Page 40 of Savage King

"I wish," she regards the steak with hungry eyes.

Laughing, I place one on her plate before adding the second to mine.

The next bowls hold steamed vegetables, twice-baked potatoes, sautéed onions, and mushrooms.

"This looks delicious." She watches me as I place a little bit of everything on her plate. There is something very satisfying about putting food on her plate for her.

"Dig in." I invite.

"Buon appetito," she reaches for the fork.

"Parli Italiano?" I ask, amazed—do you speak Italian?

"Un poco,"—a bit—there it is again, that smile that would make Mona Lisa green with envy.

"What other surprises do you hold?" I ask, watching her cut a piece off the meat, bring the fork with it to her mouth, and close her eyes before taking a bite. I don't think watching a woman eat has ever aroused me—until now. This woman is full of firsts.

"This is so good," she praises, savoring the meat and creating havoc with my insides. It takes me a moment before I realize she's still talking. "I also speak some Mandarin, Spanish, French, and Russian."

"A strange choice of languages," I observe, but I’m deeply impressed.

"Mom insisted." Her smile fades a little. She dabs her lips with her napkin. "How long will I have to stay here?" She changes the pleasant dinner conversation, reminding me that this isn't a date. She is my guest. Hostage, really.

"You don't like it here?" I stall.

She tilts her head, and shrewd, intelligent eyes penetrate mine. "Don't do that, please. I need honesty."

If anyone else dared to second-guess me or call me out like she just did, I’d put a bullet through their head. But with her? I kind of like it. I like it when she calls me out on my bullshit.

I take a bite of the steak just to give myself a moment to compose an answer. She is not stupid. She knew from the beginning that my intention in taking her hostage was to leverage her life to ensure her father's continued commitment to getting Carlos into jail. Just as she should know now that I have no intentions of leveraging her. I could never follow through with the consequences. She wants honesty, though. I chew slowly while she silently observes me, seeing through my stalling technique.

"The idea was to keep you as my hostage to make your father do the right thing," I confirm her suspicions.

"And that has changed?" she wants to know, sipping from the glass of wine as if we were guests at a big dinner party. Her posture is admirable, and so is her composure.

"That changed," I confess.

"So what am I now?"

"I don't know," I reply honestly, already getting lost in the fathomless blue depths of her eyes. "From this moment on, no one touches you. No one will even think about harming you. I’ll start World War III before I let that happen."

"As long as I'm your guest?"

As long as we live, pops into my head, but I don't want to scare her or make her think I'm some perverted stalker.

"As long as it takes," I settle on.

"Why do you want Carlos in jail so badly?"

The direct hit catches me off guard, and I choke for a moment on a piece of carrot. Alarmed, she looks at me, ready to jump up. "Are you okay?"

She hands me my glass of water.

I wave my hand. "I'm fine." I'll be damned if I die because of a piece of carrot. Bullets have tried and failed.

"I'm sorry if that question was too personal, but you're risking a lot to put him in jail, and aren't you supposed to be of the samemafia familyor something?" I just adore the way she puts air quotation marks up with her fingers aroundmafia family.

At the same time, I can't help but admire her intelligence. She's not from our world, but she knows enough to put two and two together.

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