Send me a flower in the spring breeze

I'd been with Sal Demarco for six years. Then, on my birthday, he brought home a girl. He was covered in blood, and this delicate little thing was tucked into his side. From that day on, Sal, who’d spoiled me rotten, never looked at me twice. Everyone thought I was heartbroken, pining for a love I couldn’t have. I just smiled and fiddled with the watch on my wrist. I was an undercover cop, deep in Jersey’s biggest crime family. I’d been playing the long game, waiting for the perfect moment to put him away. Love him? Hardly.

1. The house was blazing with lights, even though it was almost midnight. I sat on the couch, relighting the candles on the cake for the tenth time.

“C’mon, Liv, don’t wait up.” One of Sal's guys, Frankie, looked at me with a mix of pity and awkwardness. “Sal said…he ain’t coming.”

The lighter clicked in my hand, a tiny flame flaring and dying, flaring and dying. I stared at it, my face impassive. "He’ll come. He promised he’d be here for my birthday. He wouldn’t stand me up."

Yeah, right. The clock on the wall inched toward 3:00 AM. He wasn’t coming. And here I was, playing hostess to a room full of Sal’s goons. They thought I was waiting for a birthday celebration. Anyone else would think I was hosting a mob summit.

Finally, just before the clock struck four, the roar of an engine echoed from the driveway.

"Liv! Sal’s back!" Frankie practically yelled, barreling up the stairs.

I stood up, walked to the landing, and looked down. Yeah, he was back, alright. Blood soaked through his shirt. And nestled against him, pale and wide-eyed, was the girl. My jaw tightened. "Sal," I called down, my voice sharp, "who is that?"

2. Sal had a long, nasty cut that ran from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. It was still bleeding freely. Somehow, it just made him look more dangerous, more…alluring. I reached for the first aid kit, dabbing at the wound with gauze, but he grabbed my wrist.

"Livia, have I been too soft on you?" His thumb traced circles on my skin, a gentle caress that held a hidden threat. Sal always had a way of delivering menace wrapped in tenderness.

I looked down, my expression neutral. “Soft? Not really.”

He chuckled, his fingers moving to my pulse point. "Is that so? Then what's with the welcoming committee downstairs? Makes me look like I'm running some kind of…gang."

Like he wasn't. He'd clawed his way to the top, one bloody knuckle at a time. Now he was a "respected businessman," all his dirty laundry neatly tucked away. The newspapers ate it up. Young entrepreneur, they called him. It made me sick.

"Who's the girl?" I asked again, subtly twisting my wrist free. He didn't answer, his gaze shifting away from mine.

"None of your business," he said, taking the gauze from my hand and pressing it to the cut. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "So worried about who I bring home…not so worried about how I got hurt." He nipped at my neck, a playful bite that held a hint of punishment. "...