Page 182 of Salvatore

Like a fucking snail on beta blockers.

I don’twanthis money. Being indebted like this feels—I straighten against the prickling shiver running down my spine. It feels… overwhelming. Stifling.

“It’s just money, Ivy. Don’t put an unrealistic value on it.”

“An unrealistic value?” My voice waivers. “Didn’t you force yourself to play nice with your evil mother for years all for the sake ofjust money?”

His hands fall to his sides. “You’re thinking too much into it.”

“And maybe you’re not thinking enough. I could start a new life with that amount of cash. I could run and hide.”

“You could,” he bites back.But you know I’d always find youis etched in the confident tilt of his brows.

He takes the baby name book from my hands and flicks through it. “I’ll transfer more once some of my assets have been made liquid.”

“Youdid notjust say that,” I seethe. “I don’twantmore. I don’t even want what you’ve already given. At least not when I haven’t made up my mind.”

“You have. And so have I. We’re in agreement.”

“I thought you made a vow not to force me.”

“I’m not forcing. This is support.” He turns and walks for the door. “Encouragement at best.”

I want to tell him where to shove his so-called encouragement, but his continued loyalty acts like a persistent wind, eroding the edges of my independence.

I admire his selflessness.

Adore his devotion.

“You realize I could lose it, right?” I climb to my feet with a wince, the ache in my belly restricting me from going after him. “That even if I decided not to get an abortion, a lot of women miscarry in the early months. And that’s women with stable lives, ones who haven’t been made into human dartboards.”

He pauses in the doorway, meeting my eyes. “I know the statistics.”

God, I hate this—his stoicism in the face of my uncertainty. His confidence. His pure, undaunted composure.

“Well, if I did keep it, you best believe I won’t be sticking to your live-under-my-roof, in-my-bed, on-my-dick wish-list.” I’m trying to pick a fight now, attempting to unsettle him so we’re on the same erratic page.

“I know that, too,mi reina.” He hits me with a somber smile. “That’s why I don’t expect to be a part of your future. I’m not a man any woman would want in the vicinity of their child. My sister is proof of that. So I’ll trust your judgment on parental decisions. Even if that means I have to be kept at a distance.”

37

SALVATORE

I’m notsure the dissolution of my parental rights has the wanted effect because Ivy looks downright nauseous for the remainder of the morning as she rests on the living room sofa, surrounded by Olivia, Abri, and Layla.

The other women attempt to include her in whatever obnoxiously loud conversation they’re chuckling and chattering about, but the tension in Ivy’s smile and the anxiety in her eyes are dead giveaways she’s not in her usual sassy, happy place.

“We should get back to Baltimore,” Bishop mutters from the opposite side of the dining table. “There’s a little girl who won’t talk to me for a month if I’m not home in time to take her to the park this afternoon.”

“Our transport is already on standby.” Matthew focuses on me from beside Bishop. “But first, I want details on your next move.”

“What next move?” I drum my fingers on the table. Restless. Annoyed.

“Don’t play dumb, Salvo,” Remy mutters from the seat beside me. “It’s not like you wouldn’t have some sort of plan up your sleeve.”

I actually don’t.

Nothing of substance anyway.

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