Chapter 14
Elowen
“I’ll be there before your boy’s out,” I promise Avi.
“You were also late when Alis and Efrin were born. If you come late tomorrow as well, I’ll take away all your rights as an aunt.” She tries to sound serious, but with her face looking like she’s about to throw up, the threat feels more like a plea.
I chuckle. “I’ll definitely be there on time. Now I have to go, so bye. Take care of yourself.”
She hums. “Did I tell you that you’re looking hot?”
I nod. “Yes, three times.”
She rolls her head to the side, she’s clearly uncomfortable today. “Alright, bye bye.”
“Bye bye. Take care of both of you,” I repeat.
She tosses the phone aside, and I end the video call.
I want to spend a lot of time with her. I’ve been the worst kind of friend to both Lyn and Avi during their pregnancies, but I know what will happen once I go there.
I’ll be a burden instead of a help, and the more I act happy, the more they’ll all feel guilty, thinking they’re making me suppress my real emotions.
I sigh, putting my phone into my bag and grabbing my coat. This time, when I go there, they won’t be as worried about me.
I take one last glance at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a short red off-shoulder, long-sleeved wool dress with black wool tights. My hair brushes against my bare shoulders. I pair the outfit with high-heeled boots. Since Christmas is around the corner, my outfit fits the vibe.
Bruno and Rosie follow me to the door. I lower myself onto my heels in front of them. “I’ll go out for some time. Be good babies, and don’t cause chaos behind my back.”
Bruno gives a small lick to my jaw; I kiss his nose.
My phone rings. I take it out and see a call from the guard’s number. I pick it up.
“Good evening, miss. Mr. Blackwood is here.”
“Send him in, and no need to stop him in the future.”
“Sure, miss.”
I end the call and put the phone back in my small bag.
I pat both of them, kiss their heads, then stand. They bolt out the moment I open the door. Hunter steps out of the black SUV just as they reach him.
He’s in an entirely different outfit tonight.
Instead of his usual shirt and trousers, he’s dressed in a black tee and jeans, a dark brown leather jacket over them.
He strokes Bruno’s and Rosie’s heads, giving me a slow stare from head to heel.
The flutter in my chest I’ve been feeling since evening—no, since yesterday—skyrockets.
Now it’s no longer a flutter; it’s fireworks exploding there.
My heart, brain, and body are totally convinced he’s Salvario.
He stands straight when I reach him.
“You look beautiful.”
I smile, heat rising up my exposed shoulders and cheeks, warming them against the outside chill.
“Thanks. You’re also looking very handsome.”
A faint smile curves his mouth, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him smile. I search his cheek, but the smile isn’t wide enough to bring out a dimple, if there even is one. I just hope the bastard who changed his face didn’t do anything to his dimple.
“I have to send them back inside.” I look at Rosie and Bruno.
I walk back to the house, and after filling their bowls with treats, I call them inside. They trot in and start eating. I pat them, then slip out quietly, closing the door behind me.
Hunter opens the passenger side door for me. I climb in. He stands there watching me settle into my seat. Once I pull on my seatbelt, he closes the door and walks to the driver’s side. I watch him through the front windshield, taking a deep breath to calm the rapid beating of my heart.
Calm down, Wen. It’s not like this is your first time being close to this man. He doesn’t remember, but I do—really well—all the things we’ve done, every second we’ve spent in each other’s arms. So it’s nothing new, just a small date night.
He opens the driver’s side door and settles into his seat. All the pep talk I gave myself vanishes as the scent of tobacco and citrus spice closes around me.
“Were you smoking?”
He glances toward me, then starts the vehicle. “Yes.”
He never used to smoke. This new habit isn’t good for his health.
“You shouldn’t smoke.”
“Okay.”
“What does ‘okay’ mean?”
“I won’t,” he states, eyes fixed on the road while mine stay on him.
“It’s not easy to quit. So I assume you’re just saying this to get rid of my nagging.”
“I won’t call it nagging.”
