Page 132 of Made in Love and Blood

His fingers left a trail of her saliva down her jaw. His forehead found a place to rest against her heaving chest while he tried to breathe.

“It’s past three,” Carina informed as her legs untangled from around his middle. He didn’t straighten, or step back from her and the desk, simply checked the clock. “You can sleep.”

•••

Salvatore woke sometime around noon. He only knew the time because the windows in Carina’s bedroom allowed light to spill across her fluffy, white duvet at that point in the day. It shocked him that he’d slept so long, but he also struggled to take in his surroundings.

He never slept in her bed. That was hers.

“Hey,” came Carina’s soft voice.

Salvatore blinked through the sunlight and pillows. Carina’s figure, contrasting through the rays, blocked his vision momentarily. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He tried to remember what happened after their moment together in the study, but flashes of the same thing, only in her bed, confirmed his reason for waking up where he did.

“There’s food downstairs when you want it.”

“Okay,” he mumbled.

Her arms wrapped her waist. “And your phone has been going off for a while.”

At that news, Salvatore pushed himself up to sit. He outstretched his arm and flexed his hand open and closed repeatedly while his wife grumbled under her breath. Eventually, the phone met his palm.

Salvatore had to blink several times to read the notifications on the screen. He chose to pull up the one right on top.

Larkin.

Got these, boss man.

Attached were two images. Phone records from the phone Nico had been given by Big Mike to do business. It took more than a few hours to gain access to some information.

The other attachment?

Flight confirmations for two people. Nico and Frankie, according to the information. Paid for through a credit card Salvatore didn’t recognize. Although, he figured Nico might also have moved his money into a new account, and opened others in the process, just to keep fingers and noses out of his business.

“What is it?” Carina asked.

Salvatore had switched back to the first attachment—the phone records. He recognized the area code, but he couldn’t answer his wife when a name lit up the screen with an incoming call.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Carina muttered at the caller ID.

Salvatore inhaled deeply before answering the call. “Afternoon, boss.”

“I want to see Nico today.”

“Today’s not great, Giorgio. Maybe—”

“Salvatore, I intend to sit down and speak with my son. I won’t lie and say you haven’t given him opportunities and put him on a better path than he’s been, but he is still my son. When should I expect him?”

He scrambled to come up with something. A lie. Anything.

“Or should I come find him?” Giorgio asked the longer Salvatore remained quiet.

“Can we at least give him the weekend to calm down?” Sal requested, hoping the man would find sense in doing so. “Marco is never far from your side, and as we saw, those two can’t be within breathing distance of one another without shit popping off. Do you think it’s a good idea to shove them right back together after last night?”

“I’ll deal with Marco.”

Yes, like you always have. Salvatore forced himself to say instead, “Then, take a couple of days to do that. I will do the same with Nico.”

“Fine.”