Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I watched the Salvini brothers bicker and tease each other, which was kind of nice and surreal at the same time.
I had always heard how the Italians were nothing more than uptight bastards with designer suits, big egos, and zero chills.
But Vince, Matt, Hero, and Dante didn’t seem uptight. They didn’t seem so bad at all.
And they all were objectively gorgeous.
Who would’ve thought those Michelangelo statues were actually factually based on reality? At least, the Salvinis must’ve had some amazing genes.
“What are you looking at?” Fee asked and pulled me out of my reverie.
“Just the scenery.”
Fee raised a single eyebrow. “Scenery, my ass. They aren’t so bad, those Italians, are they?”
If anyone should know, it was Fee since she married one of them. “I was just thinking how accurate Michelangelo’s David really is.”
Fee grinned. “Pretty accurate actually. Only down there, they’re bigger, but that may vary.” She waggled her eyebrows, and I shook my head and swallowed when a vision of Vince under the shower entered my mind uninvited.
“So, what’s the ranking; what do you think?” she whispered, and I could feel heat rising up my chest. Did I really want to think about the Salvinis’ dick sizes?
Well, I already knew Vince’s, and if he was any measure, the size of the Salvini men varied greatly from Michelangelo’s David.
And if I were totally honest, I didn’t think any of his brothers were bigger than him.
“Vince, then Dante, Hero, then Matt, is my guess,” Fee whispered. “Just by the BDE they’re exuding.”
I nodded, “Yes, that makes sense.” I stared at them, still not used to how gorgeous they all were—though, somehow, Vince stood out, in a league of his own. His presence commanded attention, an intensity that was both unsettling and captivating. He was the personificationof BDE, the attitude matching the physical.
His dark hair was still slicked back, making him appear cool and mean. I definitely preferred it the way he looked all wet and tousled.
Get it together, Jemma Donnelly; enough simping over Vince Salvini.
Annoyed at my wandering thoughts, I forced my focus back to Matt, Hero, and Dante.
Much safer.
My gaze met Petra’s, who was staring at Fee and me from all the way across the table, yearning clearly visible in her eyes.
She looked totally isolated since all the Salvini men completely ignored her. And I couldn’t help but wonder. She was young. Very young—our age—but that was no reason for them to treat her that way.
“What’s the deal with Petra?” I whispered to Fee.
She sighed. “I guess she’s the latest in a long string of trashy women going in and out of here. Alex said she’s our age actually. Apparently, Salvini senior is a major creep.”
I nodded. I totally got that vibe. Also, the way Alex, Matt, and Vince acted kind of gave it away. Then my gaze fell on Fee’s lap and Alex’s hand, which was hidden under the linen napkin in her lap, snaking its way up between her thighs.
“Oh Jesus Christ, get a room,” I whispered.
Fee froze and pushed Alex’s hand away, which resulted in a stern look from her husband before he settled his hand behind her back.
Matt leaned over the table to see what the fuss was about. “What did I miss?”
I only grinned and shook my head.
“Your best friend was groping me under the table, and your future bride took offense,” Fee blurted out, and suddenly, the table fell silent.
I would’ve literally died, right on the spot but not Fee. She’d always been spunky, but Alex seemed to give her even more of a boost these days.
“Well, thinking about it, there’s worse things to do to kill time,” Hero said with a waggle of his brows.
And I could feel heat creeping up again.
“You don’t agree?” Dante, who sat next to me, murmured in my ear. “I pinned you as someone who would appreciate some attention.” He wiggled his fingers.
Oh my God. I looked down at my plate, my lap, anywhere really. Why would he say that? Why? Really? The heat reached my face, and I didn’t need a mirror to know I was probably beet red.
“Dante,” Vince snapped, and I looked up and stared at him, but he was fully focused on sending a scathing look toward his brother.
Did he hear what Dante said to me? Or was he watching me the whole time?
Anyways. I needed to turn the subject of discussion back to a safer one.
