Chapter 15
“Marco Salvatore? As in, the Marco
Salvatore?”
The name hit like a punch to the gut. Marco Salvatore was practically a ghost, a legendary tattoo artist who worked exclusively for the highest ranks of the mafia families.
He was said to have created the sacred designs themselves, passed down through generations. His work was a status symbol few ever earned the right to wear.
And here was Adrian, claiming Marco had given him temporary tattoos on a whim.
“You know him?” Adrian’s eyes glinted with something I couldn’t quite read.
“Know him? Nobody knows him. He’s…” I shook my head, trying to process this new information. “He only works for the most powerful families. Even Primo had to wait. months just to get an appointment for a
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single mark.”
“Really? He seemed quite accommodating when I met him.” Adrian straightened his collar, that infuriating half smile playing at his lips again.
“This isn’t funny,” I stepped forward and grabbed his shirt, feeling the solid muscle beneath the expensive fabric. “Marco isn’t some random artist who’d give you tattoos on a whim. He’s-”
Adrian’s gaze darkened, and a dangerous smirk spread across his face – the kind I’d seen on hardened mafia leaders.
“I do enjoy strong women.” His voice dropped lower, sending a shiver down my spine. “Especially ones who aren’t afraid to challenge a man.” His eyes locked onto where my fingers still gripped his shirt. “Though now that I’m taking quite a liking to you, having you this close…” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against my ear. “It’s making me feel things I probably
shouldn’t.”
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The shift in his demeanor was immediate and jarring. This wasn’t the awkward art dealer. This was someone else entirely.
“What do you mean?” I released his shirt and stepped back, trying to ignore the electricity that had sparked between us.
Adrian smoothed his collar, his demeanor shifting back. “You don’t need to worry. Like I said before, the tattoos are temporary. Perhaps that’s why Marco was willing to do them for me – they weren’t meant to be permanent marks.”
I frowned, considering this explanation. It made a certain kind of sense. The sacred marks were permanent commitments,
symbols etched into flesh forever.
Temporary designs wouldn’t carry the same weight or meaning.
“I suppose that could explain it,” I said, though something still nagged at the back of my mind. Marco was notoriously selective about his clients, temporary or not. But then again, Adrian had
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connections I didn’t fully understand. Maybe his art dealing brought him into contact with people like Marco.
“You’re not going outside without covering those tattoos completely,” I said firmly. “I don’t care how temporary they are – if the wrong person sees them…”
Adrian chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Yes, ma’am. Long sleeves it is.” He tugged at his cuffs. “Though I must say, your concern is touching.”
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. “Now about this dinner with Vincent…” My smile faded. “With Primo there, everything changes. We can’t risk approaching Vincent about protection – Primo would twist it somehow, use it against us.”
“Indeed.” Adrian’s expression grew serious. “Primo’s presence complicates things. He’d see any request for security as a direct challenge to his authority.”
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“Exactly.” I paced the room, running scenarios through my head. “He’d probably convince Vincent I’m just being difficult, trying to undermine him. Or worse, he might actually agree to the protection – but use it to keep tabs on me instead.”
“A valid concern.” Adrian watched me move, his gray eyes tracking each step. “Primo’s not one to let an opportunity for control slip by.”
“So what do we do?” I stopped pacing and faced him. “We need Vincent’s connection, but with Primo there…”
“Perhaps we need to adjust our strategy.” Adrian loosened his tie slightly. “Instead of asking for protection directly, we could explore other avenues. Vincent’s influence extends beyond just security measures.”
I leaned against the desk, considering his words. He was right – we needed a new approach, something Primo wouldn’t see coming. But what?
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“Sometimes,” Adrian said, moving to stand beside me at the desk, “the best strategy is to wait and observe. We’ll have a better picture of the dynamics once we’re at the dinner.”
I rubbed my temples. The thought of sitting across from Primo while trying to navigate Vincent’s potential alliance made my head throb. “I hate waiting.”
“I noticed.” Adrian’s shoulder brushed against mine. “But rushing in without understanding the full picture could be disastrous. Vincent’s no fool – he’ll have his own agenda for this dinner.”
“And Primo never shows
up somewhere
without a plan.” I crossed my arms.
“Exactly. So we watch, we listen, and we adapt.” Adrian’s voice carried a quiet confidence. “The evening will reveal opportunities we can’t predict from here.”
I glanced at him, struck again by how different he seemed now. There was
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something almost predatory in the way he analyzed situations, like he was several moves ahead in a game I couldn’t quite see.
“Fine,” I conceded. “We’ll wait. But I still don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it.” His lips curved into that maddening half–smile. “You just have to trust that sometimes patience yields better results than immediate action.”
The warmth of his body next to mine was distracting, and I stepped away from the desk. “Speaking of patience, I should probably head out soon. We both need
rest.”