Page 34 of Sinister Intentions

She was probably just busy doing whatever she was doing.

She’d told me when we chatted a while ago that she got really laser-focused when working on something specific or if she found something new to obsess over.

The lack of a reply was making me anxious, though. I tapped out another message.

mee: everything good? radio silence is making me nervous over here.

I hit send, took another bite, and stared at my screen.

By now, she must think I was the lunatic and would have second thoughts if meeting me was such a good idea.

I chuckled.

Given I’d followed Vince Salvini into some random restaurant to get the dirt on him, she wouldn’t have been too far off in her assessment.

I started scrolling social media while stuffing my face with the food until I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.

I glanced toward Vince’s table.

Vince and his friend were deep in conversation, their body language relaxed and easy.

They really did seem close. The friend reached out and caressed Vince’s forehead—seemingly smoothing a frown line between his eyes.

They definitely weren’t afraid to flirt with each other or touch each other in public.

They really were giving off couple vibes.

I chuckled again. As if I, with my very limited/non-existent experience in the sex/love department, could really talk about any vibes.

And even if, it was none of my fucking business whatever preferences Vincenzo Salvini had in a partner.

Even if a part of me wanted to believe they were lovers, if only because it would somehow make Salvini a little less…intimidating—which, for some reason, I desperately needed.

Another part of me, the more rational side, knew I was deluding myself—grasping at straws in a misguided attempt to regain some semblance of control.

Because no matter his sexual orientation, Vincenzo Salvini was mean, dangerous, and a threat to my freedom.

Period.

And I couldn’t let my guard down, not even for a second. Not when there was so much at stake.

My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. Iset, finally.

Iset: Sorry, was in the middle of something. All good over here. Just laying low for a bit.

Relief washed over me as I read her message. At least she was okay.

Me: Glad to hear it. Was starting to worry. Let’s meet.

I hit send and took another bite of my rapidly cooling pasta, my appetite suddenly returning. I couldn’t keep getting distracted from Salvini, not when my real problem was this.

There was too much on the line.

I had to focus.

Had to figure out a way out of this mess before it was too late.

I glanced from the corner of my eye as Vince and his friend finally rose from their table and made their way toward the exit. Part of me wanted to follow, to see where they went next, maybe gather some useful intel. But the more rational part knew that would be pushing my luck. I’d already invaded his space enough for one day.

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