Chapter 12: The Best Cured Meat

POV. SALVATORE DI SANTE.

“Damned brat,” I hiss when I observe the mark around my neck the next morning. The red line is evident, and I know I'll have to do something to conceal it. I hit the sink and scoff, enraged by my appearance. The wretch attacked me from behind, she strangled me! But I’ll get my hands on her; she’s going to pay for this, though I’ll have to think carefully about how to repay this affront. I must admit her action surprised me. It never crossed my mind that she was capable of doing what she did; Alright, now I know what I’m up against.

When I recovered from the shock, I went to her room, but the damn girl had blocked the door with the dresser. I’ll be condemned if I let my family know that Helena tried to choke me in the bathtub.

I enter the dressing room and prepare for the day. Shirts won't cover the mark, and just looking at a tie makes me flinch—son of a bitch. I look around and clench my teeth when my eyes fall on the sweater; it's black, so it will work. I put it on and a blazer over it. I finish dressing, grab my things, and leave the room. In the hallway, I stop at the door next to mine. I grab the handle and pull it. To my surprise, it opens, but there is no one inside. I can't help a smile tugging at my lips before I discard it as I continue my way.

Aldo appears in the lobby. “Good morning, sir,” he snaps, looking at me with some surprise—yes, I’m wearing a damn sweater when it's 27 degrees Celsius (80°F).

“Good morning, Aldo,” I stop in front of him. “Helena?”

“The Signora left very early,” he announces. “And as she asked yesterday when she arrived, I retrieved the keys from the maid and sent one of the workers for her car.”

I nod. “Good, I’m going to the office,” I say, walking past him.

“Aren’t you going to have breakfast?” I shake my head before walking past him toward the garage. My family will ask questions, and I'm not in the mood to answer them.

I drive away from the villa to my office. The morning traffic doesn't help improve my mood, and people move at a slowness that exasperates me. When I finally park, I enter the building, ignoring everyone who also looks at me like I’m an idiot. I get into the elevator, and the doors close.

When I get out on the top floor, Luciana is sitting behind her desk. I see her looking at me with wide eyes, but immediately her expression changes to a professional one.

“Signor Di Sante, good morning.”

“Good morning,” I grit my teeth, entering my office with her following me. My pending tasks are already organized on my desk.

“Do you want to review the agenda now?” I lean back in my chair and look at her.

“No, get me breakfast, and then we can look at what’s on the agenda.”

She nods. “Right away,” she stutters and blushes when I raise an eyebrow, looking at her seriously. “You may go,” I gesture with my hand, and she almost stumbles out of my office.

Luciana doesn't delay with breakfast, which is from the restaurant I like. After eating it, I immerse myself in my documents, and I'm starting to calm the anger inside me when the door opens and Renzo appears.

He whistles as a greeting. “Can you tell me why you came to the company disguised as a mafioso?” I give him the finger without looking, and he laughs before I feel him sit down on the other side of the desk. “You fled home this morning, why?”

“I didn't know I had to give explanations for what I do,” I look up to meet his curious gaze. “It’s good that you arrived because I'm putting you in charge of the ten o'clock meeting.”

He opens his eyes in surprise. “Where are you going?”

“I have to see someone,” I snap simply, and I point at him. “You need to know that Helena was close to discovering your activities a couple of nights ago,” I say, “I can't always be watching your back.”

His expression hardens, and he nods. “Thanks, that would have complicated things,” he says reluctantly.

“What you need to do is accept that your destiny is with Paulette; it’s what is expected of you.”

“Don't mess with me, Salvatore! I don't have to comply with our parents' whims as if I were a kid,” he speaks with evident anger and stands up. “Look what they did to you—now you’re married to a woman you don't love and even detest, you married the enemy.”

“I thought you liked her.”

“I actually only feel sorry for her; she doesn't know what she's gotten herself into,” he confesses, and I look at him with interest. “I’m not going to tell her anything that could compromise us or reveal your plans. I know you suspect Mauricio had something to do with Ginevra’s death, but don't you think it's unfair to make her pay?” No one in the family knows that Ginevra was pregnant; after the accident, I decided to keep that a secret. It no longer mattered. Both were gone.

