Salvador

Chapter 11

Mona

"Okay," Salvador says as he lies down next to me, leaning on his hand so that he can see my face "what do you want to know."

I sigh as he begins to cup my face in his hand and brush his thumb along my cheekbone softly. I could sleep like this. I close my eyes for a couple seconds then open them, he's looking right at me, our faces are dangerously close.

"Everything...Salvador."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. "I cannot believe that motherfucker texted me while I was on a date with you."

"You prefer that she texts you when you're alone?" I interrogate.

He lets out a beautiful, soft smile. "No Boba [Silly]," He whispers, pinching my cheek slightly "I haven't texted her back for around a year." He admits, amused.

I let out a small gasp. "What a crazy bitch." I whisper, he smiles sleepily.

"Do you want me to kill her?" He asks, I can't tell whether or not he's being serious. It scares me how much killing, for him, is just a chore.

I shake my head "But, if we are going to...you know," did I really just say that "would you block her?"

He brushes his hand through my hair "Of course Bonita. Already done."

He goes on to tell me almost everything about himself. Well, nothing about his work or his cartel. Some stuff about childhood, about his family. About his life and hobbies and the danger. Most of it correlates with my life and that brings me comfort. I'm starting to no longer feel alone in my pain.

"Now, meu amável [my lovely], you." He says lowly. I flinch in realisation, how am I supposed to tell him about myself?

"What about me?" I ask, innocently.

"Is there something I shouldn't know." He jokes, but I see a flicker of something harder in his eyes, does he know?

"No," I laugh it off "not that. I just don't know where to start."

He smiles, I think it might be a fake smile, and for a moment my heart beats a lot faster. I'm in danger right now, aren't I?

"Well," I say, trying to make sure my voice doesn't shake "I'm from Milan." I laugh awkwardly, he chuckles lightly.

"I've never been." He states. I want to tell him all about it, I want to tell him the beauty of it. But he's terrifying me in this moment, he knows something about me, and I pray it's not what I think it is.

His phone vibrates in his pocket suddenly and he sits up, moving his hand from my face. I exhale in relief, but at the same time I miss the warm affection.

"I have to go Bonita," he states, putting his shoes on at the edge of the bed "I'll see you tomorrow." He stands up.

In a rush, he kisses my forehead and leaves with a faint "Goodnight!" Before he closes the front door.

How can I go into work tomorrow? How can I look into those dangerous eyes again? Am I overthinking?

***