Page 51 of Seduced By the Enemy

“Okay.” Still he hesitated. He didn’t know what he could say to fix this. “None of this was her fault.”

Leandro laughed then, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “You think I don’t know that?”

Salvatore held his ground, but inside, his organs were in freefall.

“My sister is as innocent as the day is long. She is sweet and kind; she’s no match for someone like you, for Christ’s sake. You must have realized that.”

He’d been punched by this man, multiple times, yet it was these words that landed like a total body blow against him. Because hehadrealized it. In fact, she’d all but said it. She’d admitted her inexperience, told him why his own history with women bothered her. He should have walked away from this then. He should have walked away so hard and fast.

“If you care about her at all, you will leave here now, and forget about her.”

Salvatore fought that idea internally—there was no way he could forget her.

“She could never be happy with you. Not knowing what the price of that happiness would be.”

“And what price is that?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Salvatore waited, body tense, staring at the other man.

“There is absolutely no reality in which Emilia and you can be together, in which she is also a part of our family. It would destroy my parents, but that would be their line. So if you care about her, walk away. Do it for her.”

Salvatore’s entire body was in a state of paralysis. He shook his head, once, rejecting that assertion, wanting to tell the other man not to be so ridiculous. But then, every flash of conversation with Emilia cleared into his mind. Every small reference she’d made to her family, making it clear how close they were, how much she valued them.

“Give her the note,” he said, quietly, taking a step backwards. Maybe space was the best idea—for both of them.

He turned and stalked away from Leandro, towards the hospital doors, so didn’t see the moment the other man pulled the note from his pocket and discarded it in a nearby bin, without so much as reading the contents.

14

TWENTY FOUR HOURS LATER, finally back in her own apartment, Emilia figured she deserved some kind of award for her acting abilities. Leandro had refused to allow her to go home any sooner. Instead, he’d brought her back to the house he shared with his wife Skye and their daughter Harper, so she’d been subjected to Skye’s loving, well-intentioned fussing, and had been completely unable to contact Salvatore. Her bag had been left at the function the night before, and while Leandro had said he’d retrieve it, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was intentionally keeping her separate from her device, to stop her from reaching out to Salvatore.

It was obvious that his misgivings were enormous—and not likely to shift any time soon.

So she played along with their caring and compassionate looking after her, downplaying any physical symptoms even when her whole body ached and her wrist in particular was agonizingly sore. But the worst of all was her heart.

She needed to see Salvatore more than she could say.

Finally, back in her own apartment, she waited ten minutes—not convinced her brother wouldn’t have sat downstairs with thecar idling to be sure she followed his direction of going ‘straight to bed’, and instead hailed a cab, giving the driver Salvatore’s address a little breathlessly.

The doorman, thankfully, recognized her, and let her straight in and up to his level, so moments later, she was pressing the buzzer for his apartment and then waiting, heart in her throat, with no idea what she could say to him. She knew only that it was right—and important—to be here with him.

Everything with Leandro had been a disaster, but it wasn’t the end. It wasn’t the end, by a long shot. Strangely, that arbitrary date they’d set now seemed ludicrous. The thought of walking away from Salvatore was impossible to contemplate. Not when she felt like this.

If there was any possibility he felt the same, then she had to tell him. She had to grab this with both hands. True, it was an almost impossible situation to navigate, but if they faced it together, she knew they could do it.

But the second the door opened to reveal Salvatore on the other side, his face bruised all over, whatever else Emilia had been about to say flew out of her mind. “Oh my God,” she cried, rushing forward and lifting her hands to his cheeks, staring at him as tears filled her eyes then ravaged her cheeks. “Oh my God, oh my God,” she repeated. “I can’t believe it.” Where her brother was sporting a single dark bruise on one cheek, Salvatore looked as though he’d been thumped several times over.

“It all happened so fast, I didn’t see, I didn’t realise. Oh my God,” she cried then, her voice wobbling. “I’m so sorry.”

He stood perfectly still, absorbing her words, just staring down at her, his dark eyes latched to hers, somehow bringing stillness, so after a moment, she shook her head in an attempt to clear the tears. “I’m going to kill him,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” Salvatore said, angling his face away a little. “Believe me, if that had been Sofia, I would have done the same thing.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she sobbed. “I know you.” She ran her fingers over his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop saying that. This isn’t your fault.”

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