Page 27 of Shattered Choices

Isabella: Can’t, I’m busy.

Salvatore: Oh, you want to meet with me.

What I want from him is to sign the divorce papers and leave.

Isabella: Why would I want that?

Salvatore: I have something for you.

Has he found the traitor?

Isabella: Be specific.

Salvatore: You are no fun.

When did he get funny?

Isabella: Specifics.

Salvatore: I have the information you need.

Isabella: Spill it.

Salvatore: Sorry, honey. I will tell you when I see you.

Isabella: …

Salvatore: Should I come to you, or will you come to me?

Fuck. I look around the room; the men are all engrossed in their cards.

Isabella: Where are you?

Salvatore: In my car outside your club.

I don’t answer as I throw my cards on the table. “Keep playing. I have a private situation to take care of.” I turn toward Pino. “Stay here. I’ll take Raffaele with me.” He nods, and I turn and walk toward the door and leave.

I see him as soon as I exit the club, Raffaele behind me. He’s sitting in the car he rented. I open the passenger door and slide inside.

The spicy smell of his cologne fills my nostrils, and the memories of the last night we spent together play in my head like a movie.

It was closure. There is no going back. It was one last time. I shake my head and ignore how my chest tightens and how the storm rages through my body at his proximity.

I turn to meet his intense eyes, his gaze matching mine. I know that look; it’s the one I see when I look in the mirror.

Longing.

I blink and break the tension. “Why did we need to meet?”

He clears his throat and exhales. “Hi.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to hide a smile. I want to ignore his small talk and get to the point. Salvatore obviously has other plans. “Hi.”

A smile spreads across his face, and I return it with a small smile of my own.

His eyes sparkle as they burn my skin while they roam my body, from my face down to my cleavage and to my mid-thighs, where my red dress ends. I use his distraction to do the same; his casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his forearms showing the flex of his muscles. My eyes drop down. He’s wearing jeans. This is the first time I really notice his change in looks. This casual man is so different from the one I used to know. Maybe on the outside, but I’m almost sure he is the same person on the inside.

Is he, though?a small voice in my head asks.

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