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“Lots and lots of that name going around. And stays with me anyway.”
“Promise?”
I nod and wait for her to go on.
“Well his dad said he’d seen an accident.”
“Then it’s all good. You got your explanation.”
She chews on her lower lip, a vision that makes me want those lips somewhere else. Lush, full lips. I silently beg her not to go on.
“I don’t know. It had to be something brutal.”
“An accident can be traumatic.”
“I can’t help thinking he witnessed a—” She leans forward and lowers her voice, “A murder.”
My heart sinks to my stomach. “I’m sure it was nothing.” I don’t know why I keep trying to get her to change her mind; I put words in her mouth to prove she doesn’t know anything, when I should in fact do the opposite.
She rubs her hands over her face. I reach out and pull a strand of hair to the side. She blushes and looks down. “Yeah, it was probably nothing,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
My chest feels tight. Does she really need to die for this? It’s fucking nothing.
“And then his dad had him removed,” she sobs, her cheeks wet.
I pull a paper tissue from the pile on the table, reach over and dab her cheeks, then I grab her hand again, and hold it in both of mine. Her skin is ice cold and clammy. The air conditioning in this place is brutal.
“Are you cold?”
“A bit,” she admits.
I let her go and shrug out of my suit jacket, then I half-stand and lean over the table, wrapping it around her shoulders. “There you go. Wanna go for a walk before we call it a night? I think you need your beauty sleep.” Sadly, I’ve heard enough.
She sniffs. “You smell really nice.”
“Well, thank you. So do you.”
She stands and maneuvers her way out to the aisle. “When did you smell me? That’s ten shades of creepy.”
“Do you find me creepy?”
She pouts as she regards me, her gaze traveling along my body. “Mnooo, not really. Thank you for listening. Did I wear you out completely? You’re a great listener and—and I’m sorry if—”
“No. Not broken yet.”
She laughs and wipes the last of the tears off her cheeks. I lay my hand on the small of her back and lead her out on the street. Her little gasp as I touch her doesn’t escape me, and pleases me a lot. I like that she hasn’t come on to me. I like that all we’ve done is talk. Few dare to talk with me. Most are scared, and the women I meet only want me between their legs. I’m awed by her trust.
“Let’s walk,” I say. I’m fucking hesitating. I know what I must do, I just don’t want to anymore. There’s probably no solution to that, though. What I want doesn’t matter to Salvatore.
“I shouldn’t…”
“I completely agree. You shouldn’t. You don’t know me. I could be terribly dangerous.” I wink.
“Maybe…”
“Maybe you like danger?”
She stops and regards me, looking around us. Then she smiles that crooked smile of hers that makes me wish I was someone else, and that my reason to be here was something else entirely.