I press my lips together to keep my smile from showing. “You should, because I won’t stop giving you health lectures until you quit.”
“I won’t smoke near you.”
“So you’ll do it when you’re away from me?”
He shrugs lightly. “Maybe.”
I huff. He looks at me.
“It’s still bad.”
That small smile returns to his lips. “Stay close to me, and I won’t smoke.”
He looks back toward the road, leaving me flustered by the easiest flirt line.
“How are things going with your crush?” I ask, just to make the tension worse.
“I’m taking her to a piano bar,” he says nonchalantly.
“You lied to me that day,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
I sigh. “Nothing new.” You’ve always been a liar. I keep the other part to myself. I don’t want to freak him out by springing my theory on him that he’s Salvario.
The car comes to a stop. It’s the piano bar in the same market where we met for the first time. He gets out of the driver’s side and comes to my door, opening it for me. I turn to get out, but he doesn’t move out of the way.
“Are you mad at me for lying?”
I lean a little closer to him. “Maybe.”
He brushes the hair framing my face behind my ear, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. A tingling blooms beneath his touch, the sensation spreading through my body.
“I was afraid you’d think I was a serial killer.”
His hand falls from my face. He shoves it into his jacket pocket.
“It’s not impossible,” I breathe. “So tell me, if you’re not a serial killer, why were you following me?”
“Not long after recovering from the accident, I figured out that I’m obsessed with brown wavy hair and honey-colored eyes.
But when a woman with that combination comes close to me, I feel nauseous.
” He pauses. “Then I saw you on the balcony of your father’s house.
You were playing piano. I felt an unnatural pull to get close to you.
So I did some digging, found out who you were, and came here after you. ”
“Did you feel nauseous when I came close to you?” I barely hear my own words, my ears are ringing with the roar of blood.
I’m clutching the seat tightly. I know what his answer will be, but the more he shares, the more certain I become that he’s Salvario. It’s filling me with so much happiness and fear.
He chuckles. My heart drops and rises like it’s bungee jumping without ever leaving my chest.
His dimple is still here.
“I felt many things, but nausea wasn’t one of them.” I half hear him; I’m too focused on his dimple.
He must notice my stare, because the dimple vanishes and he moves aside, offering me his hand.
I drape my coat over my bare shoulders, then take his hand. His warm fingers close around my cold ones. I step out of the car, the warmth slowly traveling up my arm. I don’t think I need the coat at all. Staying close to him is enough to feel the heat I need.
The bar isn’t very crowded; we easily find a nice place to sit alone.
The piano music playing is an old composition by Henry Javid, the legendary pianist now in his eighties.
I once met him when I was ten and had just started playing decently.
He told me I would become a pianist the world would remember.
I don’t know if that will ever come true, but I’m afraid that if I keep staying away from the piano, even what little the world knows of me will be forgotten.
Hunter lifts my coat from my shoulders and drapes it over my chair before sliding it back for me to sit.
“You’re quite the gentleman,” I tease, settling into my seat.
“Logan said women like men with manners.”
“Is that what you also believe?”
“I never thought about what women like before I met you.”
I rest my elbow on the table and prop my chin in my palm. “How many women have you dated?”
I need to know how many women he’s slept with since losing his memory. I’m not a kind human when it comes to sharing.
“Didn’t I tell you I get nauseous when women come close to me?”
“That was for brown wavy hair and honey-colored eyes.”
Amusement edges into his expression. “Why are you interested?”
“I—umm—” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Do you have to make me uncomfortable?”
He chuckles.
A waiter comes to us. Hunter looks away from me and toward the boy, who’s in his late teens. The boy quickly avoids his eyes, growing visibly uncomfortable. I look at Hunter to make sure he isn’t glaring. He isn’t. He calmly places an order for our drinks. The boy nods and bolts away.
“So, you were telling me how many women you’ve slept with since losing your memory,” I go on, picking up where he left off.
“None.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you lying again?”
