Chapter 47
Elowen
I scroll through haircut tutorials by Jerry Johnson—the best hairstylist in the world. And I’m the narcissist who thinks she can match him by following his tutorials. My victim? None other than poor Salvario, who’s cooking us lunch while I sit on the kitchen island, plotting the demise of his hair.
His hair has grown so much. He hasn’t had a cut in a month; Antonio usually does it, but he was in Greenland while Salvario was in San Diego.
I close my phone after watching the tutorial.
“It’s easy,” I announce. “We’re doing it after lunch.”
He picks up the plates he just finished plating and brings them over.
“I can wait three more days.”
I take the plates. He pulls up a stool and settles in across from me.
“I still want to do it. I want to give you a nice, handsome look of my choice.”
I hand him his plate and start eating.
“As you wish, Princess.”
I smile around a mouthful of food.
After lunch and loading the dishwasher, I take him upstairs to the salon. It has two sections—one for men, one for women.
I lead him to the men’s side and point at the chair. I grab an apron for myself and a cape for him.
Once he’s settled, I drape the cape over his chest and fasten it at his neck. He’s now covered in black from chin to knees.
“Let’s start with your beard.”
It’s grown like crazy in the five days since he last touched it.
I pick up the trimmer and start just below his sideburn, careful not to trespass into his head hair.
He watches me closely as I work, bending close to his face.
It’s been five days since we started living together, and he still looks at me like he can’t get enough. I have zero complaints. If anything, I’m thrilled that my man is this obsessed with me.
When I finish, I step back and admire my work. I grab the brush, whisk the stray hairs from his face, and stand behind him, pride written all over my face.
“Don’t you think I’m a natural-born barber?”
He smiles. Without the beard, his dimple is even more pronounced. I bend down, pressing my cheek to his.
“I made you even more handsome.”
“You did.”
I kiss his cheek. He turns, catching my lips, and we kiss for long minutes until my neck begins to ache from the angle. I pull away, rubbing my neck. I lick my lips, stand tall behind him, and pick up the scissors.
“Time for the hard part.”
I prop my phone on the stylist’s stand and start the tutorial. I follow every step without thinking. I’ve heard you ruin things when you start using your brain while following a tutorial.
It takes almost an hour, but the results are amazing.
I pat my sore shoulder. “Well done, Wen.”
Salvario studies himself in the mirror, tilting his head this way and that.
“Never had a haircut like this,” he mutters, not looking very impressed.
“It looks good on you.”
His mouth turns down. “Not sure I agree.”
“It really does. You look like you’ve shed ten years.”
He raises a brow. “You’re calling me old again.”
I laugh. “I’m complimenting you. You look young. It’s a good thing.”
I brush off the stray hairs and remove the cape, then step in front of him. Without the cape, the haircut combined with that body makes him even more handsome.
He grabs my hips and tugs me forward, spreading his legs to make room for me.
“I don’t like looking young.”
“Why?”
“How will you call me old man if I look young? And how will I punish you?”
I chuckle. “You only look young. Inside, you’re still an eighty-year-old man.”
He leans back, guiding me down onto my knees. My hands find his inner thighs as he works open his sweatpants. He barely needs an excuse to punish me, not that I’d call them punishments. I love every single one. Especially this one.
My mouth waters in anticipation. Taking him in, making him lose control, filling this salon with his moans and groans.
He frees himself. I wrap my hand around him, stroke slow, then take him into my mouth—all the way down. His groan rumbles through his chest, I feel it echo between my thighs.
Salvario
Her phone rings. Her father. He never misses his nine o’clock call—asks about her day, sometimes updates her on Naples. Today is no different.
She’s lying in my arms, talking with her father about rebuilding the city I burned.
“Of course I’ll stay there.”
I frown, pulling back slightly. She meets my eyes and smiles.
“I don’t have a problem with you assigning extra security. I plan to stay long enough to meet everyone personally.”
Her father says something on the other end. She lifts her free hand to my face, traces my jaw with her thumb, smiling.
Her smile falters as Alessio keeps talking.
“No. I don’t agree. Security isn’t the problem. One—there’s no enemy. Two—you already have the best security force in the world.”
She listens, then grins.
“Yes. That’s perfect.”
He says something that makes her giggle. I feel my own mouth tug into a smile, watching her light up.
“Good night. I love you too.”
She ends the call. I take the phone from her and disable the data collection using the custom app I installed, it blocks any feed her father’s security might try to access. I set it on the nightstand and turn back to her.
“You can’t stay in Naples.”
Her brows lift. “Why not?”
“I hate that city, Princess.”
“You already burned what you hated there.” She shifts closer, searching my face. “So why do you still hate it?”
“It doesn’t matter how many times I burn it. The memories of that place will never leave me.”
She sighs. “Okay. I won’t stay long, just long enough to meet the people. When you’re with me, we’ll stay wherever you want.”
I pull her closer, until her face is inches from mine. “You just argued with your father about it. Not going to argue with me too?”
My heart fills with the sheer fucking wonder of her love for me.
Her hand cups my jaw, thumb tracing my cheek.
“Dad didn’t want me to go because he thinks it’s unsafe. You don’t want me to go because of your trauma. Dad’s concern has a solution, that’s why I argued.”
My hand slides up her back, into her hair. I tug her forward and crush my mouth to hers.
Her hand moves from my cheek to my hair. She kisses me back with the same intensity.
I pull back and hold her face. “Let’s go there together.”
Her eyes widen. “But you just said—”
I kiss her again, not letting her finish.
“I want to fight it.”
Once the boy is gone, nothing will tie me to those memories anymore. I’ll be able to forget. And she’ll be there to help me.
She grins, cradling my face in both hands. “And you’ll win.”
Her mouth finds mine again.
Yes. I will win.
I’ll live with her however she wants. Even if she chooses to spend the rest of her life in Naples—undoing everything I did—I’ll stay. I’ll watch her breathe life into the ashes of yet another place.