Page 22 of Wrapped in Silver

“What in the actual fuck?”I whisper, still out of breath, shoving the back of my head against the pillow to ground me.

He leans back casually on my dresser and shuts the window.

“How did you—”

“The roof.” He smirks. “If your guardians gave half a shit, they wouldn’t let a rookie sleep in his car while the ‘cartel’is at large.”

“Why?”I say, still whispering, hand to my heart.

“I’ve been asking myself that for days now.” He peers out the window, his perfect jaw and silver hair shining in the moonlight. He looks even hotter like this—in all black withgloves. Like a Dexter kill suit. Ugh, my rattled brain goes to the worst places when I’m exhausted.

“They refused to listen to you, didn’t they?” he says, drawing me back to reality.

My brow furrows.How the hell would he know that?

“You see, the bratva seemed quite unbothered about interference. One might even say, they were lackadaisical about one of the highest profile captures in modern day crime.”

“Aros.” I sit up in my bed, embarrassed that I probably stink of sweat from my nightmares.

He locks his gaze with mine again, and it feels like we’re the only two people who exist in the world. The confidence to literally be sitting in my room when Jersey PD is right outside…

“Can I trust you, Quinn?”

I sniff, not sure what he expects of me.

“It’s in your best interest to say yes,” he speaks casually.

Does he have sympathy for me? I caught that glimmer in his eye more than once in his house. He’s not just a grumpy nobody like he claims.

“You’re important, aren’t you?” I swallow hard. “Not a businessman like I pegged you for with those expensive ass loafers in the snow.” I look him up and down, seeing a mafia hitman sitting before me.

“You only know the sides that I show you,” he says cryptically, and for some reason, I’m all the more intrigued.

Does that mean he meant for me to see him walking with his groceries at six in the morning the day of my father’s kidnapping? Did he mean for me to follow him?

Does he… pity me?

He sighs. “You aren’t safe here, Quinn.”

“And why’s that?” My heart flutters. “Because for some reason… I feel safe.”

His eyes narrow for a second. “Should I take that as a signal of trust?”

“Maybe.” I shrug coyly, then notice a speck of dried blood shining off his jacket from the moonlight.

His eyes follow mine. “Don’t worry. I didn’t harm anyone tonight.”

“You’re a sloppy mobster,” I dare to say. “If that blood falls, I can have it tested.”

He smirks. “As I said, you only know the sides I show you.”

“Youmeantto leave blood on your jacket? Oh-kay. Serial killer vibes.” I pretend to shiver.

“Fearless youth. Not sure if out of pure stupidity, or—”

Iwhackhis leg with a pillow.

“So whose blood is it then, if it’ssupposedto be there? Huh?” No idea why I’m giddy, but I am. Probably because I’ve been thinking about this stud to counteract all of my miserable thoughts for the past few days.

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