“It’s not something worth breaking your trust.”
I look down at the table. So many overwhelming emotions are colliding inside me.
To be honest, I don’t even know how to react now that I’m almost a hundred percent certain he’s Salvario.
Should I feel happy? Of course I do, but it’s not the only thing I’m feeling.
I’m still afraid of the what-if. What if he isn’t him?
What if it’s all just a coincidence? There’s another what-if—what if he’s someone else pretending to be Salvario, but that has zero probability.
Only Antonio knows him well enough to impersonate him.
There’s no one else who’s seen him that up close, he used to keep even his security at a distance.
Our drinks come, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I take a sip of mine and look at Hunter. “It’s non-alcoholic,” I point out.
I’m not an addict, but I could use a little alcohol to relax my shitty nerves now and then. I wouldn’t have minded one tonight.
“Alcohol isn’t good for you. You got sick last time you drank.”
I take another sip of my mocktail, hiding behind my glass. “I’m sorry for puking on you.”
“I’m not talking about that. You had a headache and a stomach ache all day yesterday.”
I raise a brow. “How do you know?”
“You spent the entire day in bed, looking visibly unwell.”
I sit straighter. “And how do you know that?”
“I can see into your room from mine.”
My brows shoot up. “You were peeking inside my room? Did anyone tell you that’s a creepy thing to do?”
“Logan did.”
I purse my lips, giving him a mock scowl. “You still did.”
“I can’t help it. You should be more careful and keep your curtains closed.” A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a creepy neighbor.”
Heat flares through my body, especially between my thighs.
I should feel ashamed of getting aroused over the fact that he watches me through my window, but that would be illogical.
If someone had told me Salvario was watching me from the window across from mine, I would have removed the curtains altogether.
I take a long sip of my drink to cool down, then ask him the most random question I can think of to ease the tension.
“Is the music to your liking?”
“No,” he answers flatly.
I laugh. He’s straightforward as hell, it comes off as rude to others, but I’ve always loved that in him. He never tries to filter himself. My happiness bubbles up. These are the small things no one can replicate, the small things that make my Salvario unique.
“If you want, I can play for you,” I offer.
“Will you?” A flash of brightness ignites in his dull gray eyes.
I nod.
He glances around. “I don’t want you to play here.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
“If you’re playing for me, I want to be the only person listening.”
I smile. “You know I’m Ella?” I’m certain he does.
He nods.
I chuckle. “Well, you’re quite the stalker. Make sure my father never finds out about your little project.”
He signals the waiter for the bill.
“Let’s go home.”
“But I don’t have a piano at home. I’ve been avoiding one for a long time.”
“I have one.”
The bill arrives. He pays and gets up. There’s an urgency in his movements.
He isn’t polished and calm like my brother and cousins.
He’s raw, a wild man who never tries to hide what he wants.
Even if he tries, he can’t pull it off. These past few weeks, he was trying not to appear so into me.
I almost convinced myself, thanks to my messed-up head.
But anyone with a slightly less tangled mind could clearly see how he used to look at me.
“Why are you so eager for me to play for you?” I ask as we walk out of the bar.
“I’ve wanted to hear you play ever since I heard you on that balcony.”
After we settle into the car, he takes out his phone and types something.
“Can I ask what you’re doing?”
He puts his phone back in his pocket and starts the SUV.
“You can always ask me anything,” he states, holding my gaze, then turns his head and starts driving. “I texted Logan to get lost from the house.”
“Why?” I ask, turning my body toward him.
“I told you, I don’t want anyone else to hear you play when you’re playing for me.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Where exactly will Logan go?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you,” I quip.
“He’s a grown-ass adult. He doesn’t need my care in such things.”
I chuckle. “I don’t really understand how male bonds work. It’s funny, cute, and stupid, all at once.”
We reach their house in less time than it took us to get to the bar. The automatic gate opens, and the car drives inside. The SUV carrying my bodyguards, who’ve been following us all evening, stays outside.