*Olivia*
“Uh, sure,” Sal replied, sounding somewhere between confused and pleased. “I can come over in maybe half an hour, or you can swing by here.”
I hesitated. Whatever else I felt about what Gio said, I couldn’t deny there was some evidence that Sal had Russian ties, maybe even deep ones.
“I’d rather meet somewhere public,” I said.
“Alright,” he said slowly. “You wanna eat? We could grab an early dinner.”
“No!” I snapped.
He fell silent. I took a deep breath to regain my temper. I was mad at Gio, not Sal.
Right?
Part of me, a part I didn’t want Gio to see, fought its way to the front. I was furious with Salvatore, almost as much as I was with Gio. I believed he wanted a relationship, but knowing he might be paid to have that, no matter what his desires were, made me sick with anger.
I hated being a pawn in these ridiculous mafia games. But I could be angry with him when I knew the truth.