Page 29 of Salvatore

SALVATORE

You’d think being slightlywinded and publicly humiliated would have an adverse effect on my dick. But it seems nothing stands in the way of my lust for this woman.

She’s a fucking tornado, the wind catching in her hair the moment she steps outside, the breeze kicking at the loose black material around her calves.

I spare a second to pull myself together, then follow her, but the brief pause of hesitation is enough to allow her to disappear.

She’s nowhere in sight as I stand at the top of the few stairs leading down to the club doors. Not along the sidewalk. Not in the growing line of people waiting to get inside.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Costa?” the bouncer asks from his podium as he checks IDs.

He should’ve received word to stop Ivy from escaping. Obviously he didn’t. Turns out Remy’s staff aren’t competent after all.

“No. There’s no problem.” I scan the block one last time, scrutinizing the shadows, checking the passing cars, then drag my ass back inside.

I return to my siblings and their insignificant others. I drink more bourbon and ignore all conversation. And while normally I’d rein in my reckless thoughts, tonight I let them run free.

I sit in silence, allowing the dark eyes and thick ebony hair of my provocateur to wreak havoc over my concentration.

She doesn’t know about Olivia and Remy.

Her best friendhasbeen keeping secrets, and if the relationship is still under wraps, I’d bet it’s safe to assume the agreement with the unlawful disposal of bodies would be too.

Ivy may not have to die after all.

Then why does she claim to know me?

“It’s time to call it a night.” Bishop slides from the opposite side of the booth, his gaze on me as Abri follows close behind him. “I’d say it was great catching up, but I’ve had better conversations with a milk carton.”

My sister chuckles. “I don’t think we should complain about him being quiet. I prefer it to the alternative.”

I give her the bird, then turn my attention to Bishop. “I want that background check yesterday.”

“You’ll get it when it’s done.” He gives me a dismissive glance and turns his attention to Matthew. “I’ll?—

“I’m not fucking around.” I raise my voice.

“And he’s not incompetent.” Abri gives me that annoyed sister scowl she perfected in childhood. “Like he said, you’ll get it when it’s done.”

Matthew and Layla scoot around the U bend of the booth, following the others. “We’re going to make a move, too. We’re heading back to D.C. in a few hours. I need to catch some sleep before then.” My brother stands and holds out a hand to Layla, helping her to her feet. “We’ll see you again soon, Salvo. Hopefully under better circumstances.”

“I’m sure you will.” I dismiss them all with a jerk of my chin.

Abri rolls her eyes.

Matthew smirks.

What? Do they expect a fucking hug?

They pigeonholed me as the family asshole a long time ago. It takes little effort to keep the title.

I don’t bother watching them leave. I order another drink from the scan code on the table and fall back into thoughts of Ivy. Scrutinizing our conversations. Dissecting every word.

The media hasn’t painted me as a local villain yet. Despite the blood that’s been shed in Baltimore since my arrival, the lack of dead bodies—thanks to the Pelosis’ cremator—has meant that there’s been little news of our growing rivalry with the Mexican cartel.

So nobody, apart from those involved, should know enough about my role in the family business to fear me.

Yet Ivy does.

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