Page 81 of Becoming His Pet

Chapter Twenty-Five

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“I’m not sure about this,” Nora said, climbing out the car. Greg held his hand out for her and she grabbed onto it, needing his touch to calm her nerves.

“I’m here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and shut her door.

“It makes no sense that you’d agree to this.” She shook her head. Getting an invitation to meet with Victor Santinelli didn’t exactly give her a warm sense of security. Why would the head of the family want to speak with her, and insist that Greg bring her, if he wasn’t looking to hurt them?

Greg squeezed her hand. “There’s a lot about what I do that hasn’t made any sense since I met you.”

She felt the heat spread up her neck but turned away. He’d been so gentle with her since he had rescued her from Bernie. All sweet words and loving embraces. Which were comforting and amazing, but she missed his overbearing dominance. She missed his eyebrows rising when he didn’t like her tone. Now all she got was a small shake of his head.

“If Victor wanted us dead, he wouldn’t have asked us to meet him. He would have just had us killed.” Greg pulled her closer to him when they reached the entrance to the restaurant. She had no stomach for eating.

“You’re right.” She took a deep breath.

“I’m almost always right, trouble. If you’d just remember that we’d have less issues.” He winked at her and pulled the door open for her. She rolled her eyes and walked past him, careful of his wounded foot. He refused to use the armband for his injured arm or the boot the doctor gave him for his foot. He swore his own damn boot was protection enough.

The restaurant was empty. Nora’s stomach twisted.

“It’s okay,” Greg whispered in her ear from behind her. “They aren’t open to the public yet.”

“Oh.” She breathed a little easier. Then he hadn’t cleared the place in order to have privacy for their murder.

“Greg. Elenora.” Victor Santinelli, a man old enough to be Nora’s grandfather stood up from a table in the rear of the dining room. His arms outstretched, beckoning them further.

Nora looked to her left and right, trying to find his men. A man like Victor Santinelli wouldn’t just sit alone in a room; anyone could walk in and take him out.

“I have men in the kitchens, and in the next room, Elenora,” Victor said with a grin. “Smart girl to survey your surroundings. But you should do so with more subtlety.” He shook a finger at her. If he hadn’t been smiling when he spoke she would have thought she’d insulted him.

“Mr. Santinelli.” Greg shook his hand, then placed his own on Nora’s back, urging her forward a step.

“Hello.” She managed to keep her tone even, though her fear and her anger still mixed together inside her, tumbling together.

“Elenora.” Victor gripped her hands between both of his and stared down at her. If she trusted what she saw, she’d think he had remorse in his features, but he was a practiced liar and criminal. She wouldn’t believe him. Nothing he was going to say to them would be true. She needed to remember that.

“It has been so long since I saw you. Your father, he was a smart man, he kept you from his business. From all of us.” Victor let go of her hand and gestured for them to take a seat at his table.

Greg held out the chair for Nora and she sat directly across from Victor, putting her hands under the table. It hadn’t felt scary for him to touch her. It had almost felt like a grandfatherly touch.

“If I’ve met you before, I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” she said.

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