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“Salvatore did that?”
“Well, Sal wasn’t don back then. His father did it, but it wouldn’t have happened without Salvatore’s convincing.”
“And Marcel’s worked for the family ever since,” I say, filling in the rest of the tale for myself. The story doesn’t warm my heart any. I’ve heard it a hundred times over. It’s how the family functions, meting out kindnesses that can be repaid later and collecting any unpaid debts with blood. It’s just business. My father works the same way, as did his father, and so on.
I was expected to be the same. I just failed.
Floorboards creak in the hallway and our conversation ends abruptly. Wordlessly, the mood shifts between us.
“Don’t worry about these clothes,” Ava smiles sunnily, scooping up empty bags. “I’ll take back the things you don’t want and what doesn’t fit, and I can do some shopping for you. You’ll just have to wear some of this for now. Or just stay in that.”
We both glance down at Salvatore’s shirt.
“There’s a reason you haven’t seen me below the waist,” I confess.
She blushes, wide-eyed at the realization.
“Oh. Goodness. Right—let me go get a pen and paper so we can make a list of things you need, okay?”
Once Ava hurries off, as if this is now an urgent emergency, I kick off the sheets and stand at the edge of the bed. All the possible outfits stretch out before me, dark and decadent. I want to drown the part of myself that hungers to impress him, that looks at these clothes and wonders what he likes.
I pull off Salvatore’s shirt and toss it aside.
“Is little Ava spilling all my best secrets?”
I whirl around at that low baritone. Salvatore leans in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.
In the early morning light, he brings my heart to a frenzy. The full suit from last night is gone, replaced with just a crisp dark button-up with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the subtle veins on his arms. He didn’t shave this morning, and it shows in the shadow darkening his powerful jawline.
“Do you have an alarm that sounds when I get naked?” I snap at him, grabbing one of the dresses.
“I have impeccable instincts,” he drawls.
Salvatore crosses into the room and seamlessly snatches the dress from my hands before I can get it on. He throws it back on the bed without ever taking his eyes off me.
“It’s not polite to talk about a man behind his back,” he says, his footsteps making slow circles around me. My heart lands at my feet as I wonder how much he heard.
“It’s not polite to eavesdrop, either,” I counter.
“My house. My eaves.”
Fuck.
If he’s angry, I can’t let Ava get in trouble for my snooping.
“I was just asking questions. I already know what you do, I know that your life is better than most. What does it matter to you what I ask?”
My question goes unanswered. Salvatore crosses to the bed, looking over the same selection of clothes that I had been choosing between.
“Maybe your men should get better at asking questions, too,” I add, “They won’t waste so much of your money that way.”
Salvatore continues to ignore me, the price tag of a few thousand dollars not worth a single syllable to him.
“And apparently, they think I’m not deserving of panties,” I add bitterly.
He picks up the mink coat. I think it’s a strange choice until he drapes it around my shoulders. By looks alone, I know the fur is real, and a shudder runs through me as he wreathes my naked body in the skin of a soft, innocent animal. I wonder if, to Salvatore, I’m the hunted animal. The trophy kill he wants to wear on his arm.
“You can ask whatever you want,” he says, his hand cupping my jaw as he makes me look at him, “but you ask me.”
