by Jo Leigh
When she glanced at Dom, she was stopped short by the shocked look on his face. She had to tell him she hadn’t planned on saying anything about Valente.
“He had to be a victim,” Theresa said, making it a pronouncement, not an opinion.
“I don’t think so,” Joe said. “I heard he was a punk kid who wanted to play the big shot. He wasn’t interested in making an honest living. No one ever said exactly what he did. Just that he always had money.”
“You never told me this,” Theresa said. “In all these years.”
Joe shrugged. “It was the worst part of my family. I didn’t want you to think I was anything like him.”
“Pop,” Dom said. “Nobody would think that. You’re the most generous guy in New York.”
Joe shook his head. “I’m no saint. My family taught us to be generous. To help others. We weren’t alone. How many good people do we know? Sara’s parents are a perfect example. Back then people had nothing, and lived and worked in unthinkable conditions. So many were tempted by la Mano Nera, so who knows what really happened? Anyway, it’s ancient history.”
“Still.” Theresa got up from the table and picked up a couple of dishes. “Do you have to mention a Paladino in your report?”
“It’s not a report, Ma. It’s a master’s thesis, and it needs to be as accurate as possible. You remember how hard I worked on mine. I didn’t want to skip any steps, and Sara shouldn’t need to.”
“But your papers, they were just about marketing. This is about families.”
“Sara isn’t doing anything wrong. In fact, she wants to give everyone a chance to tell their stories. But they’re all so afraid of ruining their fairy tales.”
“Well, it’s famiglia. So you want to protect.”
“Of course,” Sara said. “I understand perfectly.”
Dom laughed, and everyone turned to him. “Protect what? You know how the old ladies like to exaggerate and spread rumors. I doubt there’s a single story that hasn’t been turned inside out at one time or another.”
His mother stared at him for a moment before her lashes lowered. “You’re right.” She walked the plates in to the kitchen, but returned to the table a moment later. “Your father’s family, our family, has nothing to be ashamed of. Dominic, I’ll get you another piece of cake.”
* * *
DOM HADN’T STEPPED in when Sara offered to help his mother with the cleanup. Not after he’d caught his father’s hint to meet him in the living room. When Dom got there, Joe was at the ancient stereo, looking through his collection of LPs.
“This research Sara’s doing,” Joe said, keeping his voice low. “It’s fine. I know she means well, but it could lead her into some tricky areas.”
“The trust.”
“We’ve made sure to keep our names buried, but there’s only so much you can hide when it comes to taxes and laws.”
“I know, Pop, but I can’t ask her to stop.”
“No. Of course not. But, it’s funny, huh? All these years, and this is the first time I’ve worried that things could get ugly.”
“Ugly?”
“It’s a long time to keep such a big secret, Dominic. People don’t like to feel like they’ve gotten charity. You know these families. They’re proud, like your mother said, and they’ll think we were playing God, that we had no right.”
“But—”
“They’ll be mad first, and maybe then, they’ll see we did it to keep our community together and safe. But just keep an eye on where she’s looking, huh?”
Dom nodded, although how he was supposed to carry his task through wasn’t clear. The last thing he wanted was to discourage Sara. This dissertation could be a breakthrough for her. And she deserved to have her triumph.
But he also had a huge responsibility to his family. To the years and struggles and promises generations of Paladinos had sworn to uphold and keep secret. Maybe it was for the best that he was more involved with the trust.
“There you are,” Sara said, as she joined them at the stereo. He smiled, holding out his arm, wanting more than ever to support her dreams, and to keep her close.
* * *
“OH, DOM, DON’T STOP.” Sara had her hand in his hair, trying not to pull too hard, but she didn’t have much control left. The last hour had been a long, sweet seduction, from the first kiss in the elevator, to the way he’d stripped off her clothes, kissing her and licking her in places she’d never dreamed were so sensitive.
“I don’t want this to end,” he said, his words barely audible as he kept his lips pressed to her neck. He pulled back, achingly slowly, leaving her wanting, pushing up, locking her ankles around his hips.
His groan went straight through her, as if his voice had a direct line to her pleasure centers. “I think your voice is actually killing me.”
“Oh, no, not that. Never that,” he said, proving her point with his low pitch and the way he nibbled her ear as he entered her again. “You feel so good.”
Hot breath wafted over her cheek, then his lips found hers, making her dizzy and needy, wanting more than she’d ever dared.
As he withdrew, he pushed up on his arms, so he could look down at her, his eyes half-closed and dark. “I can’t,” he whispered, as he entered her again, faster this time. Harder.
“Can’t what?” Her hand moved down to his nape, hot and damp with sweat.
“Not want you.” His gaze caught her, forced her to keep her own eyes open.
His rhythm changed, speeding up with each thrust.
“Don’t stop,” she said, meaning so much more.
The look of him, the way he stretched his head back, the tension in his body—she wanted to see this, keep her eyes open. Watch him fall apart. When it hit, his climax swept him away and shredded the last of her control. She came like a rocket, like a starburst.
