Page 183 of Salvatore

Decision-making used to be a sport—destroy an enemy asset, order a hit, frame someone for a crime—but the variables have changed now Ivy’s carrying my child.

It’s like I’ve been leashed, no longer able to kick the hornet’s nest from fear the backlash will come back to sting her instead of me.

“I’m going to listen to Lorenzo.” I shrug. “We’ll sit tight for a while and hope things cool down.”

Bishop scoffs.

Remy frowns.

Matthew narrows his eyes, as if attempting to see through my words to the hidden motivation beneath. “You’regoing to sit tight?”

“That’s what I said.”

Remy and Bishop continue to stare as if my statement is a puzzle that needs to be deciphered while Matthew leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re worried about her.”

No shit.

“Of course I’m fucking worried.” My attention gravitates back to Ivy, like it has all morning. She looks uncomfortable, her usual ball-busting exuberance hidden under a slightly paler shade of beautiful.

I need to speak to Flores about pain management but that fucker has extended the time between her vital checks to four hours and hasn’t been seen since breakfast.

“You know you’re not alone in this, right?” Remy’s attention skewers my periphery from the seat beside me. “We’re in this together.”

“We?” I drag a droll look to Bishop. “Does he speak for you,Butcher?”

“No.” His jaw ticks. “But your sister does, and unfortunately she’s already made it clear we’re team baby-daddy so get used to seeing my pretty face, motherfucker.” He pushes from the table. “Just don’t go making any rash decisions because I’ll still happily kill you for dragging me into unnecessary danger, and make it look like an accident.”

I roll my eyes as Matthew and Remy follow him to their feet.

“We need to take off, too.” Remy claps me on the shoulder. “But I meant what I said. We’re in this with you.”

I’m not sure what’s more unsettling—having support from my brothers or the sinking sensation in my gut that has me wanting to believe them.

All three men move toward the women, and I begrudgingly follow, my jaw tightening at the discomfort gnawing at me whenever anyone stands closer to Ivy than I do.

They say their goodbyes—the women hugging Ivy after she woodenly stands, my brothers offering far more subtle farewell cues.

“Try to enjoy bunkering down for a little while longer. You need to take the time to heal.” Matthew turns to me. “And once Lorenzo has gotten over his anger and?—”

“Uncontrollable resentment,” Bishop cuts in.

“—frustration.” Matthew grates. “I’m sure you two can figure out what needs to be done.”

I jerk my chin in acknowledgement, not wanting to talk business in front of Ivy. She’s already been through enough, and the thousands of fucking pregnancy websites I’ve scrolled through all state she needs to distance herself from stress.

“I’m going to keep my brother informed on what’s happening, too,” Layla adds solemnly.

Ivy frowns and glances at Olivia as if waiting for an explanation.

“Cole Torian,” I offer. “He’s in the same business, but on the opposite side of the country.”

“He’s an intimidating and powerful man,” Abri says. “Very scary. Very cutthroat.”

Layla chuckles. “Although factual, those attributes work in our favor because he’s on our team.”

“Are you sure about that?” I meet her gaze. “He’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“To be honest, before yesterday nobody was.” Abri beams a viperous smile. “But in this situation we need all the help we can get.”

---