Salvatore

40. Ivy

40

IVY

I’m still coasting on an adrenaline-filled high after I get out of the shower and throw on a deep red sundress, the light material allowing my healing wounds freedom to breathe.

I grab my phone, eager to connect with the outside world, and find a text waiting on my screen.

Allison

I miss you so much.

The adrenaline peters out, replaced with longing and so much guilt.

I iced her out, hoping to ignore how I’ve treated her. How I fabricated a life and fed her that mistruth on the daily even though she’s one of my best friends.

But I can’t ignore it anymore.

She deserves more from me.

I make my way through the house, unsure where Salvatore disappeared to as I escape outside through the living room doors. The crisp green lawn grounds me as I hit call.

She answers in less than two rings. “Ivy?”

I raise my face to the sun, picturing her in my mind. “God, I’ve missed you. So damn much.”

“It’s been horrific.” Her words tumble out in a rush. “It’s like I lost a limb… A really cute one that always made me feel like I had my shit together, you know? I didn’t realize how much I rely on you as my emotional support human. I should be mad at you for ghosting me, but here I am, about to ugly-cry my eyes out.”

“You should definitely be mad. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Liv told me all the things… Well, enough to let you off the hook and then some. I just wish I could’ve helped.”

“You did.” It’s the truth. “Knowing I could call you at any time and be immediately greeted with support helped me get through. I think I kept you as a last lifeline in case things got too dark.”

“Is that what you need right now?” Concern enters her tone. “Your last lifeline?”

“No. Not at all. I’m good. Really good.” I stroll toward the massive aviary, the chirp and chatter of exotic birds greeting me. “After weeks of uncertainty, I’ve finally found some footing.” I scan the yard, taking note of the blond guard who spares me a casual glance from his perimeter walk at the back of the property.

“Does that mean you’re coming home?”

“Not exactly.” I pluck a flower from a nearby shrub, feeding it through the aviary’s wire to a waiting Quaker parrot. “There’s still people in Baltimore who wouldn’t offer me a warm welcome, so I have to take it slow.”

“I understand. I’m just being needy. I miss your main character energy livening up the funeral home.”

I chuckle. “Sure you do.”

“No lies here, chica. Life’s been missing some color without you in it.”

I hum a note of sardonic agreement. “Well, brace yourself, because when I return there’ll be a whole new color scheme added to the palette.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll be adding a splash of baby pink or blue.” It’s not the best way to announce a pregnancy. It could possibly be the worst, but I can’t help nibbling my bottom lip, waiting for her reaction.

“Umm? Excuse me? Could you please clarify what the hell you’re talking about, Miss Diaz? I’m jumping to outlandish conclusions over here.”

I smile, already knowing she’ll support me no matter what. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence greets my admission. Long and loud and kinda awkward before she screeches, “ Are you fucking with me ?”

“No. It’s only early days, but my uterus is officially a VIP lounge.”

“ Holy-motherfucking-shit ,” she bursts out with a surprised laugh. “Well, that’s one way to step back into my life in true Ivy style…” She pauses a beat, the quiet filling with tension. “But wait… Was this?… Were you?”

I know where her thoughts are at, and I hate that they’ve justifiably gone there.

“It wasn’t from abuse, Al.” I feed another flower through the wire of the aviary, gently nuzzling the crown of the parrot as it picks at the stem. “The conception wasn’t planned but was definitely enjoyed.”

More silence follows.

Then her voice cuts through it, sharp and accusing. “ Well? Is there going to be a ticker-tape parade for the father reveal or do you think you could put me out of my misery?”

I chuckle, thankful my abdominal wounds no longer stab through me when I laugh. “His name is Salvatore. He’s the brother to Olivia’s lover boy.”

“Wow… okay. Something super spicy must be flowing wildly through that gene pool for the two of you to be so deeply hooked. But aren’t they both—I don’t even know if I should be saying this out loud, but—unsavory kinda guys?”

This time my chuckle is internal, kept beneath the cage of my ribs at the image she paints of the man I’ve fallen for. “Unsavory is a polite way to put it. But yes, I’ve grown attached to someone whose life is littered with criminal activity. I guess I’m drawn to it, given my upbringing. I really do adore him, though.”

She sighs. “You know what? I’m not even surprised. This situation is entirely Ivy Diaz-coded. I assume from the positive gleam I hear in your voice that you plan on keeping your tiny heir to the underworld.”

My belly erupts with a mass of fluttering butterflies. “Yes. I do.”

“ Holy-goddamn-shit .” She squeals so loud I have to tear the phone from my ear. “I can’t believe it. You’re going to be a mom . I bet Liv freaked when you told her.”