“What’s your father like?” I asked into the group because there was nothing safer, and more off-putting than thinking about Salvini senior. Also, I wanted to know if Fee’s and my assessment was right.
The skin around Vince’s eyes tensed, and he pressed his lips together at my clumsy attempt at a change of topic.
“Count your blessings he isn’t here,” Matt said and leaned closer.
Intrigued, I turned to him. “Why?”
A shadow crossed Matt’s features. “He’s ice-cold. Borderline crazy and a pathological womanizer.”
I followed Matt’s eyes to Petra, who shrunk in her seat.
Poor woman. But also, why the fuck was she with someone like Mr. Salvini when even his own sons disliked him?
My gaze flickered to Vince, who watched Matt next to him, then moved his gaze to me from across the table as if he’d sensed my attention.
The electricity between us was undeniable, and a part of me sparked at having his intense attention fixed on me—what a mind-fuck, considering the less he thought about me, the better my chances were.
“How would you describe Vince’s personality? Is he similar to your father?” I asked, unable to resist the curiosity while I held his gaze. I raised a challenging eyebrow when Vince narrowed his eyes, then severed our contact and stared Matt down.
Not that Matt cared. He didn’t even take a moment to think about it. “On the outside, they may seem alike. But once you get to know him”—he pointed at Vince with his thumb—“you realize he’s completely different.”
Dante and Hero nodded in agreement.
I looked back at Vince, and he immediately met my eyes as if he’d been waiting for it or staring at me the whole time.
I immediately looked away, unable to hold his intense gaze.
Somehow, even though he’d bulldozed through every boundary there was this afternoon, and the way he looked at me was a little disconcerting, I did not get a creepy vibe from him.
Not at all, which was kind of surprising.
Not even when he undressed me; not even when I watched him naked, wet, and jerking off. I never felt unsafe with him. The opposite really.
The way he cared for me, the way he handled me—it was in stark contrast to the image I had originally built in my mind.
I wanted to know more about him—more about the man beneath the hardened exterior. Yet, I forced myself to remain silent, knowing it was safer to keep my curiosity in check.
I looked at Matt, who seemed deep in thought.
Matt looked up, stared at Vince for a moment before he met my gaze. There was something in his eyes, pain, maybe, or regret? “All the expectations really fell on him as the oldest,” he continued, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. “He really had it the worst.”
“Matt,” Vince interjected.
But Matt ignored him. “Father’s not an easy man, and the majority of his attention was always aimed at Vince.” Hero and Dante nodded but remained silent when Matt continued. “For as long as I can remember, he always stood between Father and us, took the attention off of the rest of us.”
My heart clenched at the rawness in Matt’s words. It painted a picture of Vince’s life that was starkly different from what I’d experienced. While my father was powerful and hard on the outside, he was the best father a girl could wish for. Losing our mom nearly broke him, and yet, he never once showed us anything but love and care.
Another reason why it was so difficult for me to break out of my current situation; well, that was until he agreed to Vince’s crazy proposition. I wouldn’t even in a million years have thought he would agree to something as humiliating, as completely ridiculous as an arranged marriage.
But maybe it was the push I needed to break free from family obligations and live the life I really wanted to live.
Even though it would hurt my dad more than anyone—which plain and simple sucked—and hurt me.
“And your mother?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation and my thoughts in another direction. I had almost no recollection of my mother—apart from a few memories that consisted of warm smiles and soft laughter, a stark contrast to the Salvini family dynamic.
Matt chuckled bitterly, running a hand through his dark hair. “Vince’s mom died when he was only twelve.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I snapped my gaze to Vince, who was poking at the food on his plate.
Oh, shit—major foot-in-mouth moment.
I had been ten when I lost mine, and without my father and my sisters, I would’ve never gotten over it. I couldn’t imagine twelve-year-old Vince losing his mother while being the oldest, and with his father being the way Matt described, having no one to lean on. That thought sent shivers down my spine.
“Hero’s, Dante’s, and my mom is around somewhere,” Matt continued nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely with his hand.
