by Robin Kaye
“A breakfast meeting? Damn.”
“I just spent an hour on the phone placating him. Do you mind telling me where the hell your head is? Because it's not here. Hell, it's not even at Premier Motors. You couldn't find Premier's file when you were looking right at it, and you've yet to comment on the new interim CFO. What's going on with you, Nick?”
“Okay… you know that woman I've been seeing?”
“Rosalie Ronaldi? Yeah, what about her?”
“You remember when I told you how I got in trouble as a kid?”
“When you and a friend got arrested for grand theft auto? How could I forget?”
Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, the friend happened to be Rosalie's big brother.”
Lois shook her head and looked as if she was about to give him hell. He might as well get the inevitable over with. He braced for it, as if he were about to pull a Band-Aid off a hairy part of his body. It was going to sting… badly. He held up his hand to stop the onslaught until he was finished. “Wait, there's more.”
“More? Spit it out, Nick.”
“She's a turnaround expert, and she's turning around Premier Motors. She's the new interim CFO.”
Lois crossed her arms over her abundant chest and gave Nick a look that had him saying Hail Marys under his breath. “You know, Nick, I thought you had your head up your ass, but now I know the truth. You can't have your head up your ass, because you are an ass. How dare you use that poor woman for your own purposes? That's just wrong in so many ways—”
“Whoa, hold on. I'm not using Lee—well, not without her consent, anyway. I didn't know she was the interim CFO. I didn't know she had anything to do with Premier Motors until Wednesday. What do you take me for?”
“A guy who'd keep his identity a secret from the woman he's sleeping with, because she'd probably never see him if she knew who he really was. I know you, Dominick Romeo. You're determined to acquire Premier Motors, and you're not above using others to forward your agenda.”
“Okay, I'll admit I've skated on the edge of propriety when it comes to business dealings, but I've never done anything illegal.”
“Last time I checked, corporate espionage was illegal, not to mention immoral. Hell, you could get Rosalie fired and blackballed. Who's going to hire a turnaround expert who gives information to the man planning a hostile takeover?”
“It's hardly hostile. I made them a very fair offer.”
“That's not the point, and you know it. You need to choose between your girlfriend and Premier Motors.”
“That's ridiculous. Rosalie is temporary, and Premier is business. I don't mix business and pleasure.”
“How's it going to look when someone finds out she's sleeping with the man intent on taking over the company she's been hired to save?”
“That's not going to happen. I'm not going to do, nor have I done, anything to hurt Premier. I simply sat back and watched Lassiter run it into the ground, all by his lonesome. I haven't done anything to hurt Lee, either, but there's little chance of her turning around Premier Motors.”
Lois looked skeptical.
“Besides, Lee and I will be history by the time I make my next offer to Lassiter, and I'll make sure she's not hurt by any of this.”
“Oh, that's right. I forgot. You're the great and powerful Oz. You control everything and everyone. You know what, Nick? Since you're so good at it, next time you sleep through a breakfast meeting and destroy a valuable client relationship, clean up your own mess. I'm finished. And if Rosalie knew who you were and what you're doing, she'd be finished, too.”
Nick had to hand it to her. Lois sure could dish it out. He'd never thought of how this might affect Rosalie, but hey, they were just sleeping together. They never talked business. Rosalie thought he was a mechanic. Why would she talk about confidential information with a mechanic? Sure, when she found out the truth, there'd be hell to pay, but until then, he was going to enjoy himself. Besides, it wasn't as if he needed to take advantage of Rosalie. He was the best in the business. What would be the fun of winning if he had to cheat to do it? Rosalie knew him well enough to know he'd never use her. Well, he hoped she did, anyway.
“Look, Lois. I promise, nothing's going to happen to Lee, so stop worrying. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“No, you haven't. But Nick, think about what you're doing.”
“I will, and Lois, thanks for covering for me today.
I'm sorry I put you in an uncomfortable situation. It's been a hard couple of weeks.” Nick checked his watch and stood, walking toward his private bathroom. “I'm on my way out. I'll be back first thing in the morning.”
