something in South America somewhere.’ A short, soft ache blooms in my chest. ‘But I spoke to my mother yesterday.’

Well, it was more quiet sobbing on both sides than speaking, but it’s a start.

Renzo goes very still. ‘How’d that go?’

I swallow. ‘She cried a lot. She tried not to say much… but I could tell she was… hurt. That I didn’t remember her.’

His hold tightens and his eyes narrow. ‘Not your fault,’ he says, firm. ‘Not on you.’