Page 30 of Savage Don

“Domenico must really keep you sheltered. No wonder you were so eager to break free.”

Before she can fall for my bait, Francesca shakes her head and looks up at me. “What does any of this have to do with me?” she asks. “Who are you, really?”

I can feel my smile grow. It’s not often that I get to announce my new position to a relative stranger. Everyone who needs to now already does.

“I am Ray Byrne. Former enforcer and commander-in-chief for the Kilpatrick crime family. Now, I am the Great Don, ruler of the three remaining Italian families. Your father is under my control, Francesca Galli. And so are you.”

There she goes again, dropping that bottom lip. Such a tease. I have to bite down on my tongue just to keep myself from pouncing on her.

Fuck. Even with a hangover the size of Texas and dry beer sticking to her skin, she’s just fucking gorgeous. The perfect image of innocence getting its first taste of corruption.

Oh, there’s so much further you can fall, kitten. Let me help you into the darkness. I’ll be gentle… for a while.

“What’s a Great Don doing following a college girl to school?” Francesca finally manages to mutter out. Her sass only makes me smile even the more. I like her fiery attitude. It gets me hot.

“I can explain everything,” I tease, stepping aside so that the innocent little college girl in my bed is bathed in sunlight.

Francesca winces away from the brightness, and part of me wants to step back into place, protecting her from the pain and covering her in more than just my dark shadow.

But I know that there’s more I need to get out of her first.

“Go ahead, then,” Francesca mumbles, covering her eyes with her forearm.

“Not now. It will have to wait.”

“Wait for what?” she asks, exasperated.

“For another time. The Great Don is busy.”

“Not too busy to follow me around,” she huffs.

“You’re free to return home. I promise I won’t follow.”

The word “home” seems to hit her like a strike of lightning, and not even the bright sunlight can stop Francesca from dropping her arm and staring up at me like a lost kitten.

“Home…” she mumbles. The word has never sounded as good as it does coming from those lips. “Fuck.”

Neither has the word fuck.

Still, I can feel the dread in it.

“What’s wrong, kitten” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“What time is it?” Francesca asks.

I take out my phone and check for her. “Two in the afternoon.”

Her slender body instantly sinks.

“My father will kill me…” she whispers, so filled with dread that she doesn’t even try to keep the thought inside.

“Not if I command him not to,” I tell her.

That draws her sunken eyes off of the mattress. “Even if what you’re telling me is true, it won’t matter. He might not actually kill me, but he’ll want to know where I was. He’ll find out about school.”

“I won’t tell him,” I assure her, hiding the smile that wants to grow even bigger on my face.

She’s heading in the right direction.