Page 172 of Savage Don

“We’re not done yet, princess,” Ray reminds me, his hot breath washing into my ear. “We’ve still got a kingdom to run. And we’re going to rule it together. Understand?”

“Yes,” I choke. “I understand.”

39

Francesca

It takes a solid month before I can wake up without a grimace on my face.

The pain is constant.

So is the love.

My recovery may be long and hard, but it doesn’t seem so bad, because every second of it is spent next to my man.

Ray Byrne.

Fuck. He’s such a hunk.

Somehow, he looks even hotter with his new scars. They slash between his dark tattoos like all of this was planned out—like, of course they would look awesome on him, what wouldn’t?

All I got, on the other hand, were some internal injuries and some superficial cuts and bruises. They don’t look nearly as badass.

Ray took the brunt of the crash. It probably saved my life. But we’re far enough away from it now that I can’t help but wish I got a cool scar or two as well.

“Look at you!” Elisa smiles, charging into the bedroom like she was just waiting for me to wake up. “I hardly even see a limp this morning.”

The queen seems to have a sixth sense for all things health related. And despite being the wife of Aiden Kilpatrick, the king of all kings, she never shies away from doing the dirty work to help her patients heal. In fact, I think she loves it.

It must be why she’s been personally taking care of Ray and me as we recover at home, even though she usually leads an entire hospital worth of the Kilpatricks’ own doctors and nurses during the day.

“I guess I had a good night’s sleep,” I smile, shuffling my way towards the bathroom. “How long has Ray been up?”

I don’t even need to look back into our bed to know he’s not there. By now, I can sense his presence. It’s as natural as breathing.

“Only about an hour,” Elisa confirms. “Aiden came over to update him on some work matters. They’re downstairs in the kitchen with little Rian and Melina. I’m sure they’d love to see you, if you want to go down and say hello.”

My heart clenches as I think about Elisa and Aiden’s adorable children. Little Rian has finally begun to talk, and he says the cutest fucking things—including the words Uncle Ray… and Auntie Fran.

That little guy is the only person in this world who’s allowed to call me Fran, and it’s only because he can’t pronounce Francesca yet. When he’s finally able to, I’ll put an end to this Fran cuteness. Not even Ray is allowed to call me that. Not unless he wants to be punched in the arm.

“How long will you be staying?” I ask. “I should probably shower first.” Stretching out, I subtly smell my pits. Rian is also at the age where he has no filter. I’ve seen him call out mob bosses on the pettiest shit, and I definitely don’t want to be on the receiving end this morning.

“Take your time,” Elisa smiles. “We might just stay until—”

Before she can finish, Maeve comes waddling in through the bedroom door, humming an old Irish tune. She’s got fresh sheets draped over her shoulders, and she heads straight for the messy bed.

“Heard you were up,” the little old Irish maid says, a line of sass running through her words. “Figured I could finally get to work.”

“Good morning, Maeve,” I laugh. She’s been helping out around the house while Ray and I have been incapacitated, but she’s usually more reserved. It’s only on the rare, wonderful occasion that she lets her inner Irish wit come out.

“Good morning, lass,” Maeve replies. “Will you help me with these sheets?”

“Sure.” I’m about to help her out when Elisa steps between us, cutting me off.

“Francesca and I will deal with the chores ourselves,” she says. “You need to get going, or else you’ll be late.”

Maeve huffs, not even bothering to stop.