Page 43 of Savage Bratva King

“I want to prove to you that I’m not the monster you think I am.”

She sips her champagne and watches me closely. “I never said you were a monster.”

“You only thought it then.”

Her laughter hits me somewhere deep inside. There isn’t enough laughter in my life.

“A monster with a sense of humor.” She clinks her glass against mine. “You forgot something very important though.”

“What?”

“You didn’t bring any food for Marvel.”

I smile. “He can lick my fingers.” It seems that whenever I am with Gianna, all that comes out of my mouth is sexual innuendos.

“Can I?” She slants her eyes at me and my cock responds like a dog sniffing a bone.

“I can give you something better to lick.”

She is my prisoner. I’m supposed to be corrupting her so that I can hand her back to her family the tainted printzessa. An experienced woman rather than the naïve virgin who boarded the plane in Montenegro. So, why the fuck do my balls fill up at the image of my cock in her mouth?

This was not part of the plan. But watching her sip champagne with her legs curled underneath her on the picnic blanket, Marvel sitting attentively by her side, I know that the plan is fucked.

New plan. To sample all that Gianna Sedric has to offer and then make sure that she knows how fucking special she is. Because I don’t think anyone has ever told her before. Sure, she knows how important she is to her father, how important this arranged marriage to Seamus Mulligan is, but important isn’t the same as special.

It’s a million fucking miles away from special.

“Is that a promise?” Her cheeks are flushed, and it only makes her look more beautiful. She literally has no idea how goddamned sexy she is, or what she does to me.

“Gianna, I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”

“Did I look uncomfortable to you yesterday?”

I smile. “You understand what I’m saying. I brought you here against your will.”

“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That isn’t what worries me. I don’t care about her father, Xander, or Seamus. All that matters to me is that she wants me as badly as I want her. This plan is veering wildly off-track, but like an aircraft without a pilot, I’m powerless to stop it.

I lean forward and kiss her, and her lips instinctively part to let me in. Until a slobbery tongue takes out my chin and hers, and we barely rescue our champagne glasses from destruction-by-Belgian-shepherd.

Once we have Marvel back under control, Gianna asks me why I kept him.

“He followed me around. It took about five minutes for me to accept that he was never going to leave my side. So, I gave him a name, a collar, and a bed, and figured that I’d finally found the one who would never let me down.”

She averts her eyes, but I’ve already seen the pity in them.

“This life isn’t all bad,” I say.

She pops a chocolate-coated tuile into her mouth, starting the meal with dessert. “So, you enjoy intimidating people with weapons and threats and the zeroes in your bank accounts.”

“Is that a question?”

“No, it’s the name of a pop song. Yes, it’s a question.”

“Enjoyment doesn’t enter into it.”

“Why do you do it then?” She puts down her empty glass and scoops caviar onto a triangle of toasted bread. “And before you give me the standard explanation I-have-no-choice response, maybe give it some thought.”

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