Page 9 of Salvatore

“College?” I repeat, not sure if she’s messing with me. It’s something I’ve wanted for them, and been setting money aside for, but also something I’m not sure either could manage.

She smiles again, but this grin doesn’t quite show her teeth. “He has a lot of potential,” she says. “Just like Apollo.”

Her smile fades when I lock my gaze on her. I’ve been keeping things easy and professional with her. But the way her eyes shimmer, it’s damn hard. The caveman in me wants to have a taste of those lips and a lot more. Except the man who has two brothers to pound into shape doesn’t allow me to get close.

Before I can release her from my gaze, she turns away. Maybe she’s not interested. Or maybe she knows better than to get close to a man like me.

“Gianno has been on track with regards to attendance and completion of projects,” she says, her voice regaining that quiver. “However, he’s been in a few fights outside of school grounds that we were made aware of, and there was that incident with him masturbating on the baseball field at Roosevelt Park.”

She stops talking when I crack up, her expression stunned. “This isn’t a laughing matter, I assure you.”

“He wasn’t jerking off,” I tell her. “He was fucking a girl in the dugout. When the cops showed, he didn’t want her to get in trouble. He stepped out to distract them so she could get away, but didn’t finish pulling up his pants in time.” I shrug. “He saved that girl a lot of embarrassment. You ask me, it was a pretty classy move.”

“He was having sex with a girl?”

For a moment I just look at her, unsure why that’s the one thing she fixated on. “That’s right,” I answer.

“He was only fifteen at the time,” she says.

I motion to the file with a jerk of my chin. “You know what they’ve been through and what they saw. They grew up faster than I wanted them to, but it wasn’t by choice. Do I like that he was fucking a girl at fifteen? No. He could have waited another two years.”

“Seventeen is hardly old enough to start a sexual relationship.”

“Men start a lot younger,” I remind her. “And I never said anything about a relationship.”

Her full lips open slightly. I picked up on a light Southern accent when she introduced herself. But even if I hadn’t, it’s clear she didn’t grow up in the Tri-state area and all its in-your-face brutal honesty. I also pick up on the fact that she thinks seventeen is too young to have sex.

Even though I shouldn’t, I can’t help wondering how old she was her first time, and whether she enjoyed it. Probably not. The first-time sucks for women, and probably so does their second and third times, which is one of many reasons I only take experienced women to bed.

“They’re not men yet,” she insists, pulling me back to the moment. “They’re boys . . . children really.”

“If you think my brothers are the only kids out there having sex at fifteen, you’re wrong.”

“I’m well aware that teens have sex,” she says quietly. “That doesn’t mean I approve, or that it should be so easily dismissed as the norm. Rules at this age are important, as are morals that first begin at home.”

“Are you saying I don’t have morals, and that maybe they don’t, either?”

My tone is sharp with each word, but she’s not backing down, keeping her voice soft yet absolute. “I’m saying they need guidance to keep them safe in all aspects of their lives.”

I cock my head, knowing she means what she says. But, so do I. “My brothers have seen and done things they shouldn’t have. And I haven’t always been around to protect them.” My voice gathers that edge it always gets before I explode. “That doesn’t mean I’m not there for them, or that I wouldn’t die saving them. No matter who tries to hurt them.”

---