Page 17 of By Blade, I Love
“I’m jealous when women stare at you, but it’s okay to make eye contact with a pretty woman.”
He relaxed in the chair. “Alright.”
“Alright? Why are you being weird right now?”
“I’m not being weird. You’re being weird.”
“No, there’s definitely something I’m missing.” I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about his behavior just seemed odd.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes. That’s why I asked.”
“Alright,” he said with a slight shrug. “She and I used to hook up.”
“Oh.” It was a shock at first, but then I realized it wasn’t surprising at all.
“And I didn’t want to look directly at her in case she recognized me.”
“In case she recognized you?” I burst out in laughter. “Oh babe, you’re unforgettable.”
That arrogant smirk stretched across his face.
“Well, you can make eye contact with women in front of me. I’m not that controlling and insecure.”
“Hmm.” He swirled his wineglass again.
“Hmm, what?”
“We don’t see eye to eye on that.”
“What do you mean?”
“If some guy you used to hook up with were here, I’d probably kill him.” He said it matter-of-factly before he grabbed his glass and took another drink, casual and calm like he absolutely meant what he said. “And that has nothing to do with being controlling and insecure.”
“Then why?”
“Because I don’t fucking like it.” His playfulness evaporated, and his eyes hardened. “And I don’t have to explain myself or justify my actions.”
Wolfe was never this aggressive around me unless someone crossed me, but he’d immediately exploded into the monster capable of the most violent depravity known to man. I’d never seen him say something he didn’t mean, so it seemed like he was serious.
Thankfully, the rage didn’t last long because one of the guys walked over. “Long time no see, Wolfe.” He extended his hand to Wolfe.
Wolfe took it, anger still on his face but slowly evaporating. “You’re going to be seeing me a lot more. Santino, this is my woman, Francesca.”
Santino turned to me and gave a nod but didn’t reach out to touch me. “I’m sorry about your father. Cosa Nostra didn’t like him, but we respected him as a businessman.”
The mention of my father immediately hit me with a burst of sadness. “Thank you.”
Santino turned back to Wolfe. “The boss wants you at his table.”
“Alright.” Wolfe stood up then helped me out of the chair before he escorted me across the terrace to a table in the center with eight chairs.
Don Russo was the focal point of the entire terrace, having the aura of a boss who ruled with respect rather than authority. He wore a blue blazer over a button-up shirt, and a cigar rested in his relaxed fingertips. He wore a wedding ring on his left hand, but one of the girls working the tables leaned in and kissed himon the cheek before she brought him another glass of wine. And she probably wasn’t his wife.
Don Russo severed his conversation with the guy next to him the second Wolfe approached. “My favorite lieutenant.”
“Your top lieutenant,” Wolfe said with a smirk. He pulled out the chair for me then took the seat beside me, his arm immediately draping over the back of my chair while his fingers grazed my shoulder.
