Page 103 of Fire and Silk
Salvatri straightens when he sees her. His arms fall to his sides. His stance widens just slightly.
She walks forward alone.
I follow three steps behind.
When she reaches him, she slows. Her voice doesn’t carry far.
“What are you doing here, Mico?” she asks.
Her tone is soft. Familiar.
He studies her. His mouth twitches at the edge.
“You look different,” he says. “But good.”
Something stills inside me.
They aren’t touching. But the space between them bends inward, the kind that builds when words aren’t enough and bodies aren’t allowed.
She nods . Her fingers hover near her stomach, then fold away again.
“I thought you were gone,” she says quietly.
His eyes don’t move from her face.
“Not without a proper goodbye.”
The fight’s tucked away somewhere, quiet now, buried.
“I’m heading back to Italy tomorrow,” he says, voice low.
She shifts slightly. Not toward him, but not away either.
He watches her.
“I don’t know what this is now. What you are. What I was.”
He lets the words hang.
“But I’d like a meal before I go.”
Lira’s lips part. She doesn’t answer immediately. Her eyes drop to the space between them, then lift again to his.
She glances toward me—quick, unsure. Her weight shifts to one foot, then back.
Salvatri follows her gaze. His face hardens for half a second before he softens it again.
“You can come too,” he says, turning his head to me.
He smiles, but his voice stays even.
“If it helps.”
The implication is clear. He’s not offering peace. He’s giving her comfort. Something to bridge the gap between where they ended and where she’s standing now.
“You wouldn’t want me alone with your wife,” he adds, quiet.
The threat is quieter, more veiled. But it’s there.
