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The rest of the evening remains low-key and private. Salvatore updates me on what his crew have discovered on the guy who broke into my apartment.
“Isaac Azeria. Thirty-nine. Divorced. One kid. Construction worker. He has a rap sheet—three prior convictions on robbery and one for sex with a minor.”
“I’ve never heard of that man in my life. What does he want with me?”
“He doesn’t want anything from you—this is what I mean when I say he was hired. Sometimes, crime families hire outside guys to complete a job,” Salvatore explains. “We call them street guys. Just guys off the street we hire as an extra layer of protection. Makes it harder to trace back to us.”
“Associates.”
“Right.Associatesif you want to be formal. Azeria was most likely hired by somebody bigger and more powerful looking to cover their ass.”
I blow a wary breath. “Probably Giorgio Belini... or maybe even Frausto. I’ve been building my case against him and he had my star witness murdered.”
“I’m going to handle it.” Salvatore stops there, as if it’s enough to silence my fears.
For the time being I let it.
When night falls, we don’t even bother pretending I’ll be sleeping in my bedroom. He seizes me and plants a deep kiss on my mouth. Within seconds, I’m being tossed onto his bed and then bombarded with more passionate kisses from him.
We’re avoiding the talk. Fine by me. Salvatore, being a man of few words, doesn’t seem keen on it either. He does insist I bring anything I need to his room, like my toothbrush and cleanser.
“Medicine cabinet’s almost empty anyway,” he says, shrugging.
I smirk, my heart beating faster with a dangerous level of fondness.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
This couldn’t feel more like the past. I’d moved into his room then, too. Whatever this is between us may only be temporary—much like last time—but it feels good. So good, a real part of me doesn’t want it to end.
I take longer than him preparing for bed. Whereas I have fifteen steps in my nightly routine, he has three tops. He looks up from where he sits on the bed when I emerge from the bathroom with a coy smirk.
He tilts his head to the side and asks, “What’s that look for?”
“I was thinking about before. That summer I practically moved into your place.”
“And defied your father.”
“You gave me the courage to do it,” I say with a light laugh. I plod over in my leggings and long-sleeve shirt, my curls already wrapped up for the night. It’s not the sexiest ensemble, but the fall season has been colder than usual.
The layers don’t deter Salvatore. His gaze rakes over me, pausing on the sleek fit of my leggings and how they hug my hips and thighs, and he pulls me onto the bed as soon as I’m close enough.
He plants a kiss on my jaw, his arms wrapping around me. “You know I used to be waiting for him to break the door down.”
“You’re serious?”
“I expected him to arrive with a SWAT team. They’d come in with guns drawn. Maybe a chopper outside with a spotlight so I couldn’t get away. I’d be handcuffed and taken into the station.”
I laugh and slap a hand to his chest. “You should write for a nighttime drama. I’d watch that episode.”
“Have you met your father? He hated my guts. He didn’t want me tainting his precious baby girl.”
“You’ve done a lot of things to me—most of them I’ve enjoyed and some of them bad, like breaking my heart twice—buttaintis a stretch.”
“Your father doesn’t have the highest opinion of me.”
I don’t bother correcting him; he’s right. Dad hates Salvatore’s guts. Even after all these years. He may not be after him like he was when he was district attorney, but it’s a grudge he’s never going to let go in his lifetime.
“Lucky for you, I’m a grown woman now and I make my own decisions.”
