Page 117 of The Don's Secret Heir

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“We’ll be late for our reservation,” he growls, pulling me to him with one hand on my waist.

I catch myself with my hands on his chest.

“Maybe we just should stay home.”

He pulls away from where he’s been nosing against my neck. He frowns down at me.

“But Charlie said it would be good for you. Doctor’s orders.”

A shiver runs through me. “Alright. If that’s what you think is best.”

I feel oddly nervous and we’re just going to dinner, a new Sicilian restaurant that just opened a couple of years ago.

Dario opens the car door for me and I slide in, buckling my seatbelt.

My throat is getting tighter and tighter and I’m not sure why I’m panicking.

I haven’t been out of the house since I was kidnapped, and being outdoors, even with Dario, is freaking me out.

When he gets in and shuts the door, it feels a little better, like we’re somewhat protected. I’m able to take a few calming breaths before we arrive, and I think maybe it’ll be okay.

We walk inside, sit down at a table, and everythingisokay.

I order a glass of wine and sip it slowly.

Dario smiles at me. “You look better. Lit up, somehow.”

“It’s the makeup,” I admit, smiling slightly. “But honestly, it’s not so bad.”

We order a shrimp appetizer and I finish my wine. I’m actually feeling sort of good.

I still feel disconnected, untethered to myself, but I guess that’s just something I have to get used to.

A waiter walks by carrying a large tray of water glasses and he drops it, right by the restrooms.

The sound makes me feel like my brains are being scrambled. I leap to my feet, hyperventilating.

“Wait, wait, Li, it’s okay, it’s just water—” Dario starts, but I’m too far gone.

I rush toward the back exit and I can’t breathe until I get outside, shuddering and taking in big gulps of air. But now I’m outside, and it’s dangerous outside.

“Unlock the car,” I say in a strained voice as Dario comes out of the back.

“Just come back inside,belissima,” he pleads, holding his hands out in front of him. There’s something desperate in his eyes. “You were just startled, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” I burst out, tears streaming down my face. “It’s not okay because I’mnot ready, Dario. I need... I need to be home.”

Dario looks at me for a moment longer before unlocking the car with the key fob.

I rush to the car and get in, finally able to breathe without constraint once the door closes. When it opens again and Dario gets in, I feel a rush of panic.

“It’s too soon,” Dario mutters. “We’ll try again in a few days.”

“Okay,” I say, willing to say anything to get home and curl up in bed.