Wrong (A Bad Boy Romance)(4)

My smile fades, and I lift a hand to stroke her face, run the tips of my fingers along the hair that’s pulled back along her head. “You in love with Sal?”

Her lips thin. “Sure.”

Of course she isn’t. A woman like this wouldn’t be in love with Sal. I’m not convinced anybody loves Sal, not even his mama. I give a sigh and tilt my head back, laying it on thick. “I wish I could find a nice girl like you, settle down, maybe have some kids. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

I’m just putting on a show for her, I tell myself, but the words hit a little too close to home even as I’m saying them. It would be nice to have someone like her waiting for me at home. A regular, everyday woman instead of the once-in-a-while girls I’ve satisfied myself with in the past. Or, worse, the only-for-a-night girls, many of whom collect their fee off the dresser before they slip out the next morning. And yeah. Married, with kids—I’d like that someday. No, not someday. Soon.

God, what’s wrong with me? I shake my head at myself.

“How soon?” Sarah asks, and it takes me a second to remember what we were talking about.

“You mean for the settling down and kid-having?” I ask.

“Yeah. That.”

“I don’t know. In a year or two, maybe?”

“So you’ve got the lady all picked out? You’re engaged, maybe?”

I shake my head. “No. Nobody picked out.”

She’s still looking right into my eyes. It looks for all the world like she might be warming up to me a little. “That’s an awfully tight time frame, then. You sure you can pull it off?”

I lean close to her, whispering again into her ear. “I can pull anything off, baby. That’s what I do. So what do you think?”

She stiffens suddenly in my half embrace, and for a second I’m sure I’ve offended her. She’s going to push me away and head off the dance floor, and take along with her any chance I have of cutting Sal off at the knees. But that’s not what’s going on.

Her body jerks away from mine, and not of her own volition. I look away from Sarah’s face to see Sal looming over us, his mouth twisted into an ugly snarl.

“The fuck you think you’re doing with this guy, Sarah?” he asks her, half spitting it. “I told you to wait at the bar.”

“We were just dancing,” Sarah says.

“Yeah, well, you dance with me, not with this piece of shit.” He yanks at her arm. “C’mon.”

“Sal, lay off,” I tell him, my voice almost a snarl. It’s not my business what he does with his woman, I know, but the way he’s jerking her around is pissing me off. There’s something about her…something more than just beauty and soft skin and that body, which I’d like to get hot and naked right up next to me in bed. I don’t know what it is. Not sure I want to know. But I do know I don’t like seeing Sal treat her like that.

Sal gets up in my face now. “Don’t you tell me what to do with my woman, Angelino,” he snarls. Then he looks back at Sarah, shaking her arm. “You been cozying up to this asshole, you stupid little slut?”

“Sal…” she starts, but I’ve had enough. I crowd Sal toward the edge of the dance floor, looking down my nose at him.

“You want me to give you a lesson in manners, you motherfucking little—”

“Nicholas.” The voice breaks me off immediately, mostly because I recognize it, and partly because I’ve been trained the last few years to respond to it automatically. I turn, backing down from my confrontation with Sal.

“Mr. Spada.”

Phil Spada is standing right behind me, a bland smile on his bland face. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” he tells me, and sets a hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you come on over to the bar? Let me get you a drink. We can catch up.”

I give Sal one last glare, but I can’t exactly put my fist in his face with Spada standing right here. “Sure, Mr. Spada.”

I go with him. There’s a stab of damn near physical pain in the middle of my chest at leaving Sarah alone with that asshole, but I go with him.

She’s used to him. She knows how to deal with him. She’ll be all right. The words repeat in my head, and I know they’re probably true, but I can’t convince myself to believe them.

Spada drops an arm over my shoulders, steering me toward the bar. “Enjoying the party, Nick? You win anything? Blackjack? Slots?”

“No, sir. Nothing. Yet.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. I told them to ease up on us tonight, let some of my boys take a few bills home.”

I shrug. “I’m just not lucky tonight, I guess.”