Page 64 of Wicked Roses
Salvatore is a lot of bad things, but his touch has always been good—wanted.
After what I’ve been through, it means the world.
“Phi,” he says, easing me back by the arm. “I still don’t know what we’re dealing with. You seem to think this is some guy off the street.”
“You seem to think it’s not. Care to explain why?”
He husks out a deep breath. “I can’t tell you the full story. But I have reason to believe someone was targeting you—a lot happened the night of your attack. The guy who broke into your apartment was probablyhiredto do so. Who have you pissed off lately?”
“I can fill up a book with names. Pissing people off is part of the job as ADA.”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
“The Belinis?”
“I’m looking into it. It’s complicated.” He lets go of my arm and returns to his coffee. “Now will you stand down?”
“No,” I answer. “Salvatore, I don’t care who it is.Iwant to handle it myself.”
He peers at me for a long moment, his sun-in-his-eyes squint returning. “Does that mean you’re not going to ditch my security anymore?”
“Yes.”
“And, should a situation arise where we do find out who it is, you’re not going to try and confront this guy without me?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll wait ’til I look into the guy who broke into your apartment before doing anything?”
“Also yes.”
“What’s the catch?”
“You don’t hide anything from me. I want to know what you know. I want to do it myself.”
His jaw clenches. “I hope you don’t mean what I think you do.”
“I want him to suffer, Salvatore. But I want to be the one who decides how. That’smyright.”
He takes so long to give me his answer that I don’t think it’s what I’m hoping for. He chugs the last of his coffee and moves into the kitchen to pour a second cup. I follow him with my eyes, my heart beating fast despite how still I’m standing.
If he doesn’t agree, then I’ll be packing my bags and leaving. As appreciative as I am of his help so far, I can’t let him take over this fight.
It’s bad enough last night we got carried away and lines blurred more than ever.
Anothercan of worms I’m avoiding addressing—we haven’t discussed what it means. Exes relapse all the time. We’ve been living together for weeks. It was bound to happen.
Yet now that I’ve slept with Salvatore again, I’m not sure I have enough self-control for it to be a fluke. I’ve started craving a second round... and more.
“Salvatore,” I say, refocusing on the matter at hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“I’m guessing you’ll pack your bags if we don’t.”
I smirk. “You know me well.”
“That’s how obsessions tend to work.”
My heart ticks an extra beat. Last night Salvatore made a confession I wasn’t expecting—he alluded to being infatuated with me. Maybe more than I’ve ever comprehended. All I know is his words had diluted my anger and made me want nothing more in the moment than to feel his skin on my skin.