Sal scrubbed a hand down his face. “Cutting it close, don’t you think?”
“I was across town, doing shit. You know that.” Tony’s gaze cut to me. “You all right, Miss Trassato?”
I nodded, and the motion caused my entire body to sway like a rag doll. My fingernails scraped on the wall, attempting to catch my balance.
Oh shit.
I didn’t feel so good. Sal was across the room lifting me up in a matter of seconds and cradling me in his arms. I burrowed my face into his chest, drinking in his unique smell, now tainted with the metallic scent of death and destruction. Somehow it still managed to be the antidote to everything swirling inside of me.
“She’s in shock. I need to get her out of here.” Sal’s deep voice vibrated through my limp body, and I didn’t think I could open my eyes even if I wanted to. He rubbed my scalp, and I tightened my arms around his neck.
“Yeah. Yeah, get her home.”
“Did you reach out to Dominick?”
“Nah, he’s got that thing goin’ on, and he’s out of commission until tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll get in touch with Angelo, and he can handle Dominick.”
CHAPTER TEN
I woke up in my bedroom an unknown number of hours later, not remembering how I got there or who put me there. I rolled onto my back and rubbed my eyes. My body ached, and my head throbbed like someone had hit me with a hammer repeatedly.
“Are you hungry?”
Startled, I shot up in my bed. “Oh, it’s you.”
Sal had pulled my desk chair up to the side of my bed. His legs were stretched out with his feet resting on the end of the mattress. His hair stuck out in every direction, and more than a days’ worth of stubble coated his bronzed face.
I smiled for a second, then everything came back to me and I curled my fingers into my white sheets.
“You were going to let him kill me,” I choked out, closing my eyes and turning away from him. He kissed me on a lark, but didn’t give a shit if I died, showing me how little he cared. “Get out of my room. Go home. I don’t need you here. I’m fine.”
He shifted his legs off my bed and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’ll leave when Mr. Trassato returns.”
“Ugh.” I tossed a pillow at his face, and he batted it away effortlessly. “Go away. I don’t need a babysitter. My dad leaves me here alone all the time. He knows no one would dare come near his house, much less break in.”
“I know.”
I scooted away from him, pulled the sheets over my body, and took a deep breath. “Please leave, Sal. I want to be alone. I don’t need anything. I promise.”
He held up a white paper bag. “Eat first, and then we can talk about whether I’m leaving.”
My stomach grumbled. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah.” He opened the bag, handed me a lukewarm calzone wrapped in paper, and kept one for himself. “Tony dropped us off some dinner about a half hour ago.”
I opened the paper packaging on my lap. The smell of cheese, sausage, warm bread, and roasted red peppers filled the air. I loved this restaurant. It reminded me of my mom’s cooking, one more item on a long list of things I missed over the last five years. When she died, she took everything worthy and admirable about our life and family with her.
My dad never laughed anymore. We never had a home cooked meal except on the rare occasion our housekeeper took mercy on us and prepared something, and we didn’t talk to each other unless it was absolutely necessary. My dad moved her piano to a guest bedroom so he didn’t have to hear me play. As a matter of fact, I had no clue why he insisted I continue taking lessons when he hadn’t attended a single one of my performances since her death.
“How long have I been sleeping?”
He crumpled up his wrapper and stuffed it back in the empty bag. “Not long. Maybe two hours.”
“Hmm.” I finished off the last few bites of my food and tossed the wrapper on the floor. “All right. You got me home and fed me, and I’ve never been happier. You’ve done your duty. You can go. I don’t need your pity in the form of babysitting or kissing.”
Mortification burned through me, clamping around my neck like an invisible hand. I swore I had cried my last tear for this man. Being around him made me a person I never wanted to be. My mom cried over my dad too many times, and I promised myself I’d never be the woman who wallowed in her miseries and rejection, yet here I was letting Sal rule my thoughts and emotions.
“Marone.” He frowned and clutched the arms of the chair until his knuckles were white. “Pity has nothing to do with me kissing you or staying with you tonight.”