Page 79 of The Hitman

She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Well, hello to you, too.” She plucks a wine glass from the table, and I watch as she takes a sip.

I turn to Salvo. He grabs a water glass and takes a sip while looking at me over the rim. He gestures for me to come forward. I’m making a scene.

I try and calm myself as I walk toward them, but I can’t; I barely know what the word ‘calm’ means when I’m around Zahra.

When I’m close, Salvo places his water back onto the table. He looks up at me with amusement in his eyes. Salvo never looks amused.

“Do you know her?” he asks.

“Biblically,” Zahra mutters.

Salvo smiles. I fight my own smile. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

“Yes,” I grind out.

“We opened our doors for dinner, and she rushed in here looking for her husband.”

Zahra chokes on her wine.

I glare at Salvo because I can’t look at her. I refuse.

“Her…husband?”

“I was surprised. I didn’t realize congratulations are in order.”

“This is so embarrassing,” she mutters.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you showed up here,” I say, still refusing to look at her.

“Well, maybe if you’d given me your address or cell phone number—”

“Why would I do that? You were supposed to be on a plane back to America. That ticket wasn’t cheap.”

Zahra stands abruptly from her chair and glares up at me. “I didn’t ask for that ticket.”

“We talked about this.”

“No, we didn’t. You told me I had to go home, kissed me, and that was it.”

“Yes,” I say, trying not to scream, “that was it.”

“But that wasn’t it. I’m not done talking.”

I shake my head. “Go home.”

“No,” she spits back.

My response is cut off by the sounds of Salvo’s chair scraping against the floor. We both turn to see him crossing his legs and settling back in his seat. He motions to Massimo for a drink.

“Salvo,” I say. No, I plead. “Tell her to go home, please.”

Zahra huffs out a small annoyed breath.

Massimo places a tumbler on the table in front of Salvo, and his eyes shift between the two of us. We watch as he lifts the glass to his mouth. Before he takes a sip, he looks me in the eyes and smiles, “No.”

“Salvo. Per favore. È innocente. Lei merita di meglio di me.”

“Hey,” Zahra says, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “English.”