Page 22 of Salvatore

She blinks in shock. “Yes. Of course. I didn’t think. I just?—”

I step away, returning my attention to Ivy who now sits on the outdoor bench, fingers entwined in her lap, head bowed, tissues fisted.

I scan the courtyard for Olivia but she’s gone, leaving my troublemaker alone.

Isolated.

Looking defeated.

I don’t get a kick out of the sight like I do when she’s all wild and venomous. She’s a woman born to exchange blows. To fight. To retaliate. Her softer side makes me… I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s not appreciated.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got your balls tied in knots over a funeral home employee, too,” Matthew mutters behind me.

I ignore him and down the final dredges of my coffee.

“There’s been some developments.” He leans in close, his voice shifting to a low murmur. “Our brother got creative with a funeral attendee in the male restrooms. We need to make sure the guy disappears.”

I pivot to stare at him.

“Don’t ask.” Matthew eyes the people surrounding us. “But being the busy bee Remy is, our favorite brother is now in the catering kitchen where Olivia is in the middle of a biblical-level waterworks display. The grief finally hit her and I want to use it as a diversion to get people out of here. If you can drive her and Remy home, everyone else should clear out.”

Fucking family.

“Yeah. Fine. I’ll do it.” I rake a rough palm over my day-old stubble. “Do you need help with the bathroom issue?”

He raises a brow, the condescension a blatant sign that he’s assumed my kill tally is laughable and my clean-up experience nonexistent.

God, it’d be nice to be that ignorant.

“No.” There’s humor in his voice. “I think we’ve got the bathroom issue under control. Just get Remy and Olivia out of here. I’ll have them meet you in the parking lot.”

I ignore his ill-advised judgment, like I always fucking do, and dig into my pocket for my car fob. “Give me your keys. Use my wheels for transporting the issue. It’s a rental. You can torch it when you’re done.”

He reaches into his pants pocket to do the same, exchanging his fob for mine. “Appreciated.” Then he’s walking away, strolling, casual and calm, as if he doesn’t have a body to relocate that’s currently surrounded by a room full of witnesses.

I dump my coffee mug on a nearby table and stride for the glass doors, my pulse thudding for reasons unknown as I break out into the open air.

“Until we meet again, troublemaker.” I stride for the parking lot, gaze fixed on her.

She stiffens and her jaw ticks, yet she doesn’t raise her face to look at me as I walk past.

My pulse increases with each step, waiting for her to insult me, to taunt.

It’s strange but I fucking ache for it, the anticipation clawing at my insides. I reach the edge of the courtyard unsatisfied and hesitate before walking out of view, like she’s created some fucking vortex of unfulfillment that I can’t step away from.

I shoot a glance at her over my shoulder, her dark hair glossy in the sunlight, the curve of her shoulders set in defeat.

“Be on the lookout, Ivy,” I call out. “You never know when I’ll be watching.”

Finally her gaze snaps up, animosity evident in those narrowed eyes. “Go to hell, you fucking fridge magnet.”

I smirk. I can’t help myself.

Eloquence might not be her strong suit, but I’m beginning to believe riling me is her God-given birth right.

6

SALVATORE

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