“Tell me, do you like Helena?” He laughs at my question and rolls his eyes. “You don't lose the idiot in you. Can't I just feel sorry for someone? That doesn't mean I like her.”

“Good, but you don't reassure me because pity is worse, Renzo.”

“I’m not going to get involved in your plans, or anyone's. Do you see the difference?” His tone is ironic, and I grimace.

“I’m just telling you what you don't want to see. Stop playing games and take things seriously.”

“Paulette is unbearable…”

“Get married and move on with your life, but don't compromise your future for anything or anyone. The family demands it, and you know the family is everything.”

He nods seriously. “I’ll think about it,” he finally murmurs just as the door opens. Eva opens it and, like the rest, looks at me in surprise.

“You look… different this morning.”

“We have the Italian mafia boss in the office,” Renzo mocks, and Eva shakes her head.

“Are you okay?” Her honeyed tone makes me cringe.

Renzo imitates her, standing in front of the double doors leading to the terrace, and I avoid laughing at his gestures.

“I think I’ll go prepare the ten o'clock meeting,” he murmurs, drawing our attention.

“I’ll send you what I have.”

He nods.

“What? Isn’t Salvatore going to predict it?”

“I have something to do,” I snap curtly, I don’t have to give her explanations.

“By the way, how did things go with the Robertses yesterday?” Renzo asks, stopping halfway.

“Well, his wife was charmed by Helena, and it was a good idea to bring her.”

“I see that’s your wife's quality,” Eva blurts out ironically, and I look at her questioningly. “Well, I saw her very animated with Antonio yesterday; they were most entertained when I arrived to meet with the man,” she announces and sits in the chair Renzo just vacated. She studies my reaction, and seeing that I’m impassive, a pout creeps onto her lips. Renzo approaches the door and gives Eva the finger before leaving. He is not a fan of Eva simply because she is Paulette's friend and is aware of what my brother is doing. Both families expect the union, and Eva knows it.

I stand up and expertly pick up my mobile and close the laptop.

“I don't know what your comment is meant to achieve, but I'm not interested; stick to your own business.”

“Alright?” she smacks her lips. “Do you want to meet in the hotel room later?” she winks at me.

“No, Eva. I don't have time; I have to organize a trip to close the deal with Manson.”

“I suppose I'll go with you?” I look at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Why would you go with me?”

“I always do. I mean, until now, everything has worked that way.”

“Now things work differently.”

“Let me guess, you’re going to take that bitch?”

I look at her, giving her a clear warning that I won't tolerate a scene. She fidgets and makes a pitiful pout. Pathetic.

“Who I take on my trips is none of your business, you should know that, Eva. Now, go with Renzo and work on the meeting; I have to leave.”

“Where?”

I don't answer. I leave the office. Let's see if the cat still has sharp claws this morning.

POV. HELENA ROSSETTI.

I look at the screen in front of me and let out a snort that turns into a giggle as I remember Salvatore's face in the bathtub yesterday. But the laugh dies when I remember I have to return to the villa. Last night, I didn't have dinner, nor did I let them bring me anything. Instead, I blocked the door with the dresser and was able to be calmer, but during the day... “Fuck!” I whisper in the solitude of my office.

This morning I left earlier than normal, and thanks to Aldo sending for my car, I was able to get to the deserted office where I confined myself. I know I acted out of anger, but I don't regret it; he deserves what I did.

I hear the door open. “Tell me you brought me coffee, Livia,” I murmur without looking up from the computer.

“I’m not Livia.” My fingers freeze on the keyboard, and I look up to find Salvatore at the door of my office. He’s not wearing his usual tailored suit; instead, he's wearing a sweater, and I feel laughter bubbling up to a full-blown roar. I laugh to the point of feeling tears prick my eyes, and I wipe them away while catching my breath.

“I see I amuse you,” he snaps, closing the door behind him.

