“That would lead to a murder, Princess,” he hisses.
I laugh. His glare softens into a stare filled with longing. My laughter dies in my throat. The space between us suddenly feels unbearable. I shift closer, closing the gap until only a hand’s breadth remains.
“Don’t,” he breathes, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “It’s already driving me insane. Having you this close and not being able to touch.” A ragged sigh escapes him.
“You had me for a long time, and you still didn’t touch me.” I tease.
His gaze drops to my lips. “Now is different.”
My heart pounds like a caged thing fighting to break free.
“What’s different?” The words come out on a shaky exhale.
“Now I know what I want. And I want it—at any cost.” His mouth barely moves, but the words land like stones in still water, leaving ripples of trembling through me.
“Will you give up your revenge?” I ask, the question that matters most.
He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, long enough for my heart to still and my stomach to knot. But he doesn't leave me suspended in that dread—he nods.
“I will.”
The need to kiss him crashes through me, obliterating thought. I lean in, but Rosie intervenes, launching herself off his lap and landing on the ground with a soft thump.
She trots over to Bruno, who’s sprawled with his jaw resting on my feet. Bruno glares at her, baring his teeth, but she silences him with a sharp bark and bats his face with her tiny paws. Bruno immediately submits.
I laugh. “Bruno is such a cinnamon roll.”
“It’s because she’s your dog,” the man beside me notes.
He drapes his arm along the back of the bench, his fingers brushing my shoulder. I shift closer until there’s no space left between us. I let my head rest against his shoulder. His arm loops around me, pulling me in.
“Will this look too obvious to my bodyguards?” I murmur, tilting my face up toward his.
He turns his head, his face dipping closer. Our breaths mingle.
“Maybe,” he breathes, his eyes dark and fixed on my mouth.
I turn my head toward the water—away from him. If I keep looking, I’ll kiss him. And that will look suspicious as hell.
I let my gaze drift across the river, peaceful and still. The sky has deepened to charcoal. Lights along the bank glow, their reflections scattering across the water. Fog begins to unfurl over the surface. It must be past six, which means I don’t have much time left.
The weight of going home settles over me. Away from the cedarwood. Away from the warmth of his arms. Away from gray eyes.
I reach for his hand. He’s wearing gloves again.
“Why the gloves again?”
“I have to. In public.”
I turn my head slightly to watch his face.
“Will you tell me your name?”
“Salvario De Falco.” The name barely reaches my ears.
“Salvario De Falco.” I shape the syllables carefully, breathing life into the secret.
His mouth comes closer, stopping just before it touches mine. Then he pulls away just as abruptly.
