Page 68 of Cavaliere

“You’re ungrateful because you continue to defy him day in and day out. He’s taken you out of that shithole you called home, offered you his protection, which I don’t think you can even begin to comprehend what that means, and brought you here. You should be on your knees thanking him.” Rob continues to sneer.

I’m seething.

My hands are shaking with anger.

If I was stronger and knew he wouldn’t hit me back, I would land a punch square to his stupid jaw. He’s always acted like he would rather be anywhere else but guarding me, but this? This is fucking insane.

I didn’t think Rob would ever be like this. Does he have the personality of a potato? Yeah. But this is like a switch flipped and brought out a whole new side of Rob.

“You’ve got some fucking balls talking to her like that,” Delaney snaps as she steps around me so she is now face to face with Rob. “What is your problem?”

Rob’s nostrils flare as he stares down Delaney. He doesn’t say anything for what feels like five minutes, but it was probably only thirty seconds. All I know is I didn’t breathe the whole time.

He’s making me nervous.

The anger in his eyes is new, and I have no idea if he’s going to lash out. Matteo isn’t here, and the house is empty, so basically, we would be fucked if he did do something. Delaney and I can hold our own against your average drunk dude, but I don’t think we would make it against a Mafia dude—babysitter status or not. “Come on, Dell. Let’s go upstairs, “ I say, tugging on Delaney’s arm in an attempt to get her to move.

Delaney’s eyes never leave Rob as she lets me drag her away. I can feel his eyes on us with every step we take. I don’t feel any sort of relief until we’re behind the closed bedroom door.

I flip the lock just in case. I know in reality it won’t actually keep him out, but the sound of it clicking into place slows my racing heart.

“What the fuck was that?” Delaney asks as she whirls around to face me, eyes wide.

“I literally have no idea, but that was fucking weird,” I say as I start to pace. I’ve always been a pacer. Stress and anxiety bring it out. That’s part of the reason why I run. It allows me to actually “pace” in a different sense without someone thinking I’m a freak. “Like, that was weird, right? I mean, Rob’s always acted like he would rather be anywhere else, but he’s never been that… hostile!”

“I was ready to deliver a swift kick to his balls if he took another step closer. You need to tell Matteo to get his men in line. They can’t be acting like that toward you. If it happens again, he and I are going to have a little chat.”

I let out a groan as I flop down on the bed. “I know I need to, but that’s like one of his men. I don’t want to be that girl that rips everything apart.”

“It’s not ripping anything apart. It’s one man out of probably at least a dozen. And if Matteo doesn’t value you enough to even talk to Rob about what just happened down there, then he doesn’t deserve you. Because I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch my best friend be treated like trash.”

She’s right.

And I hate that she’s right.

The last thing I want to do is have this conversation with Matteo, especially after last night's events. I feel like we ended it on a good note, and I’d like to keep it that way.

“Come on, bitch.” Delaney slaps my leg. “Show me that ass. I brought my good Sharpie.” I watch as she pulls it out of her back pocket and pops the cap off. “See? The tip is still perfect.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it… “That’s what she said.”

We both stare at each other for a moment before we bust out laughing.

“It’s not technically my ass.” I head into the bathroom before pulling my pants down enough so you can see the marks.

“Holy shit,” Delaney says as she leans in to look at them up close. “Are those from his fingers?!” Her wide eyes shoot up to me. “And his hand?!” She’s full-on squealing now. “Oh my lord, that is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I need to find myself a Mafia man,” she says as she fans her face.

The memory of last night flashes through my mind, making a lazy smile take over my face. “Yeah, it was pretty fucking hot.”

“So what exactly am I tracing? A bad mole?”

I wait a moment before answering, watching her lean in again, looking for what I’m assuming is whatever mole she thinks I have. “I want you to trace his fingerprints on each hip.”

Delaney’s eyes shoot up to me in question. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to get tattoos for my birthday.”

I’m met with stunned silence as she stands up. “Are you messing with me?”