If she could get that security guy alone, he could probably tell her all about the DeGrazias. She knew how to get men to talk…She put her other hand over her mouth. Sick, that was wrong thinking. That wasn’t her. She’d felt most herself in those intimate moments with Vincente. Probably all lies—she didn’t know herself at all.
“Gina,” Mom said.
Gina shook her head and ran, following the path her father had gone. A few tears coursed down her cheeks as she shut the front door behind her. She needed to rediscover the truth about herself, and learn what was real. Her family going to church every Sunday, laughing together over Sunday dinner, working together in the market, her grandparents taking them to the park so Mom and Dad could have a date…Those always-abiding things—love, faith—her family had taught her, what they used to believe in.
***
Gina walked aimlessly. She’d forgotten her purse, so she couldn’t do anything but window shop, walk, and think. As she approached the Financial District, the TransAmerica pyramid looming in the distance, she turned to head back toward home. Her feet ached in her cream-colored wedge sandals. She wasn’t used to so much walking anymore—in L.A., people drove everywhere. The only walking she’d done had been barefoot on the beach. What she needed was a wardrobe change.
A familiar-looking man walked out from the building ahead of her. Just when she was thinking of wardrobes…
“Paolo!” Gina called, surprised by the excitement in her tone. Her cousin Janetta’s best friend since high school, Paolo had won Gina’s affection with his quick wit and willingness to make over her awkward thirteen-year-old self. He’d kept it with his wisdom, loyalty, and kindness. He turned and scanned the sidewalk.
Gina smiled and strode to him. She did a little model turn.
“Oh my God, Gina D’Angelo!” He pulled her into a hug then held her at arm’s length. “I see you’re still following my fashion advice.” He smiled, his thin face as animated as his waving hands. “At least someone in your family still listens to me.” He winked.
Gina laughed. “And look at you—still fabulous.” He was rocking an Armani suit. “What are you doing down here? Don’t you still work at Nordstrom?”
“Uh-huh. I met Janetta for lunch. She works in an office here.”
Paolo knew almost all their family secrets. Probably he knew the DeGrazias’ secrets too. Gina slid her arm into his. They strolled forward.
“You must know the DeGrazias pretty well.”
He eyed her. “I do. And between your family and theirs, I’ve seen more drama than on General Hospital. My family is positively boring in comparison.” He chuckled.
“So, are they all Sonny Corinthos, or Jasper Jax?” She tried to sound teasing by mentioning the characters they’d drooled over in high school, one a mobster, the other an upstanding businessman, but she needed to know—were the DeGrazias corrupt, or not?
“Nothing is simple.” Paolo stopped, edging them out of the middle of the sidewalk. “Even those characters have shades of grey. From what I know, their businesses are all legit. And they’re good people. Why? What’s going on?”
Gina blew out a breath. Paolo she could trust. He was like a member of the family, had been for probably fifteen years now. And he had no hidden agendas. Gina reached down to fiddle with her sandal strap.
“How long have you been walking in those?”
Gina straightened and glanced at her watch. “Almost an hour.”
“You come back to my office.” He pulled her forward. “We’ll talk, and then we can consult on the latest fashions.”
“You know how to treat a girl.” Gina kissed his cheek.
He laughed. “’Cause we have so much in common.” He winked and flagged a cab.
They hopped in. Gina relaxed in the seat. This would be a conversation to look forward to.
***
Gina crossed her legs, settled in one of the sleek chairs across from Paolo’s desk. Paolo was wrapping up a phone call that had come in once they’d reached his office. His focus and sharp business acumen had helped him reach the top of his profession at only thirty—and he’d managed to get his M.B.A. as well.
Gina admired that kind of drive. She’d tried to emulate it, in her career and personal life. But it hadn’t worked for her. She lacked Paolo’s balance, his wisdom too, probably. Now she was more interested in her family’s business and getting to a place where she could start her own family than in rising in the corporate world.
Paolo hung up the phone. He stood and held out a hand, motioning her to the couch opposite his desk. A glass and metal coffee table, loaded with magazines, was in front of the cushy, yet modern, sofa. Gina rose and joined him. She slid off her shoes and tucked her feet under her. Paolo crossed his legs and faced her.
“Okay, spill it, Miss Thang.”
“Basically, my dad and I don’t trust the DeGrazias.”
“Nothing new there. Though I know I’m missing part of the puzzle.” He scrutinized her, as only Paolo could.
“I think they’re trying to hijack my family—and our business.” Gina’s ears burned as the words came out of her mouth. Her anger wasn’t as fierce anymore, and she’d begun questioning whether her plans were going to get her what she really wanted: to save her family business, and by extension, her family.
Paolo shook his head. “Aww, honey, they aren’t. First, it’s not like they need the money, or another business to run. And haven’t you seen Enzo and Celeste? He worships the ground she walks on. She loves him, but she knows him, and she’d spot any b.s. from around the corner. As for the rest of them…Vincente’s got his grandpop on the right path now—I’d stake my rep on it.”
“How can you say that?”
“Vincente’s the best of them. He’s really a great guy. Not my favorite, mind you, cause he can be a little…staid. But, you won’t find a more reliable, loyal, basically good man around. As my mom says, he’s buono come il pane—as good as bread. Solid, sustaining…you don’t find many like that. Except maybe my Marco.” Paolo beamed a smile.
Gina’s body warmed at his confirmation of her feeling about Vincente. Paolo was an awesome judge of character. He’d steered her away from all the crap boys in high school—until he and Janetta had gone away to college.
“Marco?” Gina leaned forward. Her smile reflected Paolo’s. She was so glad he’d found someone.
“He’s the chef at Sal’s. We’ve been seeing each other for six months now. Much as I love to gush about him, let’s finish this first.”
“I want to hear about him,” Gina said with a little pout.
“Miss, that doesn’t work on me. And don’t try it on Vincente, either. He sees through that.”
Gