What will she really think of me if she knows how much I’ve witnessed of her life?
Will she think I’m a fucking monster for hiding for so long?
Fuck.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Lily
Even after a cold shower, I’m still burning up.
I’ve checked my makeup three times, curled my hair twice, and changed my earrings even though no one else would notice the difference. The blue sundress hugs me just right, with silver sandals that make me feel a little braver than I actually am.
I’m nervous as hell about stepping back out there.
Not because he scares me, but because I want him so badly, it feels dangerous, and I don’t want to come across as desperate. I don’t want to ruin this before it’s even begun. Because this feels like the first good thing to happen to me in a long time. Where my brain isn’t constantly scanning for danger. I’m not waiting for my emotions to take hold of me. All I am thinking about is him.
When I open the door, he’s already looking at me. His eyes drag over me slowly, and he bites down on his lip like it takes actual effort not to touch me. “In-fucking-credible, Lily.”
Heat floods my cheeks as I cross the space between us, taking him in properly for the first time. Dark navy shorts sitting low on his hips, sneakers, and a tight white T-shirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. His muscles strain beneath the fabric when he shifts.
“You look handsome,” I say, and I mean it.
Something soft flashes across his face, gone almost as quickly as it appears.
“Shall we?” he asks, holding out his hand.
I place mine in his palm, and the contact sends a jolt straight up my arm, like my body has been waiting for permission to react. His fingers curl around mine, protective and possessive all at once.
“What are we doing?” I ask, tilting my head, looking up at him through my lashes.
He leans in and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Exploring,” he murmurs. “Fine dining. Seeing some art. A stroll along the beach. Ice cream.”
I smile before I can stop myself.
“That sounds perfect, Drago.”
“Good,” he says, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. “And then later, I’d like to take you for dinner, baby.”
“I’d love that,” I reply without hesitation.
We head down into the garage, his hand never leaving mine, like letting go isn’t an option. He guides me toward a sleek, glossy McLaren.
I stop short.
“Is that yours?”
He shakes his head, opening the passenger door for me with a small, knowing smile.
“Nope. Borrowing it from a friend. I’ve been instructed to take good care of her.”
I slide into the seat, heart racing, pulse loud in my ears, not from the car. But from the man who closes the door gently, like he already knows how much control he needs around me.
I’m almost wanting to see how far I can push him. See if I can tempt him to break faster.
The art gallery is modern and bright, with white walls and soaring ceilings, sunlight pouring in through massive windows. My chest tightens the second we step inside. It feels like home. Like breathing deeper without realizing I’d been holding it.
Drago notices immediately.
