When it’s my turn, I’m forced to tear my gaze from Rosana and order some treats for her. Instead of ordering just one cupcake, I order four, then I order a variety of half a dozen cookies, and four cannoli. Then I order two sparkling waters and head back to the table.
I expect to find Rosana sitting alone, except as I approach I realize that there is a man sitting with her. Rosana’s spine is straight and the way she’s holding her body, I know without a doubt that she is uncomfortable.
As I approach, I take a good look at the guy. He’s young, dark-haired, thin, darker-toned skin, and I have a feeling he very well could be the baby daddy. Fuck. I wasn’t expecting this confrontation so soon.
Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it until Gavino had him strung up so that I could torture and murder him, but here we are.
“Bambola,” I call out.
Her entire body jumps and she turns slightly to look over at me. Setting the drinks and bags down on the table between her and the stranger, I stand next to her and look down my nose at the fuck.
He tilts his head, looking up at me and grins. He’s a goddamn punk and I wonder if this is what she likes. Does she want a punk like him? If she does, she’s not going to like me much or at fucking all.
“Who the fuck is this?” he sneers as he stays in his place.
“Miguel, please don’t make a scene,” Rosana pleads.
His gaze flicks from mine, then narrows on hers. “Excuse the fuck outta me, what the fuck are you telling me right now?” he snaps.
“Rosana doesn’t have to tell you shit. I’m telling you that you better watch what the fuck you say to my wife,” I growl.
“Oh god,” Rosana groans.
“Your what?” he hisses.
I can tell by the look on his face that he’s shocked. He’s so shocked in fact that he doesn’t know how to even react. He just stares up at me wide eyed and his mouth moves open and closed like a fish out of water.
My lips curve up into a grin. “My wife,” I say, keeping my tone calm and even.
He slowly stands and attempts to post up in front of me. Tipping my chin down, I smirk as I look down at him. He’s at least six inches shorter than me and probably thirty pounds lighter. I could take him with one fucking hand.
He’s a kid.
A goddamn kid.
Though being a kid doesn’t necessarily make him any less dangerous.
Looking over at Rosana, the way she is looking up at me, fear laced in her features, I realize that she’s just as much a kid too and guilt should swim throughout my entire body. I’ve stolen her. Not from him, but I’ve stolen her from a life of her choosing.
Guilt should eat at me, but it doesn’t. She’s mine. I’m keeping her and this punk ass can get fucked.
Chapter Seven
SALVATORE
The fuck tries to post up to me, but I take one step toward him, my shoulders square, my gaze focused and intent, and I silently dare him to try me. He doesn’t. A cooler head prevails, and he takes a step backward. His gaze flicks down to Rosana, then back to me.
“You can have the whore. Fucks like a dead fish, anyway. My hand satisfies me better.”
I’ll kill him for that comment alone.
He walks away, but I don’t make a move to sit down. Instead, I watch him. I watch him until he slips into the passenger seat of a blacked-out Beemer. He throws me a sign, his two fingers crossed as he passes by.
“Salvatore,” Rosana whispers.
Turning to her, I look down at her. She’s got tears in her eyes, but they aren’t falling down her cheeks. They’re about to though. Walking over to my chair, the one that punk just vacated, I sink down across from her and start to take the pastries out of the bag.
“Talk to me,” she pleads.
Looking across the table at her, I give her a small smile. “Don’t cry, bambola. Don’t give that to him, he does not deserve your tears.”
“I’m not going to cry because of him,” she whispers.
Arching my brow, I sit back and wait for her to explain herself. “I’m going to cry because you had to see him. You had to stand there and see him sitting across from me. My mistake right there rubbed in your nose.”
My lips curve up into a grin at her words. She’s beautiful, not only inside, but out as well. The fact that she is even thinking of me proves that marrying her yesterday was the right choice. This also proves to me that her affections for him did not run as deeply as I imagined they did, also very fucking good for me since I aim to be inside of her as soon as humanly possible.
“Seeing him only bothered me for you, not for myself,” I admit as I open the cupcake, the cannoli, and then the cookie boxes.
Rosana’s eyes widen as she takes in the treats, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “Did you seriously buy all of this for us to eat, the two of us?” she asks on a gasp.
Chuckling, I shrug a shoulder. “We can take home whatever you don’t eat right here. I have a feeling you may need some sweet treats after dinner tonight, anyway.”
“Dinner,” she groans. Then she shakes her head and focuses back on Miguel’s sudden appearance. “I don’t know how he found me here,” she admits.
“Your office isn’t far from here, right?”
She looks around as if realizing for the first time where she is. I don’t think she realized that I’d taken us this far into the city.
Breakfast was on the outskirts, then we’ve just been shopping and going to all of the stores she wanted to go to. I don’t think she was thinking about how close to her office she was, just that she was going to her favorite shops.
“Shit,” Rosana hisses.
Chuckling, I shrug. “I’m not worried. He won’t do anything and it’s better he knows, anyway. He was going to find out sooner or later.”
“What happens now?” she asks.
