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“I’m really doing this,” she mutters, shock imbued in her tone. “I’m really staying with you?”
“You are.”
“You’re really going to find him?”
It’s a question I don’t expect. Not right now. Not after her protests about law and order and her position as the future DA. Looking into her eyes, I see a tinge of something I haven’t seen out of her in a long time—an edge that I don’t think anybody else has ever noticed before. The not-so-good, less-than-perfect side of her I used to teasingly say made her a bad girl.
Her dark side.
The one nobody else knows about but me.
“I am,” I answer. “I told you I will. I’ll handle it.”
Relief flickers across her face for the briefest second. “Thank you.”
10. delphine
When you movein with your ex-boyfriend who happens to be in the mafia, there’s bound to be some growing pains. Growing pains I quickly discover within days of staying at Salvatore’s large, industrial-sized loft apartment.
It’s more like a compound since he owns the building and uses it for his operation. I’m told it’s an old clothing factory he bought and renovated to fit his needs. Discreetly located in Northam’s manufacturing district, right on the border of the city, there’s not many who live in the area. Only trucks and factory workers tend to pass through.
The perfect secluded spot for a mafia boss to establish his operation—andfor an assistant district attorney hiding out at his home.
As promised, there’s a generously-sized guest bedroom ready for me when I arrive. Salt and Pepa immediately set out to explore the space, curiously sneaking off to check if it meets their feline standards.
The room’s even decorated in a manner that fits my tastes. Neutral palette with only a pop or two of color. A decent book selection and some candles I’ll enjoy lighting. In the center is a bed that’s big enough for three people let alone two. . . let alone just me. Even a cat post sits in the far corner by the window overlooking the Northam River.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think Salvatore somehow, on such short notice, had his employees redecoratejustfor me…
The first growing pain I encounter comes on the first morning of my stay. I’ve taken the day off, much to Brenda’s concern (she texts me nonstop asking if I’m sick again). It’s well past eight by the time I wake up, which is rare, considering I’m out of bed by six even on weekends.
In the few short hours I’ve been at Salvatore’s, my bedroom has become a sanctuary. The one space on his property that’s mine. Everywhere else is his, meaning I’m liable to run into him at any given moment.
My breath shallows at the thought. It’s been so many years, I’m still not sure how to act around him. Our history is complicated and stirs up so many feelings, I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. Salvatore says he’ll give me my space. This arrangement is purely for safety purposes.
Yet, as I put on a brave face and venture past my bedroom, I discover how impossible it is for this situation to be anythingbutawkward as hell. Salt and Pepa trot at my heels as I move into the kitchen and stumble upon a shirtless Salvatore in sweatpants.
I freeze so abruptly, Salt rams into the back of my slippers. He haughtily goes around me but not before casting me a disgruntled look. I barely notice. I’m too busy staring straight ahead, my cheeks warm and my heart pounding furiously.
Salvatore stands at some ultra-futuristic-looking espresso machine, making himself a cup. His normally slicked dark hair sticks up in cowlick fashion, and his beard’s thicker than just a few hours ago. He clearly hasn’t trimmed it for the day yet.
I’ve spent enough mornings waking up beside him to know what he looks like fresh out of bed.
Time has only made the sight more glorious.
Fully clothed, Salvatore exudes a dark and sexy edge that can be disorienting. Half naked, with square shoulders and a chest carved of battle scars and lean muscle, he’s on a whole different level altogether. Tattoos ink his pale skin and the sparse happy trail below his navel points to the distracting—andlarge—dick print in his sweatpants.
Everything about him is all man. All dominance.
I’m feeling hot at the dirty thoughts that enter my mind of their own accord.
His gaze flits up at the same moment I shift to turn away and pretend I never wandered into the kitchen in the first place.
“Morning, Phi.” The edges of his mouth lift into a surprised, slanted grin. “It’s half past eight. Figured you’d be getting ready for work.”
I fold my arms over my chest to give myself something to do. “Normally, I would be. But I called out today.”
“You okay? You had a lot of champagne last night.”
