Page 23 of Salvatore

“Yes. Just give me a second.” She rummages through her purse and pulls out a set of keys as she reaches the top of the concrete steps.

She opens a heavy metal door, revealing a brightly lit foyer with white tile. On the left, wide plank stairs lead up to the next level. To the right, a long hall with several doors on either side extend to the rear of the building.

“Thank you, again,” she offers.

“You on this floor?” She shakes her head. “Then I’m not done with you yet,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen. “I’ll be okay.”

“Yeah. You will. Because I’m going to make sure you make it up to your place.”

She seems ready to argue, but doesn’t, hooking her arm through mine. Maybe it’s the drugs or maybe she knows I’m not ready to leave her.

I keep her steady, allowing her to lead me through the foyer and up the large staircase. There are four floors, but she stops on the second. Good. The only way she was getting up the next few levels in her condition was if I carried her.

Vincent is expecting me back to watch Donnie after he’s done with her. I should head back, but I’m not in a rush. I’m so done with their drama, and tired of the life that I lead. It feels good to be here with someone who’s not a part of any of it.

It’s a dangerous game I’m playing, being connected to the mob like I am, but I need to keep moving my pieces. I’m only hoping I can stay alive long enough to see Apollo and Gianno grown and on their own.

Aedry takes a breath, turning away from the staircase and leading me back to the front of the building. “I’m really thirsty,” she says as we reach her apartment.

“It’s the drugs and the alcohol,” I tell her, watching the careful way she slips the key into the lock and opens the door.

“I suppose.” She waits by the threshold. “Do you want to come in? Maybe have something to drink with me?”

“Yeah. I do,” I respond, my voice dropping an octave.

She doesn’t notice the shift in my tone, offering me a small smile before stepping inside.

The first thing I notice is a framed picture of her on the wall, hugging what appears to be a yellow Labrador with fur that’s almost white. Shit. Aedry can’t be more than fifteen in the picture. Despite the thick glasses and crooked teeth, she looks the same?younger, yeah, but pretty like she is now, smiling wide as she hugs the animal against her.

“Was this your dog?”

“Yes,” she answers quietly, placing her keys and purse on the table beneath the photo. “Moonlight.”

“What?”

“That was my puppy’s name, Moonlight.” Her voice fades like she’s remembering. “She was my best friend for fifteen years, but we had to put her down the summer before I left for college. Worst day of my life.”

I don’t tell her if that’s her worst day, she’s had a good life. Especially since it’s obvious the memory still causes her pain. “Did you get another dog?” I ask.

“No. But I’ve wanted to for the last few years. I’d love another lab, because I adore the breed, but I wouldn’t want a yellow one since I don’t want to feel like I’m replacing Moonlight.” She shrugs. “It’s just never been the right time.”

She walks ahead. Her place is small, but modern and clean. There’s a kitchen to my right and a bathroom with a claw foot tub directly across from it. The tiny living room extends past the kitchen, yet nothing keeps my focus like her bedroom further back.

A large shelving unit that makes up her closet is perched against the wall just behind her headboard. Shoes neatly stacked in vertical shelves make up each side while a rack filled with clothes runs along the center. A sheer curtain separates her room from the living area. Without it, the entire apartment would basically be one large room.

I wonder briefly how many men she’s invited to her bed. I stop wondering when I realize how much the thought pisses me off.

“Would you like some water?” she asks. She’s bent over, searching through her refrigerator, her tiny dress riding up her smooth legs and barely keeping her ass covered. “If not, I have some wine or root beer, if you prefer.”

Her voice cuts off as she turns around, my slowly lifting gaze demonstrating that my mind hadn’t been on anything but her.

“Water’s fine,” I tell her, sensing her sudden unease.

Maybe another guy would be put off or possibly turned on by her fear. I’m not. I’ve seen the terror in a woman’s eyes inflicted by the cruelty of a man. As much as I’m coming to grips with how bad I want her, I’d never intentionally scare her.

I edge away. “Water is good,” I repeat. “Where would you like me to sit?”

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