A smile tugged at my mouth. “Like you had to ask.”
Chapter Eighteen
Marcello
Days after seeing Rhi again, I still couldn’t get her out of my head. Not even with Alex splayed on her bed, a charcoal pencil in hand as she sketched another idea for the Many Faces of the Devil series my brother had inspired. For a while, Alex was the only woman in my life. Rhi was in Europe, and Carl Wellington had given Alex a choice between Luca and me.
But I knew Alex would never choose me, not when she was in love with my brother. Even when Luca was cruel and hateful, she still loved the bastard. I think because he was so broken, she loved him more. She wanted to fix him.
Rhi never tried to fix me. And I like that about her. Too bad my dad would never allow his son to be with the daughter of an Irish gangster. In his eyes, Salvatores were Founders and Knights, too good for commoners. He would find me a wife, eventually, and I was sure she would be beautiful and compliant. None of that appealed to me. Because I would always want what I couldn’t have. It had been that way since I was a child.
I wanted my father’s love and never got it.
I wanted to be an artist and got punished.
I wanted Alex, but she chose my brother.
I wanted Rhi, but she was never mine to keep.
Sitting in the armchair by the window, I tipped the glass of scotch to my lips. Alex glanced over at me as if she were studying my features. She’d drawn me a few times, but I didn’t want to be the subject of another one of her paintings.
I rested the glass on my knee, eyes on the gorgeous blonde staring at me with fascination. “Why are you giving me that look?”
Alex smiled. “I could use a drink.”
I set the highball glass on the table beside me. “What do you want?”
She beamed with delight. “Sweet tea.”
I could tell she had something up her sleeve. Alex could give me all the innocent looks in the world, but she had a little devil hidden beneath her perfect exterior.
I pointed my finger at the bed and warned, “Don’t move.”
Alex had a habit of defying my orders.
She raised her hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, boss man.”
I left her bedroom, taking the back stairwell to the Butler’s kitchen, and poured a glass of sweet tea. With the Albanians looking for Alex, and a bounty on her head, we couldn’t afford to leave her unattended. Even the two minutes it took me to return to her room were two too many. I had been tracking our enemies’ movements, waiting for them to pop up on my radar again.
It was only a matter of time.
They’d tried kidnapping Alex, and I got shot defending her. My life had hung in the balance, and even after the surgery, I wasn’t sure I would come out from that experience alive. But I was here, doing my best to guard Alex because Luca was busy running Salvatore Global.
I handed Alex the glass, and she smiled, offering me a quick thank you. She sipped the tea, her eyes on the sketchpad as I dropped into my chair. Since her return to Devil’s Creek, I sat in the same chair every night. It was my job as the head of security to secure the merchandise.
Alex nursed her tea while I downed half of the scotch in one gulp. We sat in silence, something we often did. She seemed to understand that I craved those quiet moments. I was used to working alone. When I was home, I worked from what Alex called my Spy Shed in the backyard. I showed it to her right after she moved into our house.
Alex rummaged through her art supplies. She flipped to a new page in her sketchpad and laid the book on her thighs, cradling a charcoal pencil between her slender fingers. My eyes closed for a moment, a sudden tiredness washing over me. I hadn’t slept properly in weeks, maybe even years. Not with everything we had going on with the Albanians and the Knights.
Fighting sleep, I forced my eyes open. My irises burned the harder I fought against the tiredness working through my body. Alex leaned back against the headboard and glided the pencil across the pad.
I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand.
Alex lifted an eyebrow at me. “Tired?”
I yawned again. “I haven’t slept in two days.”
What the fuck is wrong with me?
And why do I feel like I’m on drugs?
That was the last thought I had before my head hit the back of the chair, and I lost consciousness.
I awoke to water splashing across my face, soaking through my clothes. My head pounded as if a rock band had taken up residence, the pain so intense it hurt to open one eye.