Salome’s POV
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, sliding into the leather passenger seat before he could even look my way.
Barnabas didn’t move. He didn’t turn the key or acknowledge my presence with anything more than a thick cloud of cigarette smoke that filled the cramped cabin of the Ferrari. The car was the color of a fresh wound, idling loudly against the curb of the road leading away from my new life. He looked straight ahead, his jaw looking like it was carved from granite.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered. His voice was a low, dangerous grate. “What are you doing in a place like this, Salome?”
I stared at the dashboard. “I’m living my life. You should try it sometime.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now? Sneaking around?” He finally looked at me, and his eyes were