She leans forward as she takes a chocolate cupcake covered in light blue buttercream frosting. I watch as she starts to eat it, licking the frosting off of the top and it makes my cock twitch. Cupcakes were a bad choice… ice cream would have been worse.
“Nothing,” I state.
Her eyes widen. “Nothing?”
Shaking my head once, I grin at her. “Nothing for you to worry about, how about that?”
She watches me, frowning slightly as she continues to eat her cupcake. Fuck me, but cupcakes were a bad goddamn choice. Clearing my throat, I reach for a chocolate chip cookie, I need something to occupy my hands and mouth with, desperately.
“Will you tell me, when whatever you do is done?” she asks, her voice soft and sweet.
So sweet that it almost pains me to think that she’s talking about doing, as in the death of her baby daddy. He will die though, there is no doubt about that.
There is no way that he can live.
I won’t let him. The comment about fucking her, that was plain disrespect, not only to her but to me as well. He knew what he was saying when he said it and he’ll pay for it. I’ll enjoy making him, too. It will be my absolute pleasure.
“I’m ready to go home,” Rosana whispers after she’s finished her cupcake.
Shaking my head, I clear my throat. “We will not,” I snap.
Her eyes lift, widening at my words and tone, mostly my tone, I am sure. She presses her lips together and rolls them a few times before she releases them. Clearing her throat, she leans back slightly, her gaze never leaving mine.
“Salvi,” she calls out. I arch a brow, waiting to see what she has to say. “He was here. He saw you and he knows that we’re married. It’s put a damper on the day.”
I snort. “The fact that you let that piece of shit put a damper on anything is beyond fucking me,” I growl.
Fuck him.
Fuck. Him.
That motherfucker can fuck himself. My lips curve up into a grin. I think he’ll do that too—fuck himself. Or maybe I’ll fuck him with something before I kill him. Either way, he’s going to be fucked and I’m going to smile as it happen
s.
“Where else do you want to go?” I ask.
She blinks, probably fearing me slightly. She probably should, if she knew the depraved thoughts going through my head right now, she no doubt would be terrified.
Rosana doesn’t answer me right away, so I shake my head of the thoughts of killing and torturing Miguel and clear my throat, trying to get her attention.
“Rosana?” I murmur.
She licks her lips, then shakes her head a few times. “Home, Salvi. I’d like to go home,” she whispers.
“Bambola,” I rasp. “You cannot let him win.”
She looks down at the table, then lifts her gaze to meet mine. “He hasn’t, Salvatore. I promise that he hasn’t.”
“But you want to go home?”
She nods her head once. “I do. It’s not because he’s upset me. Actually, seeing him again made me realize just how little I feel for him. I felt absolutely nothing when I looked at him, Salvi.”
I try not to smile at her words, but I fail. I like the fact that she has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t have feelings for him. I don’t want her to have any. I want her to only have them for me, at least eventually.
Hopefully.
Sooner rather than later, preferably.
ROSANA
Pressing my hand against my stomach, I turn to the side and try to see if there’s a difference in my body yet. I don’t see it, but I know that it has to be coming soon. I need to make a doctor’s appointment and figure out what I’m going to do about work.
I can’t go back to my office, not with Miguel there, that much is clear. I haven’t talked to Salvatore about it either though. I enjoyed my work in finance and I’ll be disappointed to not have that to do any longer, then again, I think that a little someone will keep me busy enough that maybe I won’t miss it too much.
“You ready?” Salvatore’s voice calls out.
Flicking my gaze to my reflection in the mirror, I take in my outfit. I’m wearing a white lace overlay tight dress with a cotton lining. It’s sleeveless and hugs my body down to just above my knees.
I decided to pair the dress with the Jimmy Choos with the feather tassels that I wore for dinner last night. Still absolutely amazing and gorgeous in every way.
My hair is down and I spent the time putting beach waves in it. My makeup is light, including the nude matte lipstick that I applied right before I started the staring contest with myself in the full-length mirror.
“No,” I admit on a whisper before I turn around to face him.
He looks absolutely gorgeous. Salvatore is wearing a deep navy suit, again. His pants and jacket are tailored to fit his muscular frame perfectly. His deep brown leather shoes don’t have a single scratch on them, they are stunning.
He has a large watch on his wrist and his shirt is a soft mint color that complements the navy suit and the navy tie that is around his neck. His hair is combed back and not a single hair is out of place.
“Come on, bambola. It’s time to face the music.”
“And the million questions, that’s what I’m not ready for. Admitting that I’ve screwed up is not my favorite thing to do, especially when Pippa is involved.”
Salvatore’s lips curve up into a grin. “Yeah, Massimo will probably be pissed at me too, but he can’t really say shit about it.” He chuckles with a shrug.
“He can’t?” I ask.
He chuckles again. “Yeah, I’m a little higher on the food chain than he is. So he can be pissed, but that’s about it.”
Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I try to hide my smile but fail. I don’t know why I like the fact that my husband is powerful in the famiglia.
I never wanted a Made Man, I avoided them like the plague and even stayed away from family things with Pippa just so I wouldn’t fall for any of them. If I don’t know them, I can’t find them attractive.
It all did me little good because here I am married to one.
