“I refused.”
I place my hands on his shoulders. He straightens and pulls me onto his lap. I lock my arms around his neck and settle against him.
I smile, teasing. “Are you jealous?”
The anger is still there, etched into every line of his face.
“Jealous isn’t the right word for what I’m feeling. Tell your parents to stop thinking about arranging any marriage for you. I won’t think twice before killing whoever the fuck they choose.”
“Alright. I’ll tell them there’s a man who’ll kill anyone they pick for me. And what do I tell them—who is that man?” I tease, but he’s clearly in no mood for jokes.
His grip tightens on my waist, fingers pressing hard.
“Il Macellaio di Napoli.” His voice drops lower. “And when it comes to you, I’ll gladly become Il Macellaio del Mondo.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, frowning.
A knock at my door makes me jump off his lap.
Another knock, harder this time. I grab Salvario’s hand, yank him up, and shove him toward the closet.
“Hide. Now.” I whisper-yell.
He disappears into the closet. I rush to the door, a third knock comes just as I reach it.
I wipe my sweaty palm on my dress, drag in a breath, and open it.
Mom and Dad stand there.
“Are you alright?” Mom asks, scanning me as she steps inside.
I nod. “Perfectly fine.”
I turn to Dad. “What happened out there?”
“Someone shot out the garden lights from a window that opens to the outside.”
I frown. “Who?”
“We haven’t caught the shooter. It was a clean job, the footage is gone, too.” He scans the room. “Keep your windows and balcony door locked.”
I nod again.
“Do you have your gun?” Mom asks.
I give another nod.
Dad holds my gaze for a long moment.
“There’s a chance it’s the same man who kidnapped you.”
“Why would he do that?” Mom asks.
“We’ll find out once we catch him.” Dad’s eyes never leave mine.
I race through possible responses in my head.
“Don’t hurt him if it really is him and you catch him.”
