Page 20 of The Mobster’s Present

Oriana peeks up at her mom. “Sal is safe.”

I’ll spend the rest of my life standing in front of this little girl to ensure nothing can hurt her. And I’ll love her mother just as fiercely.

CHAPTER 7

ASHLEIGH

I watch Oriana sleep, her face lax and unencumbered by worry. She looks peaceful and for a moment all I can do is breathe. Salvatore’s presence is steady and strong. He hasn’t faltered or even stepped outside since we arrived.

His suitcase is over in the corner right next to the one he had packed for me. I expected him to go to it at some point and pull out a laptop or files or something, but he’s been completely focused on Oriana and getting to know her.

The most amazing thing is that he hasn’t pushed. He reads her almost as effectively as he reads me.

He’s backed off when she’s become overwhelmed, giving her quiet and space. He’s kept his touch gentle and follows her lead, never taking affection and kindness that isn’t offered. He’s asked simple questions and learned about who she is without her realizing it or feeling like she’s being interviewed.

I can tell that he’s tucked away every little detail and committing it to memory. It’s endearing as hell.

Oriana is smitten with him. The bond between them was instant, I could tell in the way she leaned toward him and offered for him to sit close to her. Her hospital bed had been highly protected territory.

I’m not even allowed to sit on it all the time.

He sits back on the small couch and doesn’t complain that it’s not comfortable, even though it’s not. When I look at him, his dark eyes are open and full of adoration. It’s almost too much, too blinding.

“Thank you,” I break the silence between us.

He turns toward me and cups my face in his large hands. As he looks over the freckles sweeping across the bridge of my nose, his thumb brushes against my cheek. My face gets hot and he holds me in place, not allowing me to look away.

“You don’t need to thank me, Ashleigh. I take care of what is mine,” there’s a possessiveness in his voice that should not be nearly as hot as it is.

Hell, it should have me finding red pompoms and making a red flag routine, but here I am melting.

“You have been strong for so long,” his voice is hypnotizing, coaxing me to agree with him and go along with all of the plans I have no doubt he has. “It’s okay to lean on me. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll make sure Oriana gets well and then we’ll keep her safe along with any other children we’re blessed with.”

“I’m not sure if you are perfectly aware of the crazy that comes out of your mouth or if you actually don’t listen to yourself.”

“I’m perfectly aware of what I’m saying.” He sounds almost offended. It would be funny if this wasn’t so important.

“There’s no way you can be so sure about this.” I study his face and all I see is resolve and determination. “Aren’t you just swooping in because you see a problem that you can solve?”

One corner of Salvatore’s mouth curls up, the look on his face turning sinister. I’m reminded that he’s not just the man who held Oriana when she crawled into his lap. He’s also a man with blood on his hands, and who stands almost at the top of an empire that thrives in the shadows.

“I don’t swoop in and solve problems just because I have the money and the resources to solve them. If I did that then I wouldn’t have time for my job.” His voice is flat, but his eyes are dancing with mirth.

“Okay,” I concede, “you bring up a fair point and something I hadn’t considered.”

Without warning, Salvatore changes the subject, “Where have you been staying?”

I gesture around the room. “Here.”

He doesn’t look surprised. Maybe the bags under my eyes when he met me, and when I basically spilled all of my problems at his feet was an indication.

“That has to be difficult for both of you.” His voice is so damn gentle that I lean into him without thinking. “You’ve been so strong for her.”

No one has had my back, not without their first priority being Oriana, which is as it should be when it comes to the staff at the hospital. They check in with me, but it’s more a symbolic offering than anything real.

“Where is your apartment? Do you need anything from there?”

My cheeks heat up and I know I’m blushing. I want to hide from him, to not let him see, but he doesn’t let me go. His thumbs are rough as they glide over my cheeks again.