Page 36 of The Don

He squeezes my leg again. “I do.”

I use more food to hide my smile while Salvatore sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.

“Do you need to rest?”

That question stops the fork halfway to my open mouth. “Why?” I ask, my sex already clenching. “What did you…have in mind?”

Those crinkles deepen into creases that soon enough will be there permanently, and I want that. I want to make sure his laugh lines are mine. “Not that for once.”

I bite back a frown. “Oh.”

“I have to go out for…business,” he says carefully. “I thought you might be tired. You can stay here and rest tonight. There’s a spa in this building and—”

“No, thanks. I’ll come with you,” I say, turning back to my pasta. I grab a hunk of bread I would seriously consider dating if I weren’t all in on this be-with-my-baby-daddy plan. I dip it into the sauce and close my eyes while I bite. “Amazing,” I mumble with a full mouth.

Salvatore’s voice is soft. I hear him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “It could be…dangerous.”

“Probably,” I agree, snagging a piece of octopus, coating it in the sauce, and smearing it onto the last of the bread in my other hand before shoving the whole thing into my mouth.

“I want you to be safe.”

I nod and chew. “Me too,” I mumble behind my hand. “I definitely didn’t come here to get shot or anything.”

His hand is back on my thigh. “I don’t know what might happen tonight, bella. You would be safer here.”

I imagine lots of things could happen.Anythingcould happen when the father of your child is apparently in the mafia, so I guess he’ll just have to keep his promise to me and be my army. Sounds legit to me. But my mouth is too full to state the obvious, so I just keep nodding at him.

Salvatore shifts closer. He takes a slow, loud, deep breath in. He presses his forehead to my shoulder and exhales as his arms wrap around my waist. He sounds so goddamn weary that it breaks my heart. I swallow the food in my mouth and tilt my head to rest on top of his. His hair smells like sea salt. It’s my turn to take a slow, deep breath.

“What do you need to do?” I ask softly.

“I think I know who’s trying to kill me.”

“Is that what you were doing when you left this morning?”

“Yes.”

“Who is it?”

“Another member of my…organization.”

“Why?”

He squeezes me again. “My wife set me up.”

My heart freezes at those words. To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about his wife. I don’t know her, so I can’t hate her, but if he’s right, and she’s the reason someone is trying to kill him, I’ll learn how to hate her on my baby’s behalf.

“Why did she—”

“We hated one another. Deeply.”

“Hated?” My heart is racing.

“Bella.”

“Tell me.”

“She’s dead. I killed her.”

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