“She’s in Ibiza right now,” Dante interjected.
“And Isa and Mira’s mom…she was just an affair and never in the picture,” Matt said and concluded the glimpse into their disjointed family structure.
Silence hung heavy in the air.
I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent, my thoughts swirling in a storm of sympathy and confusion. This was the reality of the Salvini family—hidden beneath layers of power and wealth. A broken family bound by blood, loyalty, and shared burdens.
Vince asked Alex about Gabe, and Hero joined their conversation and talked about his last call with Cristiano Falcone. Apparently, the Falcone brothers and Salvini brothers were all very close to each other.
I took a bite.
Dante elbowed me in the side and grinned. “Are you shocked? We’re pretty dysfunctional for a good Catholic family, aren’t we?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm that didn’t quite match the look in his eyes.
“You seem to get along okay, though,” I said, and Matt grinned at me from across the table.
“We love each other. Maybe even more so because we grew up the way we did.”
Maybe.
Or maybe because of Vince—bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelty, shouldering the weight of expectations, and standing strong, protecting his siblings, caring for everyone, and keeping them together. Somehow, for some strange reason, I could totally see that.
I wanted to dig deeper into his past, and the urge to understand him—to peel back the layers and see the man beneath—which had been simmering for a while, intensified and became almost overwhelming. I stole a glance at him across the table, and his dark eyes met mine again. His face was a mask, and his dark eyes conveyed nothing. He was completely unreadable.
How could one man have so many vastly different sides?
I’d gotten glimpses of that softer side of him this afternoon. But then, there was also his ruthless, dominant side. The one he’d shown me more than anything else.
No warmth, no softness—only…coldness and strength.
He narrowed his brows, and my heart suddenly beat faster until he focused back on his conversation with Hero and Alex.
I looked down at my plate.
This was not a fairy tale, and Vince Salvini wasn’t a tragic hero or a helpless child.
He was a dangerous man—a man I should keep my distance from.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet Isabella and Mirabella tonight,” I said.
Matt chuckled. “I think you would like each other. You’re close in age and, from what I’ve seen, similar; you share a spunk level.”
I stared at him. “Spunk?”
Nobody had ever called me spunky. But I somehow liked it.
“They are also completely spoiled brats who practically live with Vince whenever they come home from college,” Dante said with a shake of his head. “He complains about it constantly, but we all know he secretly loves having them around.”
I blinked, surprised by this new piece of information. “Is Vince’s girlfriend okay with that?” I asked, trying to sound as if I was just making conversation, not burning to hear the answer to that question.
Dante and Matt stared at me for a beat before bursting out laughing.
I frowned, utterly bewildered by their reaction.
Once Matt caught his breath, he grinned at me. “No woman other than Isa or Mira has ever stepped foot in Vince’s apartment. It’s his golden rule—he never takes them home.”
The way he held my gaze after that statement, as if he was trying to convey something without outright saying it, made me slightly uncomfortable.
He never takes them home.
But he took me there. Vince had kidnapped me, brought me to his home, thrown me in his pool, showered me, and left me in what was apparently his sisters’ room and wardrobe.
Despite his “no women” policy.
I shifted my gaze to Vince, studying his striking profile while he was talking with Hero and Alex.
He’d broken his own rule with me. Why?
I stared down at my plate as if I would find the answer in the remnants of my food but looked up when I felt the weight of Vince’s stare, his intense eyes burning into me like a physical touch.
The way he looked at me was unnerving yet somehow thrilling at the same time. A shiver ran down my spine as our gazes locked, and I had to tear my eyes away before the heat building inside me became too obvious.
And herein lay the problem.
Why would Vince Salvini take me to his apartment when he could’ve taken me anywhere?
Why did he look at me like he wanted to devour me sometimes, and like he wanted to kill me at other times?
What was going on inside his brain? And did I really want to know?
The more I learned about this enigmatic man, the more complicated and puzzling he became, and my life was already complicated enough.
So the less I knew about the real Vince Salvini, the better. And vice versa.