"Draco," she whispers against my mouth, not a plea so much as a discovery.
I answer with a second kiss—deeper, still careful—letting her set the pace. Her hands slide up my chest, hesitant then bolder, and when her fingers curl into my hair, I nearly lose the thread of control I'm clinging to. I deepen the kiss, just slightly, and she makes that sound again—half gasp, half surrender—that threatens to undo a lifetime of discipline.
My other hand finds her waist, steadying her, or maybe steadying myself. She's soft and warm and trembling, and every instinct screams to pull her closer, to take more, to forget every reason this is dangerous.
But I don't. Because this first time needs to be about her choice, her pace, her freedom.
When I finally pull back—before I can't—her eyes are dazed, her lips swollen, and I've never seen anything more beautiful.
Our foreheads touch. Both of us breathing too hard for something that tame.
"That was…" Her voice fails her, eyes bright and a little stunned.
"Yeah." My thumb drifts once more along her cheekbone before I drop my hand. "Dangerous."
Her smile is shaky, proud. "Then let it be dangerous. Danger means I picked it."
A warning flickers through me—old, sharp, familiar.
This is how it started with mydomina… wanting, hoping, trusting too much.
And look how that ended.
"Midnight," I say again, because if I don't anchor this, I'll kiss her until the sun comes up. "Side gate."
She nods as she rises, then backs toward the door as though she's afraid any sudden move will break the spell.
"I should go," she whispers. "Dinner. My parents." She touches her lips briefly, still stunned. "Tomorrow night. I'll be there."
At the threshold, she glances down—my coin sits in her palm. I must have slipped it back to her when I pulled away, without even thinking. She closes her fingers around it like a secret.
When the door clicks shut, the room feels bigger and smaller at once. The rules that kept me alive for years in Rome—don't care, don't stay, don't need—lie quiet as dust.
Tomorrow night, I'll show her my city. Tonight, I’ll try not to count the minutes.
Chapter Nine
Charity
Midnight finds me slipping through the side gate by the roses, heart hammering with nerves as well as excitement. Earlier tonight, I'd texted Mother from the main house:Staying at the cottage to work on a piece. Don't wait up.Her reply had been terse—Very well—which means disapproval wrapped in acceptance. She never argues when it comes to my art.
I changed before sneaking out—jeans, the warm sweater from a recent shopping trip, and black boots that let me move quietly. Practical clothes for whatever adventure Draco has planned. Nothing that screams "Pembroke heiress."
Draco's already waiting, a shadow separating from darker shadows, and even in the dim light I can see his smile.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Almost." I grab his hand. "One second. I need to check on Lucky."
We detour to the cottage first. I need to see him one more time, to anchor myself before stepping into the unknown.
Lucky watches from the sofa, chin on the towel Draco used to cover the upholstery. Draco scratches the spot behind his ear. "Guard the castle," he tells him, and Lucky's tail thumps once like a promise.
Draco pulls something small from his pocket and presses it into my hand. "Take this."
It's a canister of pepper spray, compact enough to fit in my palm.
"Just in case," he says quietly. "Probably won't need it, but better to have it."