“Nick, it's not even noon, and you didn't wake up until nine thirty. Aren't you even going to tell me what you're doing sleeping in your office?”
“No, I'm not.”
“Stop the buzzing, stop the buzzing! Who would come over this early in the morning?” Rosalie got out of bed and moved as quickly as she could—which she had to admit was a snail's pace—to the door, slapped the intercom button, and croaked, “What?”
“Rosalie Angelina Ronaldi, you open this door this minute, or I'm going to call your father and see what he has to say.”
She buzzed her mother in and wondered if her cough medicine had enough codeine in it to make dealing with Mama bearable. Somehow, she doubted it.
Rosalie unlocked the door before Mama started ringing that bell, too. As if her head didn't hurt enough. God, she hoped Nick had made coffee.
Dave sat next to the door and whined. “I feel your pain, buddy.”
Mrs. Ronaldi started talking even before she had the door open an inch.
“Rosalie, what is the meaning—my Lord, you look like something the cat dragged in. Can't you fix yourself up a little? It's noon, why aren't you dressed? Put some makeup on, for God's sake. What if Joey comes to see you? I told him you were sick. Such a nice boy, that Joey.” “Hi, Ma.”
“What? You couldn't call me yourself and tell me you were sick? What's wrong with you? You know better than to make me worry.”
“Sorry, I fell asleep.”
“And get that mangy mutt away from me. I'll have black hair all over my outfit.”
She took her coat off and handed it to Rosalie, who threw it on the couch. Dave, the traitor, ran into the bedroom.
“Well, at least you cleaned the apartment.”
“I did?” Rosalie looked around. She could see all the counters and tabletops. Amazing. “Um, yeah, I did.”
“I suppose you did that because Joey called and will be coming over?”
Rosalie poured two coffees and smiled to herself. Thank you, Nick. You're a prince among men—the prince of darkness, but a prince all the same.
“I don't know if Joey called, Ma, and I don't care. I don't want Joey to call; I don't want Joey to come over; and once and for all, I don't want to marry Joey. The only thing I want from Joey is for him to leave me alone.”
After sliding the coffee cup across the breakfast bar to her mother, Rosalie opened a box of biscotti and stuffed one in her mouth. When she offered the box to her mother, the woman walked into the kitchen and took out two plates. Rosalie didn't see the point of dirtying a plate. If you ate over the sink, you never had to do dishes.
“You're sick. You don't know what you're saying.”
Mama continued as she took the biscotti out of Rosalie's hand and set it on the plate.
“I'm sick, not crazy.” Though she might be hallucinating. She couldn't believe how nice her place looked. Wow. She felt like someone on that show Clean Sweep. She was dying to open a closet door but afraid it might cause an avalanche if Nick had shoved everything in there, like she always did.
“You're coming home with me, so I can take care of you.”
“No, thanks. Ma, I'm fine. Really. I feel a lot better.”
Her mother eyed the refrigerator. Oh, no. If she opened the door before Rosalie blocked it and saw there was no food, Rosalie's posit
ion as failure of the Ronaldi family was cemented for eternity. Damn. It was hard to move fast when she couldn't breathe, and her mother beat her. As the door swung open, Rosalie closed her eyes, shook her head, and prayed for divine intervention—hell, any intervention would do, she wasn't picky.
“And I thought you couldn't cook.”
“I can, too.” She opened her eyes and did another double take. The refrigerator was overflowing. And not only with beer and batteries, which would have been typical.
“I don't consider boiling pasta and heating canned sauce cooking.” Her mother quipped. “This lasagna looks homemade.”
“A friend brought it over. Look, I'm being well fed, and I'm tired. I want to sleep, so thanks for coming, Ma. I'll call you tomorrow.” She put her arm around her mother and was trying to usher her to the door when Mama turned and walked into the bedroom. Of course, she freaked when she found Dave sleeping on the bed with all fours in the air and a smile on his face—well, when his jowls flopped open like that, it looked like a smile, anyway.
