Page 46 of Ruthless Roses

“You seem like you have a lot on your mind,” Salvatore says. He’s entered the dining room with the energy of someone who’s had a busy day. On his way to his chair, he drops a kiss on my cheek.

I can barely muster up a smile. The one I do produce is subdued, my mind as busy as Salvatore’s picked up on it being. “Sorry,” I say, reaching for my cloth napkin. “I didn’t even realize you were home.”

“Did you think I’d miss Shonda’s beef wellington Thursdays?” Humor swirls in his blue-green eyes.

I’d laugh if I could force my mind to stop being preoccupied. Instead, I wear the same faint smile and lay my cloth napkin into my lap.

“Tell me about your day,” I say.

“I’d rather you tell me about yours. What’s bothering you, Phi?”

“It’s kind of silly. I went for a jog with Sasha and ran into Chadwick.”

Any good-natured humor vanishes from Salvatore’s face. He remains composed otherwise, though his dislike is tangible in much the same way Chadwick’s was earlier. The two men have never been fans of each other.

“Chadwick, huh?” Salvatore repeats, sipping from his drink. “How is he doing these days? Is he still screaming like a schoolgirl anytime anybody brandishes a steak knife?”

“No,” I answer, “only when you do it.”

“Good. So he knows not to fuck around.”

“As do most people the second they meet you,” I tease, and then sigh as I return to the topic at hand. “He mentioned my father has health complications.”

“What kind of health complications?”

“I’m not sure. Some kind of medical diagnosis. He wouldn’t say anything else when pressed for more.”

“Could he have been talking about his chest wounds? From the shooting?”

I shrug and smooth my hand across the cloth napkin in my lap. “It could be anything, I guess. I don’t know much about what’s going on with my father these days.”

“Would you like to?”

His question earns a surprised glance from me. I look up from my lap and meet his gaze.

For once, I can’t make out what he’s thinking and feeling—and Salvatore and I are skilled at reading other. I can usually figure out what he means by a simple look in his direction. The same can be said for him and how well he reads me.

Yet, as I stare at him from across the dinner table, I’m not sure why he’s asking. If I didn’t know any better, I say he’s interested in my answer either way.

Shrugging, I answer honestly. “It would be nice to see him. But I also understand that it’s complicated. My father refuses to respect our relationship. Our marriage comes first. I won’t let him make trouble for us.”

“If you’re holding back on my account, you shouldn’t,” he says. “Your father has always been important to you.”

“So have you.”

“I can handle him. Speak to your father. Invite him over for dinner. Maybe extending an olive branch will show him we can coexist.”

My brows knit in confusion. “Am I speaking to an AI bot right now? What have you done with Salvatore?”

He picks up his glass with an indifferent vibe. “Phi, your father doesn’t faze me. He never has and he never will. I might’ve let him piss me off in the past, but those days are over. Invite him to a family dinner. Let’s give him a chance.”

I can’t put my finger on what Salvatore’s angle is, yet I can’t deny it sounds like a potentially good idea. Maybe if we did extend an olive branch, Dad would finally be willing to let up on his disapproval. Maybe consider coming around.

“It’s worth a try,” I say slowly, then I smile. “Are you really okay with it? You’ll make an effort to get along?”

He grins. “Of course. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

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