Page 79 of The Mafia King's Reign
Oh my God. I have too much going on right now to deal with this. I know she means well and under normal circumstances, I’d probably be jumping for joy. Unfortunately, I have this marriage that I have to get through and I have so many secrets I’m keeping from her I don’t even know how I’ve been able to do it. But there's another part of me, a part that's been buried under contracts and captivity and the constant weight of survival that feels something dangerously close to hope. At least this is something that would be mine. To have my book published and be an author in my own right would be a dream come true for me. But now is just… not the time.
"I'm going to kill you," I mutter.
"You're going to thank me when your book is featured all over the world." She waves the man over. "Daniel! Over here!"
Daniel Ashworth is attractive in that polished, metropolitan way. He’s wearing a tan designer suit, which is a change fromthe last few weeks of seeing men in black all day every day. He has perfectly styled blonde hair and a smile that's probably closed a thousand deals. He slides into the booth next to Lindsay, across from me, and extends his hand.
"Valentina. I've heard wonderful things."
"Lindsay exaggerates." I shake his hand. His grip lingers a beat too long.
“She tells me you’re working on a literary piece. About what it means to protect stories that would otherwise be lost.”
His eyes sparkle with interest. "I'd love to hear more about it."
We talk. Or rather, he talks, and I try to keep up while my mind races. He asks about my writing process, my inspirations, my timeline. He leans in when I speak, his attention so focused it feels almost invasive.
"Your friend was right," he says, swirling his whiskey. "You have something special. I can tell just from talking to you."
"You haven't even read my work."
"I'm good at reading people." His smile sharpens. "I know talent when I see it. And I see... a lot of potential here."
His eyes drop to my neckline, lingering there for just a moment too long. This is uncomfortable.
I shift uncomfortably, pulling my cardigan tighter. Lindsay, who’s been texting for the last few minutes, finally puts her phone down only for it to buzz again. She glances at it with a frown.
"Shit. I have to take this, it’s for a hearing tomorrow." She's already sliding out of the booth. "Five minutes, I swear. Daniel, be nice."
"Always," he says smoothly.
The moment she's gone, the energy shifts.
Daniel moves closer, his arm stretching along the back of the booth behind me. Not touching, but close enough. Too close. My mind drifts to Nico who’s sitting at the bar, and then to Salvatore.
"So, Valentina." His voice drops lower. "Tell me more about this fiancé of yours. Lindsay mentioned you're engaged, but I don't see a ring."
"It's being sized."
"Convenient." He's definitely looking at my chest now. "You know, I work with a lot of writers. Mostly women. And I've found that the creative process is... intimate. It requires trust. Connection." "Is that so."
"Absolutely." His hand drops from the booth to my shoulder, fingers brushing against my bare skin. "I think you and I could have a very productive... partnership."
I go rigid. "I think you should move your hand."
"Don't be shy." He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. "I can open doors for you that you didn't even know existed. All you have to do is be... friendly."
I'm about to drive my elbow into his ribs when a shadow falls over the table.
"Touch her again, and die."
The voice is ice. Pure, lethal ice.
I look up, and Salvatore is standing at the edge of the booth, his face carved from stone. He's in all black as always. He’s glaring at Daniel's hand, where it rests on my shoulder, and the look in them promises violence.
Daniel's face goes pale. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
"You have three seconds to take your hand off her before I remove it from your body." Salvatore's voice doesn't rise. Doesn't need to. "One."
