Page 37 of Kissing the Villain

“Marcello.” I slid my palm over his heart, feeling his heartbeat beneath my fingers until my body relaxed. “My nightmares went away… until you brought me back here.”

He sighed, pushing my hair off my sweaty forehead. “I’m sorry. But this is what’s best for you. We’re doing this for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Either I was delirious or still dreaming because nothing Marcello said made sense. When did any of the Salvatores care about what was best for me? And Marcello, of all people, was comforting me. Like, he gave a damn. This was weird but also nice.

He sat up, bringing me with him. “Time to get up, princess.”

“I need coffee and a shower.”

Marcello tipped his head at the silver tray on the writing desk. A smile tugged at my mouth as our eyes met. I slid my legs off the bed, stretching my arms above my head, his dress shirt riding up my stomach as I yawned. His eyes darted up and down the length of my body, and he licked his lips.

Ignoring his heated gaze, I poured myself a cup of coffee.

“We leave in one hour.”

I added cream and sugar and spun around, sipping from my cup. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you shopping. Get whatever you need while we’re out.”

“Am I a prisoner or a guest in this house?”

“A guest.”

“Can I drive myself to get coffee and buy art supplies?”

He shook his head. “Your doctor hasn’t cleared you to drive.”

Damn.

I hoped to regain my driving privileges now that I was in Devil’s Creek.

“I need to work. You can’t force me to live here and do nothing all day.”

“You can use my mother’s studio if you behave yourself.”

My frown turned into a grin. “Really?”

He dropped into the armchair by the window. “If you stop asking so many questions and don’t give me shit.”

“I’m hungry.” Holding my coffee in one hand, I rubbed my belly. “Think we can stop somewhere to eat?”

Marcello removed his cell phone from his pocket and clicked the buttons. “Answer the door when they knock.”

“I didn’t tell you what I want to eat.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and continued typing on his phone. “You eat wheat toast with butter andraspberry jam every morning. And you take your coffee with extra cream and three sugars. I know everything about you.”

The Salvatores knew way too much about me. It was fucking creepy as hell. I wondered what they did with the secrets of their enemies. Did they hold them over their head as they did to my grandfather, or did they expose them?

I didn’t care about any of my secrets. But Pops… and Aiden. Did my brother owe them a debt he could never repay? If he were dead, the police would have uncovered his body by now.

He was alive.

I could feel it.

A few minutes later, someone knocked on the door. A man handed me a tray and walked away without a word. I sat at the writing desk and buttered a slice of wheat toast, topping it with a spoonful of jam.

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