Page 32 of Sinister Intentions

Beg me to let her go.

CHAPTER TEN

My eyes were fixed on Salvini and his friend across the restaurant. I’d chosen my seat wisely at the end of the bar, a lush, gigantic plant covering the direct line of sight between their table and my seat but not enough for me to not be able to catch glimpses of them.

They were laughing and joking around, so relaxed and at ease with each other, it was hard to reconcile this lighter side of Salvini with the cold, ruthless bully who had towered over me and tried to intimidate me.

Salvini’s friend was freaking gorgeous, but as much as I hated to admit it, Salvini was truly breathtaking—the body, the chiseled jawline, those piercing eyes, the confidence in every movement. And I wasn’t the only one in the restaurant who was checking the two men out—that’s how magnificent they looked.

I cast another glance. Even that stupid smirk of his was weirdly attractive in a rough, bad-boy kind of way.

Get it together, girl. This was Vincenzo freaking Salvini, remember? The guy was a total asshole.

On top of that, demanding my marriage to Matt in reparation for my uncle’s murder attempt of his brother.

What type of maniac did something like that?

Still, I couldn’t look away. There was something incredibly and uncomfortably fascinating about their interaction. They seemed like old friends, finishing each other’s sentences, leaning in close as they chatted. But at the same time, there was something more. They seemingly switched from talking to flirting and back. The image of Vince shaking his ass flashed through my inner eye for a split second. What if they really were lovers?

I shook my head, chastising myself.Don’t jump to conclusions.But, also, as comfortable and open as Salvini seemed, if his family was anything like mine, his father would probably ban him if he was in a relationship with a man, right?

And wouldn’t that be my way out? Sure enough, threatening his reputation would force him to at least back down, right?

My linguine arrived, but I barely noticed the waiter setting it down in front of me. “Thank you,” I murmured when I handed over my menu.

Suddenly, Vince rose from the booth, his tall frame unfolding with an easy grace.

Oh shit, he was heading this way! Did he discover me? Was he coming over because of me?

I quickly pulled back the menu, and the waiter stared at me as if I was borderline nuts.

“Sorry, I’ll need that a little longer,” I said, turned, and hid behind the menu, my heart pounding.

Don’t come over here; don’t come over here.

I made myself as small and insignificant as I could and even held my breath while I waited. Seconds stretched into insufferable long minutes while my mind raced to come up with some believable reason why I was here.

Meeting a friend? A sudden insatiable bout of craving for Italian food?

But the dreaded moment never came.

He strolled right past me without slowing down or hesitating.

Uff. After a few tense moments, I dared a glance over the top of the menu, right when he disappeared out of my line of sight and toward the restrooms.

Did he see me? Probably not. Because he wouldn’t just have ignored me. The opposite really.

A wave of relief washed over me, quickly replaced by nerves. What had I been thinking following him here? If he caught me…I didn’t even want to imagine.

Well, gauging based on our past confrontations, he probably wouldn’t leave it at a snide remark accompanied by a dismissive glance.

I froze as Vince came back a moment later, his tall frame moving with a fluid grace that was impossible to ignore. I stared down at my plate while panic gripped me—did he spot me?

My heart pounded in my ears as he started heading my way. I quickly shoved the bite on my fork into my mouth while at the same time tried to make myself as small as possible without attracting attention.

Don’t come over here; don’t come over here.

The seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly as I waited for the dreaded confrontation—with my mouth full of food because there was no way I could move my jaw.

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