Page 25 of Salvatore

“Because she knows me, and she shouldn’t. She has inside knowledge and I need to understand how she got it.”

They all look at me in confusion—Matthew and Layla. Bishop and Abri—until finally Layla’s face slackens. “You think Olivia told her about the agreement?”

Abri’s eyes widen.

Matthew’s jaw tenses.

Bishop continues to glower.

“It’s a possibility.” I tap my phone screen, downplaying the threat as I order the same drinks we’ve received three times already.

Matthew drags a rough hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

“I’ve got it under control.” I lock my cell and slide it back into my pocket. “I’ll handle?—”

“Forgive me, brother,” Abri sneers, “But having the fate of the woman Remy loves in the hands of my most unforgiving sibling doesn’t really fill me with a giddy sense of relief. Maybe Matthew and Bishop should handle this.”

I smile, all teeth and no charm. “Although your lack of faith in me cuts deep, what’s more concerning is your inability to understand that I’m now in control. Matthew and Bishop took a step back from the family business. They work formenow.”

“What’s fucking concerning is that you think controlling the family business also means controlling the family—” She slams her palms down on the table, threatening to stand. “—But the day you control me is the day I stab a fork through your eye socket and lobotomize your dumb ass. Do you hear me?”

I roll my eyes as I down the final dregs of my bourbon.

“You think I’m joking?” Her manicured nails dig into the polished wood. “I’ll fuck you up, Salvatore.”

I don’t doubt she’d try.

“He’s baiting you,” Matthew drawls. “He’s not going to do anything without proof.” The look my once-estranged brother gives me is lethal. “The woman could know you for a million reasons.”

“I’m well aware of that.” I incline my head. “That’s why all I asked for was a fucking background check. I’m not the one jumping to conclusions.” Not out loud anyway. “Just get me the information and pretend everything is as it should be until we’re fully informed.”

“Sure thing,boss.” Bishop claps his glass down on the table harder than necessary, then reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out his cell. “I’ll text my contact and make sure he does athoroughcheck this time.”

Abri’s glare doesn’t waver. Layla glances between us as if she’s watching a tennis match. And Matthew and Bishop stare at each other as if they hold some sort of telepathic bond, their silent conversation hidden from the rest of us.

“Let me know as soon as you have the information.” I scoot my ass out of the booth, needing a breather from their judgment.

“Where are you going?” Abri demands.

“Wherever the fuck I want.” I walk for the VIP bar, taking a detour to the bathrooms along the way.

It’s not like I had a choice in being the heartless asshole of the sibling quartet.

It wasn’t safe to indulge in a bond with my brothers and sister after Matthew ran away and left me to take pole position as my father’s protege.

I stop before the bar where the male mixologists are making quick work of orders as leggy waitresses stand ready with poised trays. I turn my back to them, leaning an elbow against the counter as I focus on the path leading to the dance floor.

Women gossip and giggle. Men loiter close to the VIP entry, no doubt hoping to score a crumb of attention.

I’ve never been one to seek female interest. At least not for anything other than a quick fuck. Last weekend with Ivy had been an anomaly.

Maybe it was because I’d been so fucking tired of watching Remy like a hawk as he snuck around behind my back, trying—and failing—to hide his infatuation with Olivia. Or how the cartel had put a hit on him without even considering how I would retaliate. Or the fact that Lorenzo had shut me down from takingaction against our enemies, despite how fucking weak it makes us look.

I’d wanted to release some of my pent-up hostility on an unknowing victim.

Then I’d caught sight of her at the bar and succumbed to the need for a different sort of indulgence.

She’d demanded my attention by merely existing—the way she held herself, the confidence, the goddamn sex appeal.

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