Page 78 of Salvatore

“I can do what?” I rasp, my throat painfully hoarse. “How?… I don’t?—”

“Forget it. I’ll carry you.” He inches closer.

“No.” I shake my head. Retreat. “I-I’ll…”

What, Ivy? You’ll Spiderman your way around this city skyscraper on your own?

I shuffle closer to the parapet. There’s still a good foot and a half between me and the concrete divider separating me from death. More of the street below comes into view, the plunging height making my stomach crawl its way into my esophagus. Next will be my heart and lungs. If I take another step I’ll be regurgitating my large intestine.

“Come on, Salvo,” his brother growls. It’s the older one. The man known to be one half of the Butcher Boys of Baltimore. I think his name is Matthew. “We don’t have time for this.”

He’s right. We don’t. Gabriel’s men will barge into my room at any minute. I could get caught half way across. Then what would happen?

“Mi bella reina.” Salvatore’s endearment is a subtle murmur near my ear, his tone dark and velvety as he settles against my back. “I listened when you told me not to walk from that bedroom and slaughter every man within the walls of that apartment for what they’ve done to you. So now it’s time for you to listen to me.” His palms graze my hips, gentle yet commanding. “Let me do this for you. Let down your guard and have faith in me. Just for a little while—barely even a few minutes.”

I swallow down my insides, not wanting to trust him with my life and wanting nothing more at the same time. I’ve been independent for so long. Guarded and alone. “Are you capable of carrying me across?”

“I’ve carried you before under much more dire circumstances.”

I turn to him. “More dire?”

“Up a flight of stairs with a hard-on and a one-track mind not to fuck you in the hall was far more challenging.”

Heat radiates in my chest, the memory flooding back in a rush.

“I can do this.” He holds my gaze, dark and intense, as he palms the material of my dress and begins inching it upward.

“Wait.” I slap my hands over his. “What are you doing?”

“Hiking the hem over your hips.”

“Why?” I fret, given the lack of underwear beneath.

“You need to wrap your legs around me and hold on while I carry you.” He continues hefting the hem skyward.

“No.Stop.”

His smirk is subtle. “I understand your attachment to the dress, having worn it for weeks now and all, but if the material stretches I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I’ve been wearing this godforsaken dress for so long because I wasn’t exactly afforded a budget for costume changes.” I keepmy hands firmly gripped on his, my nails digging into his skin. “And I can’t raise the hem because what the last few weeks also hasn’t afforded me is new underwear after someone stole mine the day I was abducted.”

Any sense of humor slowly bleeds from his features as his eyes search mine.

Yes, you deliciously gorgeous thieving asshole. I was trapped with predators without underwear.

One of his brothers gives an awkward clearing of his throat and the tense visual standoff ends.

Salvatore’s face hardens. “I’ll tear it then.” He bends down on one knee, fists the hem in both hands, then yanks.

I jolt with the rough movement, the material ripping to leave a long slit that ascends my right thigh.

“That should be enough.” He stands, admiring his handiwork. “Ready to climb aboard, troublemaker?”

My internal organs volt back into my throat.

This can’t be happening.

He steps into me, his expensive loafers brushing between my bare feet. “I’m going to pick you up. You need to hold tight.” He grabs my hips and lifts.

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