by Cecy Robson
I smirk. It’s either that or crack up again.
“Salvatore,” she whispers. “They heard us.”
If I didn’t think her face could get more red, she proved me wrong then. I throw my legs over the edge and march toward her. “They were bound to hear something sooner or later.”
She hooks on her bra, her thin brows drawing tight. Even when she’s pissed, she’s still damn cute. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working,” she fires back.
She slips her sweater dress over her head, but when she reaches for her leggings, I clasp her arms and kiss her. “They like you,” I say between kisses. “Take their anger for what it is. They don’t want me with anyone else.” My tongue slips into her ear. “Not that I blame them.”
She jerks away from me. “I have to go.”
I shake my head, following her toward the bathroom. “Call in sick. Stay with me. Let’s make up for our time apart. We’ll go to brunch or order in. Your choice. I just want you with me.”
She smiles in that way I love that tells me she doesn’t want to leave. But that’s not what she says. “I can’t,” she tells me. She lifts up to kiss my chin before disappearing into my bathroom.
For a long few seconds, all I do is stare at the door. She’s my woman now. It’s the old school man in me that wants to take care and provide for her―so she doesn’t have to work and so she’s stays with me permanently. But she’s not my wife. And, unlike Donnie, she doesn’t want to live as a kept woman.
I tug on a pair of sweats, wrestling with what to do. If I offer to pay for her to take the day off, I’m only treating her like a whore. I can’t make her stay, even though I want her with me. Again, I remind myself that she’s not my wife. But the fact that I’m even thinking the word “wife” is messed up.
She slips out of the bathroom, her face freshly washed and her hair brushed. No make-up, and her eyes swollen from lack of sleep.
And she’s beautiful.
“There was an extra toothbrush that hadn’t been opened, so I used it. I’ll pick up a new one for you when I go to the store later.” She tilts her head. “What’s wrong?”
I sit on the edge of the bed, scowling. What am I supposed to say? Don’t go. I’ve missed you and need you with me? No, I’m already enough of a pussy around her. “You don’t owe me a thing. Take whatever you want,” I offer.
I lean back on my hands as she reaches me, trying to put some distance between us so I can let her go home. Aedry doesn’t make it easy. She bends forward to tug on my bottom lip with her teeth. She says she has to leave, but that bite to my lip is practically begging me to pull off her panties.
“Don’t be cranky,” she says. “It’s nothing personal. I have a job and responsibilities, just like you do.”
“I’m not cranky,” I mumble like a dumbass.
“It shows,” she says, laughing.
Anyone else would run for their lives at my glare, but Aedry isn’t anyone. “Has anyone ever told you that you do dark and brooding well?” she teases.
I smack her ass as she walks away, making her jump. “Behave,” she says.
I don’t bother listening, stalking after her when she tries to escape.
She sees me coming and keeps her hand out as she snatches her purse off the floor. “Salvatore,” she says laughing, as I loom closer. “I’m serious.”
She ducks out of my reach and races out the door. I storm after her, watching her pace slow when she finds my brothers in the kitchen. Apollo is bent over a cereal bowl, spooning in the contents for all he’s worth.
Gianno is pretending to read the paper. “Um, see you at school,” Aedry stammers as she swoops past them. Her back is to me, but I don’t have to see her face to know she’s blushing again. This whole scene and how embarrassed the three of them appear should make me laugh. But I can’t, not now.
I follow her out, the coolness in the hallway sweeping against my skin as she stops in front of the elevator and she pushes the button leading down. “Bye, love,” she begins as she turns to face me.
My lips smash against hers, my arms encircling her waist to pull her tight against my body. “Say you’ll stay with me again tonight,” I say, when I break our kiss.
She glances around. “I don’t know. The boys―”
“The boys will deal. You and me are together and what we’re doing is normal. They’re just not used to it being with you.”
She averts her gaze. She didn’t like what I said, probably because it was a stupid comment on my part, reminding her of all the women my brothers have heard me go at it with. But that’s not how I meant it. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m only trying to tell you I want you with me.”