“You sleep with that in your bed?”
Among other things. If she only knew…
“Get off!”
Poor Dave flew off the bed and out into the garden. Only the sound of the doggy door swinging back and forth penetrated the silence, until Rosalie heard the front door open.
“Lucy, I'm home.”
Oh, no. It wasn't only the bad Ricky Ricardo imitation that was upsetting. Things were beginning to get dark and fuzzy. She sat on her bed and considered putting her head between her knees, but she wasn't sure if that was the crash position or what one should do when feeling faint.
“Lee, do you want to eat in bed?”
From what she could see through the gray fuzz, her mother was crossing herself and doing that breast-beating thing she did when she was über-upset. Yeah. She was mumbling that prayer to the Virgin Mother again.
“Lee?”
The bedroom door swung open and there was Nick in all his glory, though he looked kinda squiggy around the edges. Maybe she'd taken too much of that cough syrup. She could never get the spoon from the bottle to her mouth without spilling it all over herself, so she improvised and took a swig or two.
She lay down, faced the wall, and groaned.
“Mama, Nick; Nick, that's my mother, Maria Ronaldi. Mama was just leaving.”
“Well, I never!”
“Yeah, Ma, I know. I'm a disappointment, a puttana, yada, yada, yada. I'll call you and give you plenty of time to yell all about it. But not now. I'm not up to it.”
Rosalie felt as if she were floating away and far below her, she heard Nick's hushed voice…
“I think you'd better go now, Mrs. Ronaldi.”
Chapter Nine
Nick eyed Rosalie's mother who, he had to admit, was a beautiful woman in an old-world way. She was a hotter, Italian version of Mrs. Cleaver, without the pearls. Damn, he hoped like hell she didn't recognize him either as Richie's long-lost friend or as Dominick Romeo.
Mrs. Ronaldi stomped into the living room and turned, bringing Nick back to the present. She wore the same expression his Nana did before she gave someone the evil eye—an Italian curse. He knew it well. He'd been on the receiving end a few times, usually by a mother who didn't want him messing with her daughter, but as far as he could tell, the curses never amounted to much more than insomnia. He'd spent more than a few sleepless nights wondering what horror would befall him. It wasn't enough to make him change his ways, but it was enough to make him want to hold a crucifix in front of him for protection.
“Who do you think you are, telling me to leave my own daughter's apartment?”
“I'm the one who spent the last week taking care of her, the one who spent nine hours pacing the damn emergency room, the one who dragged her to the best pul-monologist in the state. Who do you think you are, upsetting her? Can't you see she's sick? She has pneumonia, for Christ's sake. Lee didn't look this bad when I carried her into the hospital.”
“Lee?”
What was it about this woman that made him want to act like a caveman and pound something with a club? He settled for puffing up his chest and crossing his arms. “Yeah, Lee.”
“Rosalie never said anything about going to the hosp—”
“I can't imagine why.”
Nick spun around and plucked Mrs. Ronaldi's coat off the couch, put it on the stunned woman's shoulders, and herded her out the door.
“I'll have Lee call you when she feels better.”
Nick let out a breath of relief when he got Mrs. Ronaldi out of the building and the security door closed behind her. She hadn't recognized him. Thank God.
When Nick returned, he found Dave at the front window with his paws on the sill, growling at the retreating Mrs. Ronaldi.
“Some watchdog you are. Where were you when the battle-ax was hounding Lee?”
Nick grabbed the bag of Thai food and brought it into the bedroom.
Rosalie still had her head buried in the pillows. She uttered a muffled, “Is she gone yet?”
“Oh, yeah. She's gone all right.”
Nick sat on his side of the bed, digging through the contents of the bag. Rosalie groaned as she sat up and reached for both sets of chopsticks. She broke one set apart and rubbed them together to remove the splinters.
She looked better than she had when he'd first walked in. The death-mask look must have been from shock.
