Page 37 of The Don

“To-today?”

“Yes.”

“And then you came back to me?”

“Always.”

My mother always said you never really know yourself until you end up at a crossroads in life. I’d thought after years of unhappiness and boredom with Steve that I was a coward. How else to explain wasting so much of my time? And maybe that was actually who I was then, but not anymore. I’ve spent just a few days with Salvatore, and each one has been a crossroads, and each time, I have chosen him.

The day we met, I discovered that I was a woman who would cheat without barely a second thought. I would throw years away for a bit of time with Salvatore, and I wouldn’t regret it. I would spend months wanting to do it again.

I would abandon rescuing my cousin to stay by his side. I would let him whisk me away from everyone I know and love. And while Salvatore is holding me, admitting to murder — certainly not his first — I would accept it. And I would remember that after he committed that murder, he came home, fed me, and made me scream his name until my throat was sore. Because I accept him for who he is. This is the man I love, flaws and all.

Also, I would feel a small, messy, terrible bit of triumph because now, he’s all mine. This is who I am, flaws and all.

“Okay,” I breathe, rubbing my cheek into his soft hair, glancing at the rest of my pasta, which I hope I get to eat.

Salvatore pulls away and looks at me. “That is all you have to say? Okay?”

I shrug. “I was wondering what we were going to do about your wife, and now…” I shrug again. “So, what’s next? Oh, is that why you need to go out tonight?”

His eyes are full of shock. “Yes. I think I know how to finish this.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

He moves his hands under the hem of my shirt. One palm covers my stomach; the other rests in the middle of my back. His touch makes me shiver.

“The easiest way to finish this is to force the issue. I need to meet whatever is coming head-on.”

“Oh. That’s smart.”

He laughs softly. “I’m glad you approve because if you come tonight, you will be a part of this.”

“How?”

Salvatore sighs. “I married my wife because her father used to be a very powerful man. He’s been dead for many years, but there are many people who are still very loyal to her because of him.”

“Oh!” I gasp. “I’m guessing those same people would definitely hate it if you disrespected your wife by showing up with your new younger, prettier BlackandAmerican lover.”

He nods. “I need one of her allies in particular to come out in the open. But I can do this without you. There are many reasons for people to hate me, especially anyone loyal to her.”

“I believe that,” I say with a smile that tugs one from him in return. “But if you want to press the issue…” I lift my eyebrows to check in with him.

“I do.”

“Then I give you permission to use me.”

He growls and takes my mouth. I never eat the rest of my dinner, but Salvatore promises to make it for me again when this is all over. And I plan to hold him to that.

* * *

“I don’t know about this.” I’ve been staring at my reflection in the mirror while Salvatore helps me dress without an ounce of urgency in his movements. His fingers dig into my waist, brush my nipples, and tease the hair at the nape of my neck, none of which is necessary to help me wiggle into the tight black dress that appeared out of nowhere before we’d even finished cleaning up the kitchen.

“I do,” Salvatore says, taking his sweet time zipping me into this dress, the pads of his fingers smoothing the way of the metal clasp.

“This dress is…” I want to say ‘a lot,’ but it’s actually very little.

While I was worried about whether or not I had something fancy enough to wear out — I did not — Salvatore was apparently sending his armed and terrifying bodyguards out to buy the shortest, tightest dress they could find.

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