She nods as the elevator chimes open and the doors part. “All right. I’ll stop by tonight.”
She slips from my hold and into the elevator, taking a part of me with her.
Chapter Fifteen
Aedry
“Come shopping with me tomorrow,” Donnie chimes on the other end of the line. “We’ll hit a few shops uptown and maybe catch a late lunch.”
When I first met Donnie, I never expected someone like her to be friends with me. She’s a fabulous city girl, and I’m very much a small-town girl at heart. I was taken aback when she stopped by Sal’s the other week unannounced. I was making them dinner and I wondered how often she dropped in in my absence.
Sal and the boys weren’t particularly excited to see her. They assured me it wasn’t something Donnie often did. Sal especially appeared tense and he kept encouraging her to leave. I convinced him to let her stay for dinner. I’d made a lot of food and she seemed lonely and sad, despite the smile she repeatedly flashed.
Donnie chatted up a storm during our meal, insisting I give her my number. She left abruptly when it was time to clear the table. I didn’t expect her to call, but she had every day since, reinforcing my belief that she lives a lonely life.
“I can’t tomorrow,” I tell her. I race around my office with the receiver tucked between my chin and shoulder as I tidy up.
“Why not? We had so much fun Monday. And, you said yourself, Sal liked the dress I picked out.”
I don’t mention to Donnie that Sal also loved the shoes and the lingerie, but she can probably guess as much. “We’re taking the boys to a winter festival in Pennsylvania,” I explain. “Food, sleigh rides, that sort of thing.”
The first few times Donnie reached out to me, I made excuses to avoid meeting her. I had trouble believing that she and Sal were always “just friends.” She’d spent our entire dinner clinging to him and the boys. It was hard to watch and almost too much to handle.
Donnie is . . . gorgeous. I’m not typically insecure and I’m comfortable with the way I look. But Donnie has a face and body that belongs in Maxim. The only way I’ll ever grace Maxim is if I tape a picture of my face to the cover.
It’s when I realized how desperate Donnie seemed for a friend that I finally gave in. I’m glad I did. Like I suspected, she doesn’t have anyone in her life to lean on. Those women I saw her with at the club were more devoted to what she could do for them than what they could do for her. And regardless of how confident she is in her beauty, those uncertainties she hides beneath trendy clothes and expensive cosmetics poke through when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
“Would you like to come with us?” I ask, realizing how quiet she becomes.
She laughs. It seems forced. “Can you seriously see me on a back of a sleigh?”
I see her point. Our most outdoorsy excursion included a walk through Central Park, following lunch at Tavern on the Green. “No. Not really.”
“Vincent doesn’t like that kind of thing,” she adds quickly, trying to add merit to her argument. “He won’t even take me on a carriage ride through the city.”
Donnie does that a lot, bounces from talking about herself as if she’s single, to reminding me that she’s not. She doesn’t discuss their relationship, aside from comments li
ke, “Vincent says this” or “Vincent bought me that.” From the tidbits I’ve gathered, their relationship is volatile at best. She’s told me she wants more of a commitment, but that Vincent isn’t ready to settle down. She also talks as if Vincent and Salvatore are the best of friends.
When I’ve asked Salvatore about Vincent, Sal shuts down, telling me he doesn’t like to talk about work or his boss when he’s with me.
I sit at my chair and file the folders I’ve been working on all day. I feel bad for Donnie. Everything about her behavior demonstrates that she loves Vincent and that he’s everything to her. I can’t be certain he shares those feelings. His needs always come first and his availability is severely lacking. There are days that I don’t think he calls her at all.
Salvatore and I have been together almost six weeks. We spent Thanksgiving apart when I flew home to North Carolina. Despite how much I’ve missed my family and friends, I was crawling out of my skin with how badly I missed being in Salvatore’s arms.
And I wasn’t alone.
Sal texted me constantly and so did the boys. He picked me up from the airport, greeting me with one hell of a kiss and a few more on the drive back to my apartment. When we arrived and I found almost every square inch covered with vases spilling roses, I teared up.
