“Sure. Maybe she isn’t.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m surprised it’s lasted this long. You must be paying her better than I did the first time.”
“What?” I snapped. “What the hell are you talking about?”
His brows rose. “Oh. She didn’t tell you? Why do you think a girl like her agreed to go out with you in the first place?” He tipped forward again, elbows on his desk. “Money. You liked her, so I offered her cash to give you some extra attention, and she’d been all too happy to take it.”
I did not know how to process this new information. If I should believe him. Who I should be angry at. What to do about it. How to react.
All I said was, “We’re done, Sam.”
I turned and walked out of his office, hearing him call after me—something like, “Don’t be mad,” or maybe “Come on, Tore.”
But I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.
Returning to my office, I locked the door and began making calls.
Chapter Forty-four
Bea
Therewereatleasttwo bobby pins in my bra. Possibly three. I could feel them.
“Hold still,” Scarlet muttered behind me, her tone flat with the infinite weariness of a teenager forced into manual labor even though this had been entirely her idea. “You move one more time, Bea, I swear I’m shaving your head.”
“I signed up to be your practice dummy for victory rolls, not a buzz cut,” I reminded her.
“Well, I might change my mind. Grandpa Tony says it’s a woman’s prerogative.”
I snorted. “If that’s the case, I’m going to change my mind about being your mannequin.”
As usual, the kids had waylaid me when I’d gotten home from work, dragging Benjamin and me across the street. After running his little legs off in the yard, Benji-bear passed out on the bed the Gallo kids had bought for him, and I’d been roped into getting my hair done.
Notthat it had taken much convincing. I was beginning to regret my decision, though, as Scarlet drove yet another bobby pin into my skull.
“Be nice, Scar,” Lacey piped up from the arm of the couch where she was taking her official job as bobby-pin passer very seriously. “You’re gonna be so pretty, Bea. Like one of Grandpa’s movie stars.”
I already had one curl pinned lopsided over my forehead and what might’ve been a section of hair twisted into a misshapen blob on the left. I hadn’t seen a mirror, but the look on Tony’s face when he’d passed through the living room had said more than enough.
Talon didn’t want anything to do with our makeshift hair salon. He sat on the floor by Benjamin, reading quietly over his snores. “And then Reginald adjusted the silverware placement exactly one point five inches from the edge of the table,” he said, pushing up his glasses like a tiny professor. “Because, as everyone knows, precision is a sign of respect.”
Frank Sinatra crooned from the kitchen, and Tony hummed along as he stirred something rich and garlicky, his “Kiss the Cook” apron tied snug around his waist.
Altogether, it was kind of absurd, but it was also perfect.
Then the front door opened, and a moment later, Salvatore walked into the living room and froze, like his system couldn’t process what he was seeing. His gaze swept over us all. I probably looked like a madwoman, Scarlet behind me, jerking my head to and fro. Lacey, bubbling with boundless energy. Talon, reading to a snoring Benji. Tony, belting “Fly Me to the Moon” into a wooden spoon.
He didn’t say anything.
Just stared.
Unblinking. Nostrils flaring. Taking it all in.
His eyes locked on mine, and it took two heartbeats for them to soften. His mouth began to twitch, and a laugh traveled from my belly like it had wings and flew out of me.
“Hey,” I said.
He bowed his head, full-on grinning now. “What a sight to come home to.”
“Not half-bad, right?”
