Chapter 12

Adriana worked the edges of the room the way she always did, all soft laughter and delicate little gestures meant to draw his eye, her hand lifting to touch his sleeve, her chin tilting toward the candlelight. But Salvatore did not so much as glance at her. His attention was fixed on me, and the frustration of a man watching something slip through his fingers was written plainly across his face, no matter how many times he tugged at his collar to loosen it.