Page 24 of Jig's Last Dance

“Gladly,” I snort.

“Alice?” We both turn to find Sal standing at the end of the hall with a cool expression. Jig eyes him lazily, and I fight the urge to warn Jig off. Don’t bait the fucking man, or you’re dead. Sal Castinetti takes no prisoners.

“Yes?”

“Wipe your face,” he says with a frown, and with trembling fingers, I pull a compact from my purse.

Jig smeared my red lipstick, and now it’s across my face. When I glare at him, Jig merely smirks. Was this a message for Castinetti or me?

“Come,” Sal says, holding out his hand. With a weird pulse in my chest, I grab his hand and follow him down the hall.

When I glance back, Jig is staring at me with a ferocity that makes me shiver. And turning away, I stare at Sal’s hand around mine with a new consideration.

Please tell me he isn’t interested in me that way.

Chapter Four

On Monday morning, I head to school in the back of a fancy town car. I haven’t heard from Ben, and he refused to answer my calls.

When I mentioned going home, Sal insisted I stay until Ben has cooled off, and because I was still dreading the showdown, I agreed. Unfortunately, I was forced to mention my stuff reportedly on the front porch because I had nothing to wear, and Sal wasted no time sending someone to get my things from the house.

Hopefully, Ben wasn’t there because I could just see his face to find Sal’s grunts at his door. Ben has never told me why he hates Sal so much. Maybe it’s as simple as he blames him for our parents’ deaths. All I’ve ever been told is they died in a tragic car accident.

Glum thoughts followed me through the halls of Sal’s mansion, where memories assailed me at every turn. This was where we grew up, running these fancy tiled floors and playing hide and seek in the rooms.

I was never afraid back then, but I wonder if I should be now. My parents are gone. There is no buffer between me and Sal’s world. Will I continue to be his bambina or become a new version of the girl who worshipped him?

Thankfully, he was too busy to speak with me after we returned home, but I know it’s coming, and I dread it. I don’t want to talk about Ben because he may be a jerk but to do so feels like a betrayal.

Hopefully, Ben will come to his senses before too long. Either that or Sal will accommodate me until I’m eighteen and can move on without any further conflict.

Coming all the way down to the school for just one class is a pain, but I’m determined to graduate, so I don’t have much choice. After everything went down, Ben dropped out, and although we’re constantly at odds, I want to do this for him, to show his efforts in caring for me and sacrificing weren’t a waste.

When I roll from the fancy car, though, exiting before the driver can open the door, I’m met with curious stares. Itchy under the scrutiny, I nod to the driver and walk toward the entrance. I can feel the damn curiosity and raise my chin. It’s that or hunch my shoulders which, yeah, is not an option.

I spot Shawn coming toward me with a grim expression and silently sigh. What now?

She steps in beside me as I pass and hands me my purse. “What’s going on, Ali? Where were you all weekend?”

“It’s a long story,” I grumble. Shawn is the only one who knows about my dad’s past, but I’m dreading telling her about my new situation because I know her brothers got caught up in the shit before.

She may be all about the bad boys, but she abhors the life that caused them so much pain. This is why her choice in men is a puzzle to all who know her.

“Later then. I can’t wait to graduate and move out. Declan was all over my ass last night,” she grumbles, flipping her dark hair.

“That’s rough,” I murmur, uneasy about keeping stuff from her.

“Call me later,” she says, and I nod, slipping into my class, where I zone out until the bell rings.

Sal’s goon is waiting for me when I emerge, and before I know it, I’m back of the town car headed toward the estate. I fiddle with my phone and consider contacting Ben, but I’m hesitant. What if I make it worse?

I know he suffers just as much as I, but how can he be so oblivious?

When we pull up to the estate, I make tracks to my room, hoping to hide out, but my efforts are stalled when Sal says, “Alice, your room is to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, um, yes. Thanks,” I say, silently damning myself for my awkwardness.

Is it because I’m aware of who he is now, or is it something I’m sensing below the surface of his dark gaze?

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