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“No,” I lied. I didn’t owe him anything. “Are you going to get your revenge on me now?”
He seemed surprised and amused by my own question. His eyes went from my head down to my shoes, then up again slowly.
“You’re a fucking mess, Lyons.”
My cheeks warmed at his insult. When he sidestepped me, I finally let a relieved breath out. His hand wrapped around my arm and started to pull me with him.
“What the hell are you doing?” I barked as he dragged me down the rest of the steps.
“You don’t have a car. I’m taking you home,” he stated. My eyes were glued to where he was holding me and dragging me away, not keeping up with the fact that my traitorous feet were already going along with him.
His car, although luxurious, was still sensible. He didn’t go for the fast cars that his younger cousins favored. He had a matte black G-Wagon with tinted windows. A classic but somehow still somewhat odd.
He didn’t stop until we were at the door, and he opened it for me and then pushed me inside.
“Inside,” he barked.
I opened my mouth to protest.
“In, or I’ll tell everyone you’re fucking Mr. Henderson.”
Shit.
Why did I let my walls down? Something on my face must have given me away because Sal smiled, and it was vindictive.
“You know, I almost wished I was wrong,” he admitted.
I knew I threatened Will about exposing him, but having it come out of Sal Zinnetti’s mouth would be so much worse. Everyone would believe him, and the rumors would make my father even more enraged if it came from him.
Would he snap and kill me? As much as my knees buckled with fear, an odd sense of peace also washed over me at this fucked-up situation and the out it might give me.
“Get. In,” Sal gritted.
Numbly, I did as he asked. The first thing I noticed was the smell. Like a new car and expensive cologne, and a hint of weed. His scent was all over the vehicle, and not only did my sense of smell like it, but my cock did too. I shifted before he jumped in so my hard-on wouldn’t be all that obvious.
I patiently waited for him to turn on the car, but he seemed to be deep in thought.
“How long?”
“What?” I questioned as I ran a hand over my curls.
Sal cut me with a glare. “Don’t play dumb, little cub. How long has that asshole been molesting you.”
My breathing hitched, and my head swiveled his way. I opened my mouth to deny it, but Sal raised a brow.
“You have bite marks on your lower lip.”
“It wasn’t like that,” I felt the need to add. If only to make me feel better. Sal didn’t say anything. He just kept looking at me, waiting for me to answer his question. “We had a thing last year.”
Sal reached for the glove compartment, his hand passing my chest briefly. He pulled out a silver box and opened it. Inside were three rolled-up blunts.
“And he’s not happy about not being able to tap your ass anymore?”
I winced at his choice of words.
“What am I doing here, Zinnetti? Are you finally going to get your revenge on me? What my dad does isn’t any of my business, and even if it were, it’s not like I can stop it.”
Smoke was blown in my face, and when it cleared out, my gaze was locked with Sal’s amused smirk.
