Page 21 of Savage Prince


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I would have all of her, and I’d make her love it.

Still, there’s a sharp blade of vengeance held to my throat.

Some sick part of me wants to break her, make her pay for my father’s death, see her suffer what I did. I want her to lose her father the way I did, bloody and painful.

I know that desire makes me a monster. I don’t care right now.

I can’t let go of her. My hand is still on her chin. I’m half-hard, my head swimming with the smell of her perfume and the sensation of her body pressed against mine. Our faces are close. She’s breathing faster, either out of fear or something else.

Her pupils dilate, and I know—or maybe I wish—it’s from something else. I imagine her wanting me as much as I want her in this moment, and fuck everything else. Fuck the politics happening in the dining room, fuck the past, fuck everything.

Is she thinking about fucking me the way I’m thinking about fucking her? Is she remembering the last time I touched her?

I know we could do it. I know my brothers will wait. They’re out in the dining room, dealing with Antonio. I don’t give a shit.

They wouldn’t care if I screwed her. Hell, they’d probably call it therapeutic. Maybe she isn’t as good as I remember. Or maybe she is, maybe she’s better, and if I do this, I can have her again.

Maybe if I give in to this moment, I’ll get everything out of Rose about her father. Maybe she’ll turn on him and come to me without pause, let me in body and soul.

It’s a dangerous thought. I have to grit my teeth and tamp it all down like gunpowder.

I let her go, practically shoving her face away like it can save me from my own traitorous body. I remind myself why I’m here.

Still staring at her, I say, “Good call.”

I’m not sure if I’m talking about her choice or mine.

Lifting my hand, I gesture back toward the dining area. Rose knows what I’m telling her to do, and she turns away from the wall, running her hands along her dress. I force myself not to think about what's just beneath that soft fabric or let my gaze track the movement.

And I tell myself it’s not weakness when I put a hand on her lower back to guide her. I tell myself it’s precautionary, a warning.

Rose stiffens as soon as my palm makes contact with her back, and I press my lips together to contain a savage smile. The dark satisfaction I feel is from that ugly part of me that wants revenge. I leave my hand where it is just so she can squirm, the menacing voice in my heart saying she deserves it.

I know it’s just my guilt and anger that are fueling me. I want her to feel bad about the spark between us because I know I should. I want her to be uncomfortable with me because I’m so weak around her, so unable to fight my own desire.

The dining room lighting is soft. I try not to look at Rose as we walk. I know if I did, I’d only imagine what she’d look like in my bedroom, lit by a lamp in the evening as I undress her.

The others are still at the table. Lachlan barely glances at me. Antonio’s eyes burn as he looks at me, then immediately turns to his daughter.

He looks her over, examining her for some sign of what could have happened. It’s satisfying to see him like this. He has no one to blame but himself. He did something unforgivable, and he’s done nothing but put Rose in danger since then. This was always going to happen.

“We’ll organize the transfer,” Lachlan says, picking up the conversation where he must have left off. “I think you’ll find the terms agreeable.”

Antonio doesn’t even grace the comment with a reply. He knows he has no choice in any of this.

“We’ll make the merger simple,” Lachlan continues. “I expect full cooperation.”

Finn cuts in next, practiced, reciting what we’ve already decided.

“The wedding will take place in a few weeks. Details will be worked out by our family. You will handle finances. We will handle the event.”

“That is excessive,” Antonio says, sounding like he’s close to losing his cool. Part of me hopes he will. “Do you have no basic respect? Think of what this means for me—”

“You should have thought about what it would mean for you before you decided on betrayal,” Lachlan says sharply.

“This is common courtesy.”

“Would you afford a thief common courtesy?”