The tension in the room was palpable—thick enough to cut with a butter knife. A dull, slightly suspicious butter knife that had probably seen some stuff.
Salvo's hand was firmly planted on my waist, like he was trying to claim some kind of prime real estate. Waterfront property. High value. No resale. His eyes were glued to me, dark and intense, like I was his next big project—or a very confusing puzzle that somehow made him horny and homicidal at the same time.
I had no idea whether I was excited or terrified.
Spoiler: It was terror. 100% pure, uncut terror.
"For today," Salvo said with maddening ease, "I'll pretend you're not that annoying officer boyfriend I hate."
You think it sounds romantic?
BAH-!!!
Romantic, if you ignored the part where I felt like a kitten held by a toddler with no concept of gentle.
"I… uh… thank you for believing in me, sir," I said slowly, cautiously, like I was speaking to a live grenade.
His lips curled into a smirk. Oh no.
