Page 78 of The Madman and his broken Princess
She touched my chest. “Is it…is it a death fight?”
“They always are,” I said. I grabbed a smaller towel and carefully wrapped it around her hair.
“How can you not be scared?”
“Because I know I’ll win, especially since you’ll be watching, and I want to return to you.”
She closed her eyes and put her forehead against my chest. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to watch you get hurt. I saw too much of it already.”
“This is different,” I murmured. “We need to get dressed and pack. In order to make it to dinner with Remo and Nino, we have to grab a flight in two hours.”
“What about Luciano and Flavia? We can’t leave them alone.”
“They’ll be fine. Niccolo and our staff will take care of them and help them settle into their new home. We’ll be back in two days. They’ll survive.”
I worried about how Amelia would handle seeing me in a death fight. She had always suffered so much when I’d returned after torture, but she had to watch. Remo wanted it, and I couldn’t deny Remo.
My pulse quickened when we left our private jet in Las Vegas. From the airport, I had a good look at the glittering skyline of the city. I had never been to Las Vegas before, and knowing who ruled here, I wasn’t really all that fond of staying.
Nestore touched my lower back as he led me down the staircase and toward the waiting black Hummer limousine. The inside of the massive car was lined in lilac velvet and pink leather. Glasses with champagne waited on a small table.
I shook my head with a huff, but grabbed a glass the moment I sat down. I needed to calm my nerves, and maybe this champagne would help. Nestore regarded me curiously as I sipped at my drink. “Won’t you have a taste? It calms my nerves.”
“The only taste that calms me is yours. I don’t drink when I’m around Remo or Nino.”
I nodded. I got it. It was probably better if he kept his wits about him. “Are you sure Remo didn’t lure you to Las Vegas to punish you?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “But let me calm my nerves just in case. Lie back.”
I emptied my champagne and then stretched out on the long leather bench of the car. The privacy glass between the back and the front was up so that the driver couldn’t see us, but I was still nervous when Nestore pulled my panties aside and began to eat me out.
I came with a suppressed scream in Nestore’s mouth just a moment before the car stopped. Nestore wiped his mouth and put my panties back in place, then draped my long dress over my legs. He straightened and leaned back, looking as if he hadn’t just given me intense pleasure with his mouth and tongue. I quickly sat up and righted my hair, then downed the second champagne.
The door opened in front of a splendid hotel entrance. Nestore got out first and held out his hand. I took it and let him help me out of the high car. All eyes zoomed in on Nestore. How could they not? Even in Las Vegas, he stood out with his regal face, long black fur coat, and combat boots. At least he was wearing a shirt. Otherwise, people would probably pass out.
“Everyone admires your beauty,” he murmured.
I shook my head with a laugh. “They’re staring at you, not me.”
“Then they focus on the wrong thing.” He scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my short, wide skirt, then moving down to the white suede boots.
We didn’t have much time to freshen up in our presidential suite at the top of the Palazzo, but at least I could clean myself from our activities in the car. Nestore wanted me to wear an elegant white ruched chiffon dress that made me feellike I’d been transported here straight from the Roman Empire. The golden sandals with three-inch heels only heightened that feeling.
Nestore waited in the living area of our suite, in black jeans and combat boots, with a black knife and gun holster on his chest. His fur coat was draped over the backrest of the sofa. He fumbled with something in his hands. His eyes took in every inch of me, his expression filled with appreciation, giving me a warm feeling in my belly.
“You look like the Empress of California, dove.”
I froze at the endearment that he hadn’t used for me since I’d run. My smile felt shaky, and the hard twist of his mouth told me he hadn’t meant to let it slip.
He shoved to his feet and stalked over to me. Despite my heels, he still towered over me by a head. When he stopped in front of me, I caught sight of the thing in his hands. A gold leaf crown hairband inspired by the ornaments that empresses in ancient Rome used to wear.
He lifted it above my head. “This is missing. I had it made for you.” He put it down on my hair and arranged it until he gave a nod. “That’s it.”
I touched the material. “Is it gold?”
“Of course,” Nestore said, touching my chin. “Only gold and diamonds for you.”
I swallowed. “Do you want to punish me or worship me?”
