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“The bandage needs changing,” I point out. Then I realize I’m naked and quickly pull the sheet over my breasts.
He smirks. “Bit late for modesty,tesoro.”
The sheet barely covers him and I can’t help it, my eyes are drawn down to his cock. It’s hard. Achingly so.Jesus.How the fuck did I takethatlast night? No wonder I’m sore! Reluctantly, I drag my gaze away and focus on a framed photo of my grandma, gifted to me by my mother.
Thinking about Grandma Lopez instantly kills all lustful inclinations. Bless her soul, she was a devout Catholic and famous in our family for cursing us into everlasting fire if she thought we were guilty of harboring impure thoughts. Which was often.
Salvatore senses the shift in my mood and sighs. “I need to leave today,” he tells me. “I’ve stayed here too long already. Me being here is putting you in danger.”
I suddenly realize I don’t want him to leave. He’s only been in my apartment for a couple of days but it feels longer. I’ve gotten used to his larger-than-life presence.
I’ll miss him.
“Is it safe for you to go outside? What if that guy who wants to kill you is still around?”
Salvatore’s expression hardens. “Declan is a coward. He won’t try anything in the middle of the day. There are too many people around. The cops will be long gone by now so it should be safe for me to go. Besides, you’re coming with me. The two of us together won’t attract as much attention.” He grins at me.“You can pretend you like me and everyone will assume we’re sweethearts.”
The thing is, I’m not so sure I’ll need to pretend. Somehow, in the last two days, I’m fallen hard for Salvatore Faugno.
As Grandma Lopez used to say, may God have mercy on my soul.
???
The cab ride to Salvatore’s place is a tense affair. For me at least. I spend the entire journey wondering whether I’m making a huge mistake while he scans everything and everyone around us. I presume he’s watching for potential threats but he says nothing, although he made a point of reloading his gun before we left the apartment.
Since his shirt and jacket are in pieces on my living room floor, he’s wearing a pink fluffy sweater with a picture of a unicorn on the front. It was the only garment of mine that stretched enough to fit his bulky six-foot plus frame and the bandage around his arm.
He looks ridiculous, yet still amazingly hot. The cab driver didn’t look impressed when he picked us up, but the thick wad of cash Salvatore showed him dismissed any concerns he may have had.
Salvatore’s massive hand is firmly wrapped around mine when we pull up outside a tall glass and chrome building downtown. There are two large and very intimidating men standing outside the main entrance. Clearly, whoever lives here is anticipating trouble. Then I realize, it’s where Salvatore lives.
What the fuck?
Apartments in this part of the city cost millions. Like tens of millions. I’m literally speechless as Salvatore throws cash atthe driver and pulls me out of the cab. The two gorillas on the door clap eyes on us as we approach. Their mouths fall open in surprise.
“Mr. Faugno,” gorilla one chokes out as he scans Salvatore’s pink sweater. Gorilla two says nothing. I think he’s possibly having a coronary. Or holding in a large shit.
Salvatore ignores them and strides into the building, tugging me along in his wake. The entrance hall is grand: white marble floors gleam in the diffused light from the large smoked glass windows. There are colorful abstract paintings on the walls and an elegant crystal chandelier hangs high above. Floral arrangements dotted around the area fill the air-conditioned space with a subtle fragrance. It’s like a very tasteful, very expensive hotel, minus the guests.
“You actually live here,” I start to say when the elevator on the far wall opens and a tall, handsome man with reddish brown hair sticking up in all directions strides out looking extremely angry.
“Where the fuck have you been, Salvo!” he yells. Then he spots me tucked into Salvatore’s side and scowls. “Oh I get it, you got distracted by some pussy.”
I don’t like the tone of his voice or the fact he implies I’m a whore, and by the way Salvatore goes rigid, neither does he.
“I suggest you shut up right now, Christiano,” he growls, “Before I put you on the fucking floor.”
Christiano doesn’t look intimidated in the slightest. He rolls his eyes obnoxiously. “Aroldo has been shitting a brick. You’ve been gone for two fucking days, cousin, without a word. We all thought Declan had you!”
“Pfft.” Salvatore scoffs. “As if thatstronzocould take me down.” He pulls his shattered phone out of his pocket and shoves it in Christiano’s face. “I took a bullet and my phone died. Thalia’s the reason I didn’t bleed out in the alley. Shehelped me back to her apartment and patched me up. It took me two days to recover from the blood loss.”
“Her?” Christiano looks me over more carefully this time, taking in my blond pigtails, tight jeans, and Disney tee. Then he notes the way Salvatore is gripping my hand and his lips quirk up in a smile.
“I see.” There’s a lot of meaning packed into those two little words. Way more than I can decipher. “Love the new look, by the way,” he adds with a grin. “Suits you.”
“He’s very secure in his masculinity.” I stroke Salvatore's good arm and smile sweetly at Christiano. His grin widens, transforming his face from ‘grumpy fucker’ into ‘angel’.
Oh my God, Cara would love this guy. He’s just her type: lean but muscular. Pretty with an edge of violence. Trouble in a delectable package. Yeah, she’d be all over him.
