Page 8 of Desperately Delicate Viper

No, what I want to do is hunt him down, throw him in my car, and take him back to my place so I can keep him for myself. I want to maim any other man who dares to touch him from here on out, and I want to spoil him until he forgets that he ever needed to rob anyone to survive.

I clench my teeth against the laugh that’s creeping up my throat. I paid for one night with a sex worker and now I want to kidnap him and keep him. I’d wonder if there’s something fucking wrong with me, but given the genetic line, I’m guessing that’s a solid yes.

The sigh that bursts through the speaker startles me, reminding me that I’m standing outside of Uncle Sal’s apartment in the middle of the night.

“No, come on up. Your mother will have my balls if you’re having some kind of fucking crisis at one o’clock in the morning and I send you away. Dante probably will too.” The buzz of the door unlocking follows only seconds later.

I huff out a laugh and wince at the reminder that I probably woke his husband too. I should have thought a little harder before coming over here in the middle of the night, but he’s already awake now, so it’s not like I can turn around and go home. By the time I reach his apartment, he’s waiting for me in the hallway.

Uncle Sal pats me on the shoulder and leads me inside. His dark hair is sticking up in all directions and he’s dressed in a pair of fleece pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. It’s weird to see him in anything other than one of his colorful suits. I follow him into the kitchen where he has a bottle of Scotch out and waiting for us. He lifts the bottle to his lips, gulps down two swigs, then sets it on the counter with a meaningful look in my direction.

“I figure if you’ve gotten yourself into some kind of trouble, then it’s better if I’m a little buzzed when you tell me.”

I chuckle and cross the space, picking up the bottle and taking a gulp of my own before leaning against the counter opposite him.

“I’m not in trouble.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “You just thought it would be a good idea to rouse a man with a gun out of a peaceful slumber in the middle of the night?”

I grimace. “I had a shitty night, and I wasn’t thinking.”

“Ah, so personal trouble instead of professional.” He visibly relaxes, recapping the bottle and shoving it into the cabinet over the refrigerator. “That’s a lot fucking easier to deal with.”

I snort and wrap my hand tighter around Anders’s t-shirt, half in my pocket still. Sal’s eyes drop to where it’s sticking out and he scrunches his forehead but doesn’t outright ask what the hell I’m doing carrying around a white tank top.

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather stop by here to tell you I had to beat down another Fitzpatrick for showing his freckled, ginger ass in our city.”

Sal’s mouth twists into a scowl. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t. An all-out Mafia war is the last goddamn thing we need.”

“Yeah,” I murmur an absent agreement. He’s probably right. That shit is above my pay grade either way. “Honestly, I don’t know why I came by.”

“Why don’t you tell me why your night was so shitty, and I’ll see if I canEncyclopedia Brownthis thing.” He waves in ago-aheadgesture that reminds me of Anders doing the same thing earlier, prompting me to undress while he watched me from the bed. A spike of heat and shame rushes through me.

“It started off pretty damn good.” I cast my gaze down to my feet, trying to decide how much I want to tell my uncle now that I’ve dragged him out of bed. “Met a guy at a club, got a hotel room…”

“Don’t tell me you hurt him.” His tone is so dark that it startles me, and I snap my head back up so I can look at him. The way his fingers twitch, I think he’s actually wishing he had his gun to point at me right now.

A shiver runs through me at the thought of doinganythingto hurt Anders, and I hold up my hands in defense.

“Hell no. Of course I didn’t hurt him.”

He relaxes and blows out a breath.

“Good. I hope you know that your mother would removeyourballs if you had.” He pauses and then chuckles. “And so would Dante.”

No joke, my ma would castrate me slowly if I ever hurt someone like that. There’s a hell of a big difference between hurting people who have knowingly fucked with the Morettis and hurting someone likethat.

“No. Jesus,” I say again. “We had fun and then…” I clear my throat, heat rising in my face. “He robbed me and took off.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sal howls with laughter.

“You got rolled? That’s fucking priceless.”

I bite my tongue and wait for his laughing fit to end. He doubles over and cackles, wiping tears off of his cheeks. Irritation rises in my chest. If it were anyone other than Anders, I can see how the emotion would easily turn into a need for revenge, to soothe my ego and protect my reputation by making sure he could never brag to anyone about tying up and robbing a Moretti. But all I feel is a strange sense of pride for how he pulled it off.

“Right, I think I’m going to go.” I push off the counter, but Sal thrusts a hand out, placing it in the middle of my chest to stop me from leaving.

“I’m sorry, but that’s funny shit. Obviously, you can never tellanyoneelse. You know that, right?”

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