“Just wanted to show you I missed you,” he said when I turned to kiss him.
Yes. . . Vincent and Donnie have been together longer, but Sal is far more committed. What’s challenging is he still won’t make love to me, even though I’m begging him every time he touches me.
“Aedry?” Donnie says.
I ram the last folder into my drawer. “Sorry,” I offer. “I’m trying to do too many things at once.”
“Oh,” she says, clearly upset that she didn’t have my complete attention.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. I shove my heavy filing cabinet closed. “It’s hard for me to talk at work.” It’s something I’ve often told her, but it doesn’t stop her from calling. It’s only because it’s the end of the day that I was able to take her call this time.
I don’t think most people would be offended. But Donnie is sensitive. I feel terrible about not offering more to the conversation. When she stays silent and all I can think about is her spending her weekend pining over Vincent, I add, “Give some thought to coming with us to the festival. It won’t be an intrusion. My girlfriend, Autumn, is going to join us, if she doesn’t have to cover a shift.”
“Family isn’t my thing,” she says, her tone stiff. “You know that.”
I pause in the middle of shutting down my laptop. As much as she’s repeatedly made this claim, I believe it’s the opposite and something she desires. “Okay. But if you change your mind, send me a text. We’re leaving after breakfast, but by nine at the latest so we can enjoy the day.”
“Nine?” she repeats. “You’re leaving at nine at the latest?” She sighs. “Honey, you know I’m never awake before ten. Besides, I don’t do the mommy thing. Making sure everyone eats and wiping noses is your department, not mine.”
“All right,” I say, slowly. I don’t miss the backhanded compliment, or the insult behind it.
Donnie isn’t mean. Really, she’s not. But she often teases me about becoming the mother Apollo and Gianno need and the one Salvatore needs for them. At first, I took it as good-natured needling. However, she brings up my role this way so often, I’m starting to think she envies the closeness I share with Salvatore and his brothers. I hope that’s not the case. I want her to be happy for the good things Sal and I have, including my relationship with his brothers.
“I have to go,” she says when I remain silent. “I have a nail appointment and I can’t be late if I want to look good for Vin.”
Her constant need to look perfect for Vincent is another thing that worries me about Donnie. I always want to look good for Sal. But considering he’s seen me without makeup and woken beside me after minimal sleep, it’s safe to assume he hasn’t always seen me look my best. But he still greets me with a kiss and longs for my affection. I can’t be sure Vincent would be as forgiving or as kind.
“All right, sweetie,” I say. “I’ll see you next weekend for lunch.”
My term of endearment and my promise to get together brings her back to the Donnie I adore. “Hey, Aedry,” she says, struggling to gather her words. “Have a blast tomorrow, okay?”
“I will, thank you,” I reply, smiling.
“Later, then,” she says and disconnects.
Donnie always has to end the conversation first. What’s the old term, “cut ‘em loose, before they cut you first?” It’s something I’ve come to know about her and it adds to my worry. She’s not perfect, but she’s someone I consider a friend.
My thoughts are on Donnie as I button my black wool coat. Although it’s cost me money, I’ve invested in more clothes, and thanks to Donnie’s tutelage, definitely more style. The knee-high boots and black leather pencil skirt I’m wearing are prime examples, as is the red scarf wrapped around my neck.
A knock to the door has me glancing up. “Hi, Aedry. Are you walking out?”
I return Max’s smile. He’s one of the new part-time counselors, who is connecting well with the students. He leans against the door, the buttons of his coat opening to reveal his cashmere sweater and khakis. “Yes, just give me a minute,” I tell him.
I shut off the desktop lamp and snag my purse. He steps out into the hall, watching me as I lock my office door. It’s not too long ago that I think I would have been attracted to Max. But since meeting Sal, no man can compare.
We walk down the hall. “I was asked to help out with the basketball tournament this weekend,” he says. “Are you going?”
