Page 57 of Prince of Vice

"I had a feeling you were holding back self-doubt," he admits, his voice soothing and reassuring. "But that's okay. It's natural to be nervous, especially when so much is on the line. I'm glad you shared your concerns with me, and I want you to know that I have complete faith in you."

His words wash over me, easing the tight knot of anxiety in my chest. As we continue to soak in the bathtub, our thoughts melding together, I realize how important honesty is in our newfound relationship.

Eventually, the water begins to cool, and we reluctantly leave the sanctuary of the bath. I reach for my clothes, eager to cover my nakedness, but Primo stops me with a gentle touch.

"Where are you going?" he asks, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Back to my room," I reply, confused by his question. "I wouldn't want anyone to see me like this."

"Isabella," he says firmly, capturing my gaze with his intense stare, "you will spend the night in my bed. I may have need of your body again."

My heart twists at his invitation, and I stammer, "Are you sure?" In some ways I feel as if we are growing too close too fast, and I worry whether it will cause problems. Deep down, I worry whether I am a fleeting fling for him despite the feelings that are starting to grow inside of me.

"Of course," he answers without hesitation, his voice laced with authority. "When I speak, it's because I've thought about what I'm going to say. I don't like to repeat myself."

The satin sheets feel cool and inviting as I slip into Primo's bed, my body still tingling from our earlier intimate encounter. The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lamp on the nightstand, casting sensual shadows on the walls. I hesitate, unsure whether to inch closer to him or remain on my side of the bed. His dark eyes seem to sense my uncertainty, and with a knowing smile, he reaches out to grab my waist, pulling me against him.

"None of that," he murmurs, his voice deep and soothing. "You're mine tonight, Isabella."

The warmth of his naked body against mine sends a shiver down my spine, and I relax into his embrace, reveling in the contrast of his hard muscles pressed against my soft curves. As we lie together, I notice the intricate tattoos adorning his arms, their designs mysterious and captivating.

"Your tattoos," I say, tracing the inked lines with my fingertips. "They're beautiful. Will you tell me what they mean?"

"Perhaps another time," he replies, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "For now, let's just rest. I'll need my energy for tomorrow."

"Of course," I sigh contentedly, feeling more at ease than ever before. But a sudden thought crosses my mind, and I add, "We also have to prepare for the trial, remember?"

He chuckles softly, the vibrations resonating through both our bodies. "Oh yes, that too."

As we lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, I find myself reflecting on how our relationship has evolved – from professional to personal, from colleagues to lovers. It's a thrilling transformation, one that has allowed us to shed our inhibitions and bare our souls, forging a connection more profound than I could have ever imagined.

"Primo," I whisper, my voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," I say, my heart swelling with gratitude. "For sharing this part of yourself with me... for trusting me."

He tightens his embrace, pressing his lips against my forehead in a tender kiss. "The pleasure is all mine, cara mia. I’d like to give you something.”

I’m shocked by his words. “Oh, okay,” I reply, stumbling over my answer.

He reaches into the nightstand next to him and pulls out a little velvet box. My breath hitches in my throat as I wonder what could be inside.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs me and I smile but comply.

I feel his fingers brush against my neck as he gently moves my hair to the side. Then I feel the cold sting of metal against my throat. I shiver as his fingers clasp the necklace around my neck, his touch gentle and intimate.

“Keep those eyes closed,” he says, almost as if he can sense that I’m about to open my eyes. His thick hand wraps around the front of my throat, toying with me gently before his fingers slide down the metal of the chain to the little token I can feel sitting on my chest. As his fingers move, I feel myself wanting him to touch me further and I’m amazed at how easily this man affects me.

“Okay,” he says, and I open my eyes. I look down and see that I’m wearing a beautiful necklace with the sigil of St. Ives on it.

“The patron Saint of Lawyers,” he says.

I smile and turn to him, our gazes meeting. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“It will help keep you safe,” he says to me.

“You make me feel safe,” I admit to him.

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