I can’t deny that it’s hot though, Salvatore having a high place in the famiglia. It really is just that—hot.
“Let’s go,” I mutter, knowing that if I stay here and think about how hot he is, in so many different ways, that I’ll make a fool of myself and throw myself at him.
“Okay, Rosana.”
He holds out his hand and I close the distance between us, making my way toward him before I slip my palm into his. His hand wraps around mine and he squeezes gently.
I have no doubt that he’s only holding my hand for support, just like he did earlier today, but it doesn’t stop my entire body from swooning and almost melting at the touch.
Salvatore doesn’t release my hand either, not in the elevator, not in the car, and then not as we walk through the restaurant.
We have a private room in the back, a space where we can talk freely without the entire restaurant hearing about the fact that I’m knocked up by one man, married to another, and practically have a hit out on me by the baby daddy.
Standing on the other side of the door, just a few feet away from my sister and Massimo, a few feet and just minutes away from having to tell her what I’ve done. I feel as if I’ve done it too.
Sure, Miguel was the one who was plotting the whole thing out, but I allowed a man like that into my life and inside of my body. All because he was cocky and cute. Fuck. I’m such an asshole.
Salvatore turns to me, his hand on the door handle. Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out as I turn to look up at him. He smiles down at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and I melt just a little bit more. I don’t know how I could, I’m already a pile of goo for this man.
“Are you ready, bambola?” he asks softly.
“Not really, Salvi.”
He smiles at my nickname, then leans down and touches his lips to my forehead before he stands straight and gives me a wink.
“All will be okay, you’ll see.”
He doesn’t allow me to say anything else, he pushes the door in and together, hand in hand, we walk into the room.
Chapter Eight
ROSANA
I can’t help but watch Pippa’s shock as she watches Salvatore and I walk through the door holding hands. Massimo doesn’t look as shocked as he looks straight up pissed off. He sits back in his seat, his eyes narrowed as he takes in our approach.
“Pippa,” I say, my voice wavering with the word.
She narrows her eyes, then dips her chin toward the chair, not saying a word. She’s mad, he’s confused, and if I had to guess, she’s hurt that there is something happening between me and Salvatore and she knows absolutely nothing about it.
Salvatore helps me into my chair, pushing it in behind me before he takes the seat next to mine. A waiter appears immediately to take our drink orders and while I order sparkling water, Massimo and Pippa order a hard alcoholic drink and Salvatore orders a glass of red wine.
Once the waiter has disappeared and the door closes behind him, both Pippa and Massimo lean forward. Here it is. This is when the interrogation is about to begin. I already know it’s coming, so before they can even say a word, I hold up my palm.
“I will answer all your questions as truthfully as I possibly can. But please, don’t be angry with Salvatore at all. This, everything that I tell you, it is all on me and nobody else.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Massimo growls.
Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath before I let it out and then open my eyes and connect to Pippa’s and then tear my gaze away. I can’t look at my sister, not while I tell this story. Not while I admit that I’m an idiot. Massimo probably already thinks that I am one, so the blow won’t be as bad when he discovers that he’s right.
I begin the story, leaving out all the really juicy stuff, because even if I would tell Pippa, I would never tell Massimo about my sex life. When I’m finished, I wait for their response. I don’t know what I expect, but what I don’t expect is silence.
Massimo shifts his gaze from mine to Salvatore, and his brows snap tog
ether. “You married her, to protect her from this guy?” he asks.
Salvatore nods his head. “She needed protecting, it was time for me to find a wife.”
“This is not what I wanted for you, Rosana,” Pippa whispers.
Guilt.
It’s ugly and consuming and I feel it do just that, consume me, when Pippa looks into my eyes. Licking my lips, I look down at my lap. Twisting my fingers, I wonder if this is right. I wonder if I didn’t just rush into this because it seemed like the best option. The only option, really. But was it?
“It’s what’s happened,” I say.
I feel defensive of my choices, mainly because they’ve already been made and there is absolutely no going back now. This man is my choice. This baby is my choice. And no matter what, these are the choices I’ve made that I have to live with for the rest of my life.
“I realize that, but it’s not what I wanted for you. I let you stay away, I let you avoid family because you didn’t want to be part of the famiglia and here you are,” she says, pointing out every thought I’ve had since running to Salvi.
I open my mouth to respond, but it’s Salvatore who speaks first. “Life isn’t always exactly what we want it to be, it doesn’t always go as planned. Rosana came to me and we have an understanding. This child will have a mother and father who love it. What it will have is a chance to live, something that wouldn’t have happened had Rosana not figured out what was going on and come to me.”
Massimo snorts. “She wouldn’t have had to figure out shit if she would have looked into the fucker before she let him stick his dick in her,” he grinds out.
“Out of line, Massimo. Rosana is my wife,” Salvatore growls.
Massimo shakes his head as if he just can’t believe me, and he probably can’t. But I don’t need him of all people to preach to me about anything. He’s no innocent choirboy himself. He can go fuck himself if he thinks that he’s going to make me feel worse than I already feel.
Becoming her Salvation (Zanetti Famiglia Book 7) Page 6
