“That was for brown wavy hair and honey-colored eyes.”
Amusement edges into his expression. “Why are you interested?”
“I—umm—” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Do you have to make me uncomfortable?”
He chuckles.
A waiter comes to us. Hunter looks away from me and toward the boy, who’s in his late teens. The boy quickly avoids his eyes, growing visibly uncomfortable. I look at Hunter to make sure he isn’t glaring. He isn’t. He calmly places an order for our drinks. The boy nods and bolts away.
“So, you were telling me how many women you’ve slept with since losing your memory,” I go on, picking up where he left off.
“None.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you lying again?”
“It’s not something worth breaking your trust.”
I look down at the table. So many overwhelming emotions are colliding inside me. To be honest, I don’t even know how to react now that I’m almost a hundred percent certain he’s Salvario. Should I feel happy? Of course I do, but it’s not the only thing I’m feeling. I’m still afraid of the what-if. What if he isn’t him? What if it’s all just a coincidence? There’s another what-if—what if he’s someone else pretending to be Salvario, but that has zero probability. Only Antonio knows him well enough to impersonate him. There’s no one else who’s seen him that up close, he used to keep even his security at a distance.
Our drinks come, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I take a sip of mine and look at Hunter. “It’s non-alcoholic,” I point out.
I’m not an addict, but I could use a little alcohol to relax my shitty nerves now and then. I wouldn’t have minded one tonight.
“Alcohol isn’t good for you. You got sick last time you drank.”
I take another sip of my mocktail, hiding behind my glass. “I’m sorry for puking on you.”
“I’m not talking about that. You had a headache and a stomach ache all day yesterday.”
I raise a brow. “How do you know?”
“You spent the entire day in bed, looking visibly unwell.”
I sit straighter. “And how do you know that?”
“I can see into your room from mine.”
My brows shoot up. “You were peeking inside my room? Did anyone tell you that’s a creepy thing to do?”
“Logan did.”
I purse my lips, giving him a mock scowl. “You still did.”
“I can’t help it. You should be more careful and keep your curtains closed.” A smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got a creepy neighbor.”
Heat flares through my body, especially between my thighs. I should feel ashamed of getting aroused over the fact that he watches me through my window, but that would be illogical. If someone had told me Salvario was watching me from the window across from mine, I would have removed the curtains altogether.
I take a long sip of my drink to cool down, then ask him the most random question I can think of to ease the tension.
“Is the music to your liking?”
“No,” he answers flatly.
I laugh. He’s straightforward as hell, it comes off as rude to others, but I’ve always loved that in him. He never tries to filter himself. My happiness bubbles up. These are the small things no one can replicate, the small things that make my Salvario unique.
“If you want, I can play for you,” I offer.