“No, I have plans. When I help out, it’s usually with wrestling.” I don’t add that Gianno and Apollo are on the team and that I attend the meets with Salvatore.
Max grins. “You’re leaving me to fend off the single moms on my own?”
I laugh as we step out of the building and toward the staff parking lot. Max is a pretty boy, one who draws ladies (including some on the staff) like a magnet despite his best efforts to keep a professional distance. “Perhaps Coach Stevenson will let you borrow a bat to beat them off.”
“What I need is a pretty lady by my side. But, if you’re not available . . .” His smile vanishes as a car door slams shut ahead of us.
Salvatore stomps forward. His long black leather coat flying open like a cape and exposing the stone hard muscles pressing against his expensive suit. Menace drips from his pores. I do a double-take, unsure what he’s so upset about. “Hi―”
Sal yanks me to him, crushing his lips against mine and ramming his tongue deep enough to flick my tonsils.
The kiss is brief, but his claim on my waist and the sizzle behind those lips are more suggestive of our time in bed than a simple hello. My face burns as he keeps me anchored to his side and offers Max a hand.
“Hey,” he says, his gravelly voice laced with an extra dose of kick-ass. “I’m Salvatore.”
Poor Max. His eyes widen as he clasps Sal’s hand. I nudge Sal hard when he doesn’t release him.
Max shakes out his hand. “Hi,” he stutters.
I speak through my teeth. “This is my friend, Max. He’s one of the counselors we recently hired.”
Sal fixes Max with a hard stare. “Is he?”
I cover my face, mortified. With a sigh, I drop my hand away and smile, doing my best not to kill my behemoth and insanely jealous boyfriend. “Have a wonderful weekend, Max. I’ll see you Monday at lunch.”
Sal glares daggers at Max. “Why are you meeting him for lunch?”
I meet Sal with a frown of my own. “We have lunch duty together,” I explain. When nothing changes in his features, I jab him in the chest with each word that follows. “You be nice.”
I turn to apologize to Max, but he’s already gone. Seriously. The last thing I see is the back of his foot and the door to the building slamming shut behin
d him.
“You scared him,” I accuse.
Oh, and look at that, he’s smiling.
“Good,” he responds.
From the inside of his SUV, Apollo and Gianno are in hysterics. I narrow my eyes at Sal. “What?” he asks.
“What do you mean ‘what?’ You were horrible to him. Max is a nice man.”
“Who can’t wait to take your panties off,” Salvatore finishes for me.
He huffs when I blink back at him. “Come on, Aedry. I saw the way he acted around you, hanging on your every word, checking you out. I’m not blind and I sure as shit ain’t blind to what a man wants when he sees you―and the way you were, laughing at whatever lines he was feeding you. He’s lucky he’s not laying on the ground bleeding.”
I peer behind his back and along the ground, taking a step back as I make of show of passing my gaze along the cracked sidewalk. “What are you doing?” he asks.
I shrug. “Oh, nothing. Just looking for your club, caveman.”
“I’m not acting like a caveman,” he snaps. “I’m just looking out for my woman.”
“Is that what that was? Here I thought you were just being a jealous lunatic. Silly me.”
His scowl turns into a smirk. A sexy smirk, but a smirk, nonetheless. “You saying he wasn’t hitting on you, wasn’t asking you out?”
I start to argue until I realize Max was pretty flirty. But the last thing I want is to justify Salvatore’s outrageous behavior. My problem is, I wait too long to respond. “No.”
He quirks a brow. “He wasn’t inappropriate,” I insist. “He just didn’t realize I’m in a relationship.”
He closes the distance between us. “He knows now.”
I duck out from under his arm when he tries to kiss me. “You can’t do that,” I insist, pressing my hands into his chest when he closes in. “I’m serious. Some women may like this possessiveness, but I don’t. It worries me.”
“I would never hurt you,” he answers, as if offended.
“If I believed you would, I wouldn’t be standing here. But the way you acted isn’t okay, nor does it set a good example for Gianno and Apollo.”