I stand up quickly, and my laughter dies. Damn it! “If you attack me, I’m going to scream.”

He raises an eyebrow as he approaches, and I circle the desk, keeping the distance between us. “Salvatore.”

“Yesterday you were very determined, and now I’m wearing a damn sweater in September, September!”

“Well, let’s just say you’re setting a new trend now.” I scoff, and he glares at me.

I look from him to the door and run for it, but I don’t make it, as he also realizes my intention, and we collide like two freight trains while he wraps his arms around me. I shriek as Salvatore stumbles before falling onto the nearby sofa, managing to position me beneath his body before he lands. The air leaves my lungs, and I gasp, feeling his breath in my ear.

“Now tell me how it feels to be at a disadvantage?”

“Asshole,” I hiss, snorting and struggling beneath his body, but it’s a mistake because my fitted dress rides up, leaving my thighs exposed against the fabric of his trousers.

“If you’re going to hurt me, you better think twice…”

“Who said I’m going to hurt you? I should repay you for what you did, but I can wait,” his voice is low and sends shivers through my body.

“Can you get off?” I feel angry about his closeness. I feel more than see his smile.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“Fuck off, Salvatore.” I squirm and feel something hard digging into my butt when I move again. I open my eyes in surprise. “I hope that's a spicy soppressata in your pocket and not what I’m thinking,” I sputter, and he lets out a careless laugh that surprises me.

“Believe me, what I have is better than salami. It's the best cured meat,” he replies with an egocentric tone.

“You narcissistic piece of shit.”

The door opens, and we both look at it to see Antonio standing motionless, looking at us. He clears his throat and looks at the scene.

“Weren’t you taught to knock,” Salvatore growls unfriendlily as he stands up, being careful to block the view of my exposed thighs.

“I’ll come back later,” he murmurs, somewhat flustered, before leaving and closing the door again.

I stand up, struggling to pull down my royal blue sheath dress that I put on this morning.

“You didn't have to treat him that way.”

“To hell with it, I treat him however I please.” He looks over his shoulder, giving me a sarcastic smile. “Are you worried he’ll get jealous?”

“You only talk nonsense,” I murmur, moving away from him.

He gives me a small truce, and though I don’t tell him, I appreciate it.

“I know you only came here to intimidate me; I know it, I’m not stupid.”

He sits in the chair across the desk and looks at me with a carefree expression. A light tap on my door catches our attention. I clear my throat before speaking. “Come in.”

My father enters with a big smile. “They told me you were here,” he says in greeting to Salvatore, whose posture changes and whose expression hardens.

“I came to visit Helena, is that not allowed?”

“Of course, it’s allowed, you are family,” he approaches the desk. “I’d like to discuss some things about the project with you.”

The tension could be cut with a knife. I watch the exchange closely, and it’s evident that neither of them can stand the other. I know our families hate each other, but the tension between them goes deeper, and it’s something I plan to discover.

“By the way, I assume Helena told you we expect you for dinner tonight at our house, and we want you both to be present.”

Damn it!

“We haven't discussed the matter,” I barely murmur, shifting uncomfortably.

Salvatore looks at me before looking at Mauricio. “Of course, we will attend.”

I avoid making a face; the last thing I want is to be under everyone's scrutiny. My father is hosting this dinner just to show off.

“I’m going to take Salvatore to the boardroom; you can continue with your work.”

“Of course,” I say, taking a seat in my chair. Dad leaves the office, and Salvatore stands up.

“I haven't forgotten what you did,” he whispers and pulls down the neck of his sweater to show me the mark around his neck.

My eyes widen because I didn't think it was that bad. He narrows his eyes when I fight back a smile, turns around, and when he closes the door behind him, I cover my mouth and laugh.

Ups!

But just as I laugh, I also stifle a cry of frustration because the last thing I want is to go to dinner with my parents. Their circle of friends is awful. I let out a sigh of resignation. My gaze falls on the sofa, what was I thinking? I shake my head at the memory of what just happened.