Page 121 of Salvatore

Her smile turns gentle. “You missed out on the bruschetta I served an hour ago. Salvatore came to get you but said you were sleeping and insisted we let you rest.”

I clench my stomach, refusing to allow unwanted butterflies to awaken.

“I’m just concerned you haven’t eaten much today.” Her brow creases in apology. “I didn’t want you to miss out on dinner too.”

“No, it’s okay. I appreciate it.” I slide from the bed. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She nods and leaves while I continue to the bathroom to freshen up.

A few minutes later I’m slightly presentable, still dressed in my stonewashed jeans and cheap blouse, my head pounding in time with my pulse—because afternoon naps were invented by the devil—as I make my walk of shame toward a dining table filled with serving platters artfully arranged with food.

There’s crispy roasted chicken, golden risotto, and a fresh salad full of vibrant greens and drizzled with a yellow dressing. It’d be enough to make my mouth water… if I wasn’t so concerned about the four place settings.

The only one remaining vacant is right next to Salvatore, who sits with his back to me, directly across from a drowsy-eyed Liv and her besotted lover who watches my approach with a subdued but welcoming smile.

“Sorry.” I pull out my allocated chair, subtly dragging it an inch away from the domineering man beside me who’s typing a message into his phone, either ignoring or indifferent to my arrival. “You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

The room is quiet, Catarina having made herself scarce, but it feels like there’s a whole hell of a lot of unspoken conversation revolving around me and my unfortunate taste in men.

“We haven’t been waiting long.” Liv peers up at me with an intoxicated glaze softening her features. “Enjoy your nap?”

“Yeah. I guess.” I take my seat. “You look well and truly liquored.”

She grins. “I’ve used the time wisely. Life’s too short, right?”

“Yours definitely will be if you don’t find a filter,” Salvatore mutters under his breath as he places his cell down on the table.

Remy glares at his brother and grabs a serving spoon, placing a heaping pile of risotto onto Liv’s plate. “Be warned—” He meets my gaze. “—Someone is in a bad mood.”

I clasp a theatrical hand to my chest. “Surely it’s not you, Sally.”

It’s as if the entire room freezes—Remy pausing mid food service, Liv seeming to hold her breath—as Salvatore turns that gorgeously stone-faced expression to me with the raise of a condemning brow.

Shit.

My taunts seem a teeny, tiny bit more troublesome now that I know what he’ll soon become. It should be enough to shrivel my tenacity, but the only thing currently shriveling under the intensity of his stare is my goddamn panties.

“I’ve previously outlined the effect your name-calling has on me.” His voice is a velvety growl. “Test me again and you’ll get a presentation.”

A flush creeps up my neck, the X-rated warning turning my insides to mush.

Apparently the peanut gallery doesn’t understand the threat though because Liv’s drunken glow has vanished, leaving her frozen in horror.

“Can we maybenotthreaten women at the dinner table?” Remy serves chicken onto Olivia’s plate. “It would be nice if I could pretend you were civilized for at least one meal.”

“No, it’s my fault.” I clear the tightness from my throat, hoping my sarcasm isn’t distinguishable to anyone but the man it’s directed to. “Salvatore has been very adult in communicating his triggers and establishing clear boundaries. It was my fault for ignoring them.” I grab the tongs and help myself to the salad. “I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” Salvatore slides his arm over the back of my chair and leans close, murmuring menacingly in my ear, “But if you keep pushing me,mi reina, I’m not opposed to spreading you out across this dining table and making you my meal, our audience be damned.”

I stiffen, no place more adamant than my nipples.

“Leave her alone,” Liv demands. “She’s been through enough.”

“That she has.” Salvatore’s tone is menacing as he removes his arm from the back of my chair only to grab the top of the wooden legs and drag me closer. “But don’t worry, Olivia—I’ve been taking good care of her. My hospitality knows no bounds, as you witnessed earlier.”

Liv glowers while I fight the insurgence of red-hot heat taking over me. He’s always different around others. More rough around the edges. His carefree playfulness gone.

“Can I have the water jug, please?” I hold out a hand, to somebody—anybody—willing to help me cause a distraction.

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