Page 87 of Salvatore

“I have the manpower to take out the entire Baltimore cartel?—”

“Youmight, butIdon’t. I don’t even have somewhere to stay, Salvatore. I have no money. No phone. No car.”

“You’ll have all those things. I just need to arrange them to be bought for you.”

He’s serious. Seriously unhinged, and yet still so captivatingly serious.

“I’ll protect you,” he vows.

I swallow. Emotionally wither. “How?”

“However I see fit.”

I scoff, the double dose of cocky arrogance renewing my necessity to flee. “As tempting as that offer sounds…” I take another retreating step. “I’m going to have at it on my own.”

He grins, as if enjoying the thought of me running.

My heart skips an idiotic beat.

“Salvatore,” I warn, backtracking.

“Ivy,” he drawls, following.

I want him to stop. To quit the promises and protection. But I also want to drown in a sea of it, all the crazy that is him soaking into my skin and infiltrating my lungs.

“Let me leave,” I say.

“And go where?”

“I can bide my time until tomorrow night. Then I’ll get on the club scene and find someone I know to give me a warm bed for a few nights.”

His expression hardens. “Someone? Or someman?”

I don’t respond—just keep trekking backward.

“You would fuck a man for safe harbor?” he demands.

I raise my chin, ignoring the shame. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Just as long as that man isn’t me,mi bella reina?”

I scrunch my nose, hating how that address makes me instantly achy. “You’re the enemy to the man who’s supposed to be my father.”

“An enemy to my enemy is my friend, right?”

I feel like I’ve been swept back into the 16th century, directly in the heart of fair Verona.

These violent delights have violent ends.

I keep striving for distance, keep maintaining the foot of space between us, not allowing the heavenly scent of his aftershave to weaken my defenses. “You said I can’t go upstairs.”

He inclines his head.

“But you’re expected up there,” I add.

He shrugs. “Meeting expectations isn’t my strong suit.”

“Neither is maintaining personal boundaries.” I plant my feet and hold up my hands, keeping a buffer between us as I palm his annoyingly muscled chest. “Why would you go against your family?”

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