When she slid back down to earth, it had all changed. Even though she knew it was impossible, that their end was inevitable, she’d fallen for Dominic.
So damn hard.
* * *
“SARA?”
“Hmm?”
Dom was curled around her, their legs entwined, his heart almost back to normal.
“Why didn’t you mention Valente Paladino to me?”
“Oh, Dom, I’m so sorry,” she said stiffening, and trying to move away. “I should’ve—”
“What you should do is stay right here,” he said, holding her and stroking her back until he felt her relax a little.
“To be honest, I was hoping he wasn’t related. But I’d also decided I wasn’t going to use his name or bring him up at all. And then it kind of slipped. I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He had no business feeling slighted because she’d kept something from him. The weight of his own secret was heavier than he’d have imagined. There were layers between the Paladinos and the ownership records. Shell companies, mostly. The lawyers were careful, and the odds were she wouldn’t find anything. But he wished he could be open with her.
Everything was different with Sara, and he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there in such a short time. He’d always held himself back, determined to keep his options wide-open. But sticking around didn’t seem restrictive anymore. “I hope you know I would never ask you to leave out his name.”
She nodded.
“So, how about you stay overnight?”
She ran her delicate fingers over his cheekbone. “You want that, huh?”
“To wake up to you? Yeah. I want that.”
After a long, piercing look, she smiled. “I want that, too.”
20
DOM SAT ALONE in Bassanova Ramen, staring at his favorite dish. The lunch crowd was noisy—the people right in back of him were slurping just loudly enough to put him on ed
ge. He was pretty sure he’d just screwed up his third interview with New York Adventures.
Problem was, his mind had been a mess in the week since the dinner with his folks. He worried that Sara might uncover something that would require him to step in, which he couldn’t imagine himself doing. And he worried about disappointing his family.
On the one hand, he loved seeing her in her true element. The research brought her alive. She’d even discovered a number of people, mostly those who’d already left the Lower East Side, willing to talk to her about the Black Hand. Some wanted their names changed, some wanted their names spelled correctly and a few lonely souls just wanted someone to talk to.
But on the other hand—
His cell rang with his father’s tone. “Hey, give me two minutes. I can’t hear you where I am.”
“Call me back,” Joe said.
After Dom paid for his to-go meal and left the restaurant, he walked the few blocks to Columbus Park and found a relatively quiet spot.
His father answered immediately. “Did you talk to the lawyer?”
“Yeah. He’s working on it, but it’s even more complicated than I thought. It’s going to take some time to separate the trust and retain the rental agreements. Your will needs some alterations, too. The foundation paperwork still has to be ironed out. He’s meeting with Max to talk about what the change is going to do to our taxes.” Dom paused. Max had been their accountant for years. But he was getting up there and Dom didn’t share his dad’s confidence in the man. Better save that for later. “Anyway, we also have to talk about what to do with the management company and their contract.”
“In the meantime?”
Dom rubbed his neck. He figured this call was more about what was happening with Sara. “So far so good, Sara’s been concentrating on the Black Hand and hasn’t stumbled onto anything that could hurt us.” Yet. “I’ve either seen her or talked to her every night. I’ll keep tabs but I think we might be worried for nothing.”
“I trust you’ll steer her in the right direction. Anyway, your mother’s calling. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay, Pop.” After he hung up, he dialed Sara.
“Hi,” she said, as if she’d just finished a run. “Are you at lunch?”
“You sound busy.”
“It’s packed in here. Are you still planning on meeting me at the library tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. I might be a few minutes late. Sorry, I’ve got to scramble.”
They disconnected and he just sat there watching his food get colder. And wishing he could shake the feeling this whole thing was going to turn into a big mess.
* * *
SARA BLEW INTO the research room, already slinging off her overstuffed backpack while grinning at Dom. He stood, grabbing the pack and helping her unload the notebooks he knew she’d need for this evening. The plan was to work until closing, then go back to his place. Now, all he had to do was calm himself down, starting with a kiss.
It helped.
When they finally sat, she asked, “How did your interview go?”
“Not sure,” he said. “The guy in charge of marketing kept asking me about my experience with events, but the woman from PR kept reminding him of all the public speaking I’ve done. Maybe a wash?”
“Better than getting kicked out the door.”
“That’s true. You sounded like you were having a hell of a day.”
Someone from a few tables away gave them a wicked “Quiet,” and they both winced.
“I’ve been crazy busy,” Sara said, her voice much lower, “but I also discovered something mighty interesting.” She grabbed her notebook and flipped through a bunch of pages. “Something odd happened around 1916. There’s a report in one of the smaller papers that said that some of the tenements that had made improvements based on the New Tenement Act of 1901 were charging less than some of the buildings that hadn’t been redone. They all seemed to be centered around the Little Italy area. I wondered if that was some kind of deal, you know, with the Black Hand. Maybe those people who cooperated, or paid the extra money to them, somehow got lower rents.”
