Page 73 of Remy

“What I want is for you to get the fuck out of here and let me handle my business.”

“My business,” Salvatore corrects. “This is soon to be my organization. My empire.”

“But it isn’t yet.”

Another sickening chuckle taints the air. “You’re right. That’s why this little interlude was sponsored by our uncle. He’s requested your presence at the penthouse.” Salvatore takes a casual retreating step, his eyes meeting mine. “Both of you.”

I stop breathing, each chaotic heartbeat acting like a tightening noose around my neck.

Remy shoots me a glance over his shoulder as if sensing how close I am to running. To passing out.

“Don’t panic,” he mouths again, this time with vehemence.

“He’s requested an introduction.” Salvatore’s grin returns, his gaze playful.

Fear has been my constant companion since early Saturday morning. But with Remy it was different. Wild and rampant. I could think while under the spell of his tyranny.

Not now though.

The fear that consumes me is cold and isolating. The icy tendrils of horror make it impossible to function.

“That isn’t necessary,” Remy grates.

Salvatore smirks at me. “I assure you it is. Right now in fact.”

I shake my head, my throat so dry it throbs.

I’m not meeting anyone. I can’t. I have an important funeral to prepare. Being late isn’t an option. Ivy and Allison would ask a million questions, and my failing brain isn’t capable of giving birth to the insurmountable lies necessary to appease their curiosity.

“I said no.” Remy sidesteps, breaking his brother’s line of vision with mine again. “I’m handling this.”

“And what is this exactly?”

“A minor inconvenience.”

I hold in a squeak.

“Seems like more of a security risk, brother. One that comes in a tempting package.”

“I’m handling it,” Remy snaps.

“Not anymore you’re not. Lorenzo’s orders.”

I keep shaking my head. “I need to get to work. Being late will?—”

“Make her understand.” Salvatore claps his brother on the shoulders. “Articulate the importance of the meeting on your drive to his penthouse.” He turns and starts toward the front door. “I expect you to be no more than five minutes behind me.”

Remy doesn’t voice another protest.

Why? Why doesn’t he scream that we’re not going?

“I look forward to getting to know you better, Olivia.” Salvatore grabs the door handle and yanks it open. “See you both soon.”

He claps the door shut behind him.

Silence rings in my ears.

Remy doesn’t fill the void.

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