“Ah… well, I haven’t gotten around to telling her I’m keeping the baby. She’s not exactly a member of Salvatore’s cheer squad?—”

“But you’ll be sisters-in-law .”

I pull the cell away again, her shriek threatening to burst my eardrum, the birds matching pitch with increased squawks and shrieks. “Don’t get carried away. The outlook for my future is kinda fluid at the moment. I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow, let alone seven months from now.” I turn my back to the aviary, determined to find a segue to fast-track me out of the complicated conversation when one stares me right in the face.

My smile falls. My heart plummets along with it.

“Al, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call again soon, okay?”

“Yep… sure. I’m so excited?—”

I disconnect the line and cling tight to my cell as I hold the gaze of a raven-haired guard standing a few feet in front of me. “Can I help you?”

His lips curve upward, the expression lacking warmth as his fingers rest idly on the holstered gun at his hip. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He raises his voice over the birds’ excitement. “It sounded like you were having a nice conversation.”

I swallow over the apprehension coating my throat. “I was speaking to a friend.”

He inclines his head, taking me in from head to toe before glancing over my shoulder to the house. “You’re that cartel woman everyone is talking about.”

It’s not a question, so I don’t respond.

“They say you’re pregnant.” He lazily strolls closer. “I guess your phone call confirmed it.”

“I didn’t realize my reproductive state was a hot topic.”

He shrugs. “It’s not. Just being polite, that’s all.”

I nod, on edge as I glance toward the house—no sign of Salvatore. “Aren’t there rules about staff speaking to guests?” I take a retreating step, peering over my other shoulder. “I know Catarina was under strict rules.” Another guard meets my gaze from the boundary fence fifty yards away, his posture stiffening.

“Probably. I’m relatively new. Only been on the payroll a month or two.”

“Right. Well, just FYI, Lorenzo doesn’t appreciate fraternizing. You should get back to what you’re paid to do before you lose your job.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” There’s a chuckle in his voice and part of me wants to believe it’s a fun gesture. Unfortunately, I’m not that naive.

He doesn’t get back to work. Doesn’t show any intent to walk away.

Instead, he eyes me, the humor leaving his features for something more serious to take its place. It’s not threatening, but it’s not friendly either. “Look, I’m going to be honest and say I’m really curious about how you got to be in Mr. Cappelletti’s home, pregnant, and in a state to be smiling and laughing on a phone call. Are you a prisoner here or is this more of a romantic rendezvous?”

Warning bells ring in my ears as I take another retreating step. “That’s my business.”

“Wait.” He lunges forward, closing in, and grabs my healing wrist. “Your family are worried about you. They want you to come home.”

I balk, staring at his fingers a mere inch from my wound. “Please let me go.”

Normally I wouldn’t be nice. But this situation isn’t normal. I’m not at a club, batting away unwanted advances. I’m pregnant, recovering from an attack, and desperate to return inside to the small safe space I’ve carved out beside Salvatore.

“We’re just talking. And your family are making plans to?—”

“ Ivy ?” Salvatore’s vehement shout cuts through the birds’ chatter from across the yard.

The guard tightens his grip and steps closer. “Tell him everything’s all right before?—”

A gunshot has me ducking for cover, my scream lost to a sea of violent bird shrieks.

My arm is released. The guard stumbles backward with a cry.

“ Ivy .” Salvatore’s shout is louder this time, closer as I stare numbly at the guard clutching his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I’m swung around to face stark, dark eyes, wild with fear.

I nod. “I’m fi?—”

I don’t get to finish the placation before Salvatore releases me and launches at the man, crash-tackling him to the ground.

His fist smashes into the man’s jaw with a sickening crunch. There’s another punch, then another—sharp, punishing blows that split skin and paint his knuckles red.

“Salvatore.” My voice is weak, barely a whisper of noise through the birds' chaos.

He doesn’t stop. He keeps pummeling. Keeps brutalizing the man beneath him who can barely raise his arms in a vain attempt to shield his face—blow after merciless blow—as more guards rush forward.

“Salvatore,” I plead. “Please stop.”

He doesn’t listen. I’m not sure he can. He’s lost to the violence. Caught up in madness.

“Salvatore, please .” I approach, hoping to snap him out of it by placing a hand on his back.

“Don’t intervene.” Another guard grabs for me. “You’ll get?—”

Salvatore cuts his attention to us— no , to the man touching me—his breaths sawing in and out, chest heaving, posture tense. “Get your fucking hand off her.”

