Diavolo

xlvii

SILVIO

I placed the bottle of 1931 Chateau Pichon Lalande on the kitchen island—one of Presley's favorite brands of wine.

        It wasn't exactly my favorite because there were other expensive and Italian wines that tasted better than that cheap shit, but she liked it, so I loved it.

I moved towards the sink, throwing the towel over my shoulder, and watching as Beast started laughing hysterically on Facetime. After finishing work at the casino, I'd headed straight for Presley's and cooked up some spaghetti with Sicilian Pesto.

Cooking for her was one of my favorite things to do. I loved the soft look on her face whenever she watched me cook, the satisfaction in her eyes as she tried new dishes. Fuck, it was almost as good as an orgasm.

That shit made me all warm and fuzzy inside.

"You gonna save me a plate?" Beast asked suddenly. He'd facetimed me earlier just to piss me off and get on my fucking nerves. And like the idiot I was, I made the grave mistake of answering.

I shot him a side-eye. "Fuck no."

His gaze narrowed. "Well fuck you then." And with that, he ended the call.

Thank the fucking lord.

The sound of the front door beeped, alerting me to her presence as she walked into the apartment. The smile I'd been wearing dropped when I caught a glimpse of another figure as well. Fucking Desmond.

He was standing by the doorway, glancing down at Presley with that love-struck expression on his face. Something I knew too well, and he couldn't hide.

Their voices were hushed, almost quiet and I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying but the sound of her laughter traveled, hitting me in the fucking chest.

I bet he's funny, isn't he?

The slam of the door resonated in the air followed by the click-clack of her heels. I didn't turn around or respond because I needed to fucking calm myself down from walking down the apartment and shooting him in the head.

And I knew Presley would throw a fit because one, she loved this apartment. It was new and a fresh start. And two, she had trauma with gunshots ever since Rufus was shot in front of her.

I inhaled a deep breath, unclenching my jaw and exhaling slowly and I wiped down the kitchen counter.

A sharp oomph left my mouth when I felt a pair of hands wrapping around my waist and the soft brush of skin against my shirt. Damn it.

I shook my head knowing I could never stay truly angry whenever this woman was around me. Twisting my body, I curled a hand around her waist and hefted her ass flat on the kitchen counter.

Eyes wide, flushed cheeks and a face filled with makeup. Her black coils had been pulled into a low bun with pieces of curly hair flying out in the front.

She was now wearing a white wrap dress I knew was only for formal events but the thought of Desmond being close to her, touching her while she looked like this—fuck.

"Hi partner." She greeted with a soft voice and placed a hand on my chest.

She must have seen the sour expression on my face because she continued, "Nothing happened between us. He was just dropping me home."