Ten minutes ago, when he introduced himself as "just my boss," his expression had been flawless. Professional. Composed. Distant in exactly the right way. There had been just enough concern in his voice to make it believable.
But not even a trace of guilt.
Right before I lost consciousness, I had seen everything clearly.
The car.
Salvatore in the passenger seat.
And the girl he had just kissed. She was the one behind the wheel.
He hadn't given me a chance to question him. Not even a single second. He had simply brushed it off, thrown out an excuse about the Family being too busy, and left as if I had imagined the entire thing.
At the time, I thought he was avoiding me because he didn't know how to face me after hitting me with the car.
But the truth was even more pathetic than that.
I didn't matter enough to him.
Not even enough for him to feel guilty.
Still a little dizzy, I forced a polite smile onto my face, as if everything was perfectly normal.
"Guess I was still a bit foggy when I woke up," I said lightly. "Didn't recognize you, boss."
The word slipped out naturally, but it carried none of the warmth it used to.
He barely reacted. The lighter kept moving over his knuckles, steady as a heartbeat.
And I kept going along with it, as if this distance between us had always existed. As if there had never been anything more.
He finally looked at me again, his brows drawing together slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes.
The girl who used to cling to him over the smallest things, who would demand hugs and kisses over something as trivial as a paper cut, was gone.
In her place was someone quiet.
Still.
Unreachable.
Salvatore glanced around the room, making sure no one else was there. Even in a clinic that answered only to his Family, old habits held. Only then did his expression soften a fraction, his voice dropping lower.
"Elena," he said, almost gently, "these places are full of people. And whispers travel." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We can't risk anyone seeing us like this."
Like this.
What we were had to stay hidden. Even now. Omertà didn't just govern secrets about blood and money. It governed me.
"Just rest," he continued. "Focus on recovering. Once you're home, I'll make it up to you."
I looked at him, then gave a small, composed smile.
"Thank you… boss."