Page 122 of Salvatore

Liv eyes my trembling fingers, her lips flattening into a straight line as Remy passes the jug.

“Would you like to say grace, Olivia?” Salvatore asks.

Her anger bleeds into apprehension. “Grace? Me? I don’t?—”

“He’s fucking with you,” Remy mutters. “I’m pretty sure him and God gave up on each other long ago.”

“Not true.” Salvatore claims a crystal decanter of red wine and fills the delicate glass goblet in front of me. “We never had a relationship to begin with.”

I ignore the alcohol and keep myself distracted with the water jug—pouring, drinking, pouring again.

Everyone eats in uncomfortable silence, the ambience full of regret and clinking cutlery against expensive porcelain.

“I know Ivy is going to hate me for this,” Liv says around a dainty bite of rice. “But I think we should probably discuss the so-called hospitality that I walked in on this afternoon, and how it’s hazardous for her health.”

I shoot her a shut-the-fuck-up look, however her sights are squarely focused on Salvatore who pauses mid-sawing motion into his chicken and glowers at his brother.

“Don’t look at me,” Remy mutters around a mouthful. “You’re the one who told Catarina to dose Ollie’s drinks.”

“I didn’t realize she was a chatty drunk,” Salvatore snarls.

“Not chatty, per se,” Liv corrects. “It’s best described as a decrease in self-preservation.”

I take another necessary sip of water. “I think silence is a better option.”

“No, seriously.” Liv jabs a fork in Salvatore’s direction. “You can’t deny that fooling around together is problematic for her.”

Salvatore returns his attention to his meal and continues cutting into his chicken. “I suggest you quit talking about things that aren’t your business.”

“Her best friendisher business,” Remy grates.

Salvatore smiles, the curve of lips far from friendly. “Inviting you both here was a generosity. Don’t make me have to send you home.”

I clear my throat. “Can we please talk about something else?”

“We’re here for Ivy’s benefit.” Remy continues to shoot daggers at his brother. “Does she even know you’re the reason her uncle and cousin went missing?”

My heart sputters. Stops.

Liv lowers her attention to her food and murmurs, “I think it’s pretty clear they’re not actually missing.”

I’d already assumed as much when I heard the news months ago. The underworld isn’t something you take a vacay from. If you go missing, it tends to be a permanent arrangement. But Salvatore? He’s the reason behind my Uncle Javier and Miguel’s disappearance?

I wait patiently for him to deny it.

All he does is sit in silence, chin high, nostrils flared, rage locked and loaded.

My stomach fills with jittery flutters. Not butterflies this time. More like raging moths that awaken inescapable nausea.

“Excuse me.” I drag in a stabilizing breath and place my cutlery onto my plate. “I need fresh air.”

26

SALVATORE

She’s said that before,her request for fresh air a precursor to an escape attempt.

For her sake, she’d better not run.

---