Obviously, introducing him to her mother had not been on the top of her list of things to do. Nick pushed the hair off her cheek, watched it curl around his finger, and decided not to think about why that bothered him. He pulled the silken strand down, let go, and watched it spring back while Rosalie stared at him wide-eyed.
“I told your mother you'd call when you felt better.”
Dave jumped on the bed and laid his head on Nick's knee.
Rosalie bussed a kiss on Nick's cheek. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
Rosalie set the first pair of chopsticks down while she concentrated on pulling the wrapper off the second set. “Oh, I don't know, making coffee, filling the refrigerator, straightening up the apartment. Where did you put everything, anyway?”
Nick dropped a couple of napkins on Rosalie's lap. “You know, there are these amazing things called drawers and cabinets, even closets.”
“I have a fear of closets. When I open them, something heavy falls on my head.”
Nick opened the box of pad thai and handed it to Rosalie. “No digging for shrimp this time.”
“I'm not guilty of excavation. I told you, all the shrimp were right on top. Poor shrimp distribution was not my fault.” She grabbed the first shrimp she saw and popped it in her mouth, before handing him his chopsticks.
Nick took a shrimp from the container. “The secret to proper closet usage is to hang the clothes, put the heavier things on the floor, and put the lighter things on the shelves—or invest in a cargo net.” He popped the shrimp in his mouth.
“Why didn't I think of that? Where does one buy a cargo net?”
She opened another box and dug in. “Oh, man, how did you know I love red curry and roast duck?”
“The last time I ordered it, I didn't get so much as a bite.” Nick passed her the spicy eggplant salad and grabbed the roast duck.
Rosalie ate a few bites and then opened the sticky rice with chicken. “I thought this was for Dave.”
“It is.”
“He's only supposed to eat vegetarian sticky rice.”
“Oh, come on, Lee, the boy needs real meat. It's chicken. Chicken won't hurt him.” He took the box and set it between Dave's front paws. Dave scarfed down the contents before Rosalie finished her argument. Smart dog.
“You're spoiling him. I know you gave him lasagna last night.”
“What are you complaining about? I gave you some, too.”
“No wonder Dave loves you. His emotions are driven by his stomach.”
“Maybe it's because your taste
in men has improved, which doesn't do much to recommend me. It sounds as if there was no way to go but up. Besides, I'm a loveable guy. I've never had to resort to bribery.”
Rosalie gave Nick a doubtful look. Great. His own girlfriend… or whatever Rosalie was, doubted that he was loveable. It amazed him how one look from Rosalie could make his ego feel as battered and bruised as if it'd been run over and dragged for miles by a crosstown bus.
“How'd you sleep?”
“Fine, until Mama dropped by. What a way to start the day. Awakening with my mother at the door might be a marginal step above awakening with a horse head sharing the sheets, but only because it's less messy.”
Nick swallowed hard and stared into the box of red curry and roast duck.
“Thanks for that mental picture.”
Rosalie handed him a box of pineapple fried rice, took back the duck, and looked pleased with herself.
“You did that on purpose so you could steal the duck.”
“It worked, didn't it?”
“If you wanted more, you could have asked.” “What's the fun in that?”
“Oh, and spoiling my appetite is a regular trip to Disneyland.”
“Aw, poor baby.” She took the box of rice from Nick, set it on her bedside table, and scooted closer, nudging Dave off the bed.
In less time than it took to register that he was in trouble, Nick was wading knee-deep in it. She had her arm around his waist, her breast flattened against his side, and her hand sliding down the center of his cable-knit sweater toward Old Faithful. She nibbled on his earlobe and whispered, “Feel better now?”
No, better would not be the word he'd use to describe how he felt. Horny, conflicted, frustrated—yes, those would sum it up. Nick could hear Mike laughing at him—again, not a good thing, when the object of your lust is sucking on your ear—though it did have the necessary effect on Old Faithful, which deflated almost as fast as it had inflated. Nick got up and stood at the foot of the bed. He had to get away from Rosalie or risk tossing Dr. Know-it-All's orders right out the window, along with the laugh track running rampant in Nick's head.