“I’m no threat.” The guard raises his palms in surrender, retreating slowly. “I just didn’t want her getting hurt.”

“Maybe that should’ve been your priority when one of your own was threatening her.” Salvatore rests on his haunches, fingers twitching, gaze livid as he scans the four armed men surrounding us. “Why was he allowed near her?”

The guard beneath him barely moves. He’s a beaten mess of groaning flesh and blood.

“I was approaching to investigate when you shot him,” another man offers. “He hasn’t been on the team long. I assumed?—”

“Don’t ever fucking assume.” Salvatore climbs to his feet. “Take him to the basement.”

My blood chills as the guards obey, grabbing the barely conscious man by his arms and feet to drag him toward the house.

Salvatore closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, his knuckles bloodied and swelling.

I keep my mouth shut, giving him a minute, letting the anger ebb before I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

I’m not exactly sure what I’m sorry for, only that I’m one hundred percent sure I am as the bird chatter settles to a more tolerable hum.

“I thought he was going to kill you,” he growls.

I nod. “I can understand that, but?—”

“No, you can’t.” His arm drops to his side. “I thought I’d fucking lost you. That I was about to watch someone in my uncle’s employ take you the fuck away from me.”

I drag in a guilty breath as I remain barefoot on the lawn while he’s all tall and broad and seeming so much larger than usual, the aggression coursing through him giving a Hulk-like effect.

“I’m fine. He only wanted to talk?—”

“This is what I can’t deal with, Ivy.” He bridges the space between us in a hostile step. “I can’t fucking do it.”

I blink in confusion. “You can’t do what?”

“This.” He gestures wildly between us. “Pretend the world isn’t out to get you. Sit on my fucking hands when I should be out there taking the lives of those who want to hurt you.”

“Salvato—”

“I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life,” he sneers. “It’s unacceptable.” He shoves a hand through his hair.

“Salvatore—”

“I won’t live like this. I fucking refuse.” He gets in my face, all wild and unruly, his volatility so deliciously chaotic I want to curl up in it and make it my home. “Marry me.”

I falter. Blink. Wait for the punchline.

Wait for any line.

But when no forthcoming clarification of his insanity is offered I lean into a half-hearted laugh, trying to appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood. Only the starkness staring back at me doesn’t lessen.

“Marry me, Ivy.”

My lungs fill with lead, the heavy weight seeming to drag my internal organs to the soles of my feet.

His eyes narrow to menacing slits. “That man dared to threaten you?—”

I shake my head. “He didn’t threaten?—”

He wraps a hand around the back of my neck. Claiming. Comforting. “He approached you. He intimidated you. Whatever his plan, it wasn’t innocent. Nobody would even dare to talk to you, let alone touch you, if they knew you were my wife.”

My heart gallops wildly beneath my ribs. “Salvato?—”

“Don’t placate me,” he warns. “Don’t lessen this. Don’t pretend it wouldn’t have destroyed my world just as much as yours if he’d killed you.”

I swallow, caught up in his vulnerability and not entirely sure how to deal with it. “You’re unsettled. You’re probably in shock. Once the adrenaline wears off you’re going to laugh about the craziness of proposing. And I’m not going to let you live it down.”

His nostrils flare, his jaw ticking as his hand falls from my neck, the retreat of contact feeling more than physical.

The air between us thickens, charged with everything unsaid, everything he’s holding back.

“Fine,” he growls, sliding a hand around my waist and leading me toward the house. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, you need to get inside. I want you to lock yourself in your room and get the gun I gave you the night you arrived.”

“Why? What are you going to do?” I plant my feet and wait for him to follow suit. “Are you going to continue hurting the guard?”

He stops and meets my gaze without answer.

“Salvatore?”

“There’s only so many times I can make you an accessory,” he snarls.

I shake my head. “You don’t need to do this.”

“It’s both needed and wanted, mi bella reina . And if what you desire is full transparency, then know this—I will torture him. Not only for answers, but for pleasure. I will repay the torment of that split second when I glanced out the window and found him in your face with his hand on his weapon. I will teach him what it feels like to have his soul ripped from his body, because that’s exactly how it felt thinking you would be taken from me. Then I’ll grant him the mercy of death—because I want to be able to sleep tonight knowing there’s one less person out to get you.”

His words hit me with the energy of a storm, wild and chaotic, but there’s also an unruly, empowering undertone. One that comes from having someone fighting for me instead of against.

He gets in my face, eyes hostile, features carved in fury. “That guard will become the cautionary tale people whisper about for years, Ivy. He’ll be the proof of what happens to anyone who dares to lay a hand on the woman who carries my child.”