Stolen Touches (Perfectly Imperfect #5)

“So, you would have let her work if the Irish were out of the picture?”

“Maybe. If she’d agreed to transfer to gynecology or pediatrics. Somewhere with no adult male patients.”

“Are you telling me you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.” I take a sip of coffee. “I just have an uncontrollable urge to kill any man who even looks at my wife.”

My mother watches me for a few seconds, then places her hands on the table and leans forward. “I truly hope thisis a passing infatuation,” she says. “God help her, if you’re truly fixated.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Because it is. You’ve always had issues connecting with people, ever since you were a child. She’s too young to handle someone like you.”

“Ilaria, please, you make it sound like I’m a psychopath.”

My mother sighs and shifts her gaze to something behind me. Her eyes remain glued to that spot for a couple of minutes, and she appears to be deep in thought.

“You’re my child, Salvatore. I love you the way you are,” she says, then looks directly into my eyes. “But we both know you’re not what most people consider normal. If I’m right, and if you do feel something for this girl, you’ll make her life very difficult. You know you become unreasonable when you fixate on something. You’ll need to either control yourself or explain certain things to her. Otherwise, she will eventually run.”

“What is it you think I’ll do?”

The phone in her coat pings.

“I wish I knew. Your brain is wired differently, son. Remember that.” She takes out the phone and looks at the screen. “Cosimo’s here. I’ll check on Alessandro, then I’ll be gone.”

“It’s interesting that you claim to hate Cosa Nostra, yet you’re in a relationship with one of my capos.”

“Of course I hate it. You almost died because of this fucking Family,” she barks, her mask of civility slipping a little. “I still don’t know how you survived. You have no idea what waiting in that hospital hall did to me, praying for the surgeon to come out and tell me you’d live.”

“I lived, Ilaria. And that was seven years ago.”

“You did, barely, and not without consequences,” she snaps, looking down at my left leg, but quickly averting her eyes.

Losing part of my leg affected Ilaria more than me. She still hasn’t quite come to terms with it. I always make sure to wear my prosthesis when she’s around because the last few times she saw me without it, she left with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She was fighting them back, but I saw all the same.

Ilaria takes her coat, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Call me if you need to talk. I’ll drop by this evening to see how Alessandro is doing.”

Chapter 17

I wake up with a tingling sensation at the base of my skull, and I’m instantly aware that someone is watching me. I don’t even need to open my eyes to know it’s Salvatore.

“What time is it?” I mumble.

“Three in the afternoon.”

Dear God, his voice has an even more devastating impact on my half-asleep brain. Deep and sexy, it makes me want to bury myself beneath the blanket and simply take in the sound of his baritone. Not the words, but the timbre. I wonder whether his tone drops even lower when he’s having sex. No, I’m not going down that rabbit hole.

I blink several times before fully opening my eyes and find Salvatore leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to the elbows, and his top two buttons undone.

“Did you check on the guys?”

“Yes. They’re good.” He looks at Kurt, who’s curled upon the pillow above my head. “Do you know your cat sleeps with its tail over your face?”

“He’s been doing that from the start. I tried to make him sleep at the foot of the bed, but it hasn’t worked.

“You should try again.”

“Why?”