Page 62 of Stolen Touches

“And . . . that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s no wonder you’re surly all the time.”

His hand shoots out and grabs at my chin, tilting my head to the side until our gazes meet. “I’m surly?”

“Extremely.”

“And watching action movies from the eighties will fix that?”

“Maybe?” I smile. “Want to try?”

His gloomy gaze moves to my lips. “We can watch a movie this weekend,” he says and lets go of my chin to return to his meal.

“Are we going to do emails after lunch?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll go to check on Alessandro first.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to,” I say with my mouth full. “It’ll only take a minute, and I’ll go to the office straight after.”

“I said I’ll come.”

I lower my cutlery and sigh. “Do you think I’m going to flirt with Alessandro or something?”

“No. I don’t like the idea of you alone with another man.”

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“Probably. I still don’t want you alone with him.”

I sigh. “I find it really hard to understand you sometimes, Salvatore.”

“I know.” He picks up his glass of water and leans back in his chair, fixing me with his gaze. “I have some business toattend to tonight and won’t be home before two a.m. I need you to call me to tell me everything is okay.”

“All right. I’ll call you before I go to sleep.”

He nods, but I notice his jaw is set in a hard line as though he’s unhappy with my answer.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he says, clutching the glass in his hand as though he’s trying to break it.

“Tore?”

He sets the glass on the table, turns toward me, and squeezes the bridge of his nose. I don’t know what’s going on, but he seems unusually agitated all of a sudden. I can’t figure out why.

“I’m leaving around eight.” He looks me in the eye. “You will call me every hour while I’m not here.”

“What for?”

“To check in,” he deadpans. “So, I know everything is okay.”

I gape at him. “You want me to check in every hour? While I’m kicking back in the living room, watching a cooking show?”