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Keep it together.
He scans the length of me, taking his time. More dizzying heat rolls over me. My brown skin flushes, warm to the touch.
Damn it, I hate how his stare affects me even after all these years.
“I like when you dress like this,” he says finally. His gaze lingers on the pencil skirt clinging to my pear-shaped hips before it returns to my face. “You look beautiful—classy but sexy.”
I stammer. “You’re wasting my time. Four minutes are left—”
“Do you remember the summer before you left for school? The drive we took from Northam to Montbec Island? We brought Chip with us.”
“What about it?”
“We stayed at your parent’s beach house. Drank some of your father’s liquor.”
“Salvatore… what does this have to do with anything?” I fold my arms and give him a scolding look. “You didn’t visit my office at 7 p.m. after a decade to reminisce about Montbec Island.”
“Twelve years,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s been almost twelve years. We broke up spring of your freshman year at Dupoint.”
“The point is, it’s been a long time—”
“I’ve always known you’d go on to do great things,” he continues. He glances around my desk. Case files lay open, scattered across the top, but still my desk manages to look prim and neat. The few photo frames sit obediently at the outer edges. My MacBook is sleek and in mint condition.
The rest of the office is no different—clean lines, monochromatic color scheme of grays and blues, and svelte furniture. His presence sullies its perfection. My office, where law and good order prevails, is being tainted by one of the country’s most dangerous criminals.
And yet heat pulses around us. My skin flushes and breathlessness tortures my lungs. I stand speechless as my ex-boyfriend invades my space, and reduces me to feeling like I’m a teenage girl again.
He moves closer, his scent adding fuel to the fire. Its equal parts clean soap and piney aftershave mixed with an earthy masculinity, like he’s been on-the-go, getting his hands dirty. My gaze dips to his hands and I take inventory of the faded scars and scrapes. No fresh bruises or cuts, but they’re rough enough to reveal he still gets a lot of use out of them.
Salvatore has always loved a good fight.
He taps in at an inch over six feet. It makes for a stark difference next to my five feet, three inches. He comes into my space, stopping only with an inch to spare, and reaches up to touch my face. His rough palm skims over my cheek, slow and gentle, as if he’s admiring a priceless piece of art.
Our gaze holds, sucked into each other’s orbit. We’re incapable of pulling away even if someone were to walk in and discover our forbidden truth—many years ago, we used to be lovers.
He studies my mouth with open interest. For a brief second, I’m sure he’s about to kiss me—I’m sure about I’m to let him. My body betrays me with a shiver of lust. A deep yearning I wasn’t aware exists comes alive. If there’s ever been a temptation in the world, it’s Salvatore Mancino in the flesh.
I melt into Salvatore's touch like old times, my lips parting. Just one kiss. One taste of the past can’t hurt, can it?
As I’m forgetting my sanity, as an ache throbs from my core, the moment ends as quickly as it started. Salvatore drops his hand and takes a step back. I use the opening to move from the spot by the window. More space, more breathing room. I cross over to pretend-study the abstract pieces of art hanging on the wall.
Salvatore tracks me everywhere I go. I can practically feel his gaze admiring every inch of me.
“You’re a beautiful, intelligent, one-of-a-kind woman,” he tells me, picking up a photo frame on my desk. It’s from my graduation at Dupoint Law, the last photo I have of my parents and I. A few months later, we lost Mom. He stares at it for a moment in interest. “You being who you are, we need to discuss how we’ll handle the future.”
“We?” I scoff. “There is no we, Salvatore.”
“There will always be a we, Phi,” he dismisses. He sets down the photo frame and plunges his hands into his pockets. “This is a courtesy visit to avoid any future…complications.”
Now it all makes sense. I should’ve known why he’d show up after so many years. This isn’t about our past as lovers; this is about our paths crossing professionally—as in, my position as assistant district attorney creates a lot of problems for him and his operation.
Clearly, he’s back in Northam. He must know I’ll soon be after him too.
“I don’t do deals with organized crime syndicates. You should know that without even asking.” The dizzy, lusty haziness evaporates, and logic and sanity thankfully return. I glare at him as my tongue sharpens, ready to give him a piece of my mind. If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s a verbal confrontation. “If you think for even a second, I’m going to look the other way, and allow yourfamilyto wreak havoc on the city, you’re sorely mistaken.” Hands firm on hips, I lift my chin in a challenge. “I’ll do everything within my power to bring you and your cohorts down. You can count on that, Mr. Mancino.”
