Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

All I can do is shake my head. I distract myself with following every turn of the streets that I can see. Trying to memorize which buildings are where in comparison to where we currently stand, in case I need it.

"It was the scar, if you're curious." He adds. "That's how I recognized you."

The top of the scar starts before my nose ends on my cheek, crossing over my lips, and ending near my chin. It makes my smiles feel tight when the skin stretches. And even then, a smile like that could never make me look anything other than broken. At least my appearance is honest.

"Marcello, what do you want from me? Why don't you run away from me like everyone else?" I turn away from the buildings so I can see his expression as he answers my question. "What do you know?"

Something flashes in his expression, but with a trained precision he hides it so quickly I can't read it. "The only thing I want from you is to have you on my team, Nilsa. And here you are."

“Is that all you want?” I reply. My heart hammers in my chest in anticipation. I shouldn’t have asked it, I shouldn’t be holding on to this tiny piece of hope that Marcello inspires inside of me. I’m wrong for it.

“Well, maybe I would like a dance under the stars.” He tilts his head, watching me with a serious expression.

Maybe he could want for more and I would let him. I would give him exactly whatever it is.

Confidence smooths its way into my blood along with the sugar and alcohol making it easier for me to turn toward him. I hold out my hand, tempting a smile. “There isn’t any music.”

His bright eyes widen. I try to hide the way my body trembles when he slips his fingers over mine and pulls me against him. The one hand intertwines with mine while the other rests where the back of my dress dips as he draws small circles with his thumb.

Marcello leans his face into mine. My eyes flutter closed as his lips move to my ear. A slow melody of a song hums against my face as he sings quietly. His voice is as melodic as I thought it would be, a deep sound that could entice nearly anyone.

The fabric of my dress is thin enough that I can feel the hard press of his body and the shape of his belt buckle against me. He turns us slowly, keeping the steps simple as I shuffle with him. He sings, although the song is in another language, I’m certain it’s about undressing a lover.

Pulling away from my ear, his nose draws a line across my cheekbone until his forehead presses against mine. His lips brush my mouth with every word. I’m hardly breathing while being held in his arms. I allow myself one second before I burst the bubble of this beautiful dream. I open my eyes and gaze up at him. He straightens, but only slightly.

Marcello holds me as if I’m fragile. His hands hover, he isn’t truly gripping me. No man has ever held me with such tenderness before. But I’m the sort of girl that if you don’t hold onto me tightly, I’m bound to slip away. His steps slow further, as if he recognizes that I’m about to let him go. He looks over his shoulder toward the elevator. "We need to head back soon."

I don’t want to. We need to though.

He kicks his feet at the ground, shuffling the small bits of rock on the rooftop and dropping his hands. The softness of his touch in mine disappears but leaves behind a more noticeable heat. He heads for the elevator without another word. I pick up the bottom of my dress and follow him with one last look at the city. The doors shift open and he sticks an arm out letting me walk in front of him. My heels click inside the elevator as I glare back at him.

"Marcello," I say as he enters the elevator and stands beside me.

"Nilsa?" he arches a brow.

"I don't think we should be alone together anymore." I blurt out. For my own good. It's the best thank you I can give him, the only kind of thank you I can physically make myself say.

"Why is that?"

"So it hurts less when you die." I breathe and look up to him with a smile.

He grins back. "Be gentle with me when you take my life after all of this."

"I make no promises." The doors click shut and we stand with the shadows of our smiles still on our cheeks. When the doors open again I can hear the chatter of partygoers, but all music has stopped. My eyes open wide and I look to Marcello.

He walks ahead of me, looking behind him to make sure that I'm following. I catch up quickly, curious as to what exactly could have put the party on pause in any sort of way. There is still cheering and talking, so it certainly can't be anything that crazy.

"What exactly is happening at eight o'clock that we had to be back for?" I match his pace as he reaches for the door.

"Oh," he says in a dull sarcastic tone, "if I told you then that would ruin all of the fun."

"You sound so enthused." I sigh and follow him back into the room.

Everything is as it was, but where the band sits and plays, another man has joined with a silver sparkling microphone. The crowd is parted into groups, or teams at it would seem, and my eyes instantly search out Juilliard and the rest.

Marcello points through the gathering teams to where ours waits. We pass by Mavi and Davison standing in their group, all smirking as they