Dom’s pulse had started racing after mention of the Tenement House Act—1916 was when the trust was first started, and those low rents were absolutely connected to the Paladino family.
“But tracing ownership to any of these buildings before 1936 is a quagmire. Lots of hiding behind company names that didn’t seem to exist. Anyway, it wasn’t the state setting these low rents, but that’s all I could confirm.”
“That’s actually getting into some dangerous territory,” he said. “I’m sure you know how no one likes talking about rent prices.”
“Yeah. It’s a forbidden topic, right up there with incest or rooting for the Yankees.”
He smiled, although he wasn’t finding anything amusing at the moment. “I know it probably goes against the grain, but I can’t help thinking digging into this could be really tricky. Can you imagine what would happen if something you brought to light caused a bunch of rent hikes?”
* * *
SARA SAT BACK, thinking about what he’d said. The only reason Moretti’s was still in business was because of the lower rent. The same went for her parents’ house. Dom wasn’t kidding. Stirring the pot about that could be really bad.
The crux of the matter was whether or not the information was crucial to revealing the truth about the Black Hand. She had no idea if the two things were connected. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s tricky. And it could be that the rents don’t have anything to do with anything. But I do want to find out what I can. I’ll just have to be careful where I look, and who I mention it to. Obviously, I trust you not to say anything.”
Dom nodded, but she could see he wasn’t pleased with her solution. “Tell you what,” he said. “Why don’t you let me look into that? We’ll keep your name out of it since you don’t need any more black marks against you.”
“But—but you don’t have time.”
“Neither do you.”
Every time she thought he couldn’t be any more amazing, he did or said something like this. Sara leaned close to him and pulled his hand into hers. “I can’t even tell you how much your support means to me. You’ve been wonderful, and I know you don’t have the time to spare. You must be waking up at the crack of dawn to get everything done. But every minute you’re with me has been a boost to my confidence, not to mention the fact that you make me just plain happy. Please don’t think I’m not taking your advice seriously. I am. I’ll be careful.”
She kissed him and couldn’t help noticing a slight hesitancy. Maybe she needed to think about his offer some more. She trusted him. And she knew he only had her best interest at heart.
After the library closed, they stopped at the neighborhood market so he could pick up some things he needed. They’d talked and talked, not about her work, but about Ellie’s ongoing search for a prom dress. She’d been asked out by a very good-looking boy and it seemed that her attention had shifted away from Dom.
As they left the store, Mrs. Masucci, a woman who lived at the edge of Little Italy, and a notorious gossip, stepped right in front of Sara.
“Don’t think we all don’t know what you’re trying to do Sarafina Moretti. You think you can get away with tearing our families to shreds by telling your lies? You think we can’t see you trying to make us look like thieves? Just because we’re Italian doesn’t make us the Mafia, and you’re shaming yourself, your family and the whole community.” The woman looked as if she was going to spit, and Sara took a step back, stunned by the vicious attack.
Dom, however, stepped right into the old woman’s face. “What the hell do you know about anything she’s doing? All you live for is your gossip without any thought to who you’re hurting. You did it to Catherine and n
ow you’re after Sara. If I hear one more lie coming from you, I’m going to call my attorney and we’ll see how your rumors stand up in court. Do I make myself clear?”
Mrs. Masucci looked as though she might actually die on the spot. Sara was tempted to dash behind her in case she fainted, but she was too busy being stunned by Dom’s fierce defense.
“Madre di Dio,” Mrs. Masucci said, her voice wavering. But she wasn’t looking at Dom. “You. You strega. You witch. You’ve turned him into a monster with your talk and your curses.” She lifted a wrinkled hand, holding up her index and pinky fingers—the mano-cummta—to ward off curses. Then, without turning her back, she scurried past them, muttering the Rosary.
Sara burst out laughing. “What the hell just happened?”
Dom didn’t join in on the hilarity. “Shit. I may have just made things worse for you.”
“Hey,” she said, rubbing his arm. “At least it was you this time, instead of me. Don’t worry about it. She’s a wicked gossip who was already lying about me. This won’t make it any worse.”
He started walking again, only this time to the curb to flag down a cab. Apparently he wasn’t in the mood for a long stroll anymore. The look on his face silenced her.
“Dom,” she said, once they were in the quiet of the taxi, “if you think it would be better to keep your distance from me, I’ll understand. You have a lot going on now, and I’d hate myself if any part of this hurt you or your family.”
His gentle smile eased her. “Don’t be ridiculous. Although I’ll do my best not to look like I’ve been cursed—” he leaned in close “—I can’t promise I won’t seem bewitched.”
* * *
HE WAS BONE WEARY, and he really needed to rest. Especially after the way they’d made love. Being curled around Sara usually made him calm like nothing else. Not tonight. She was going to find out about the trust; he just knew it. And when she did, he had no idea what he would do about it. If he asked her to back off, he’d never be able to look himself in the mirror again.
* * *
“I’LL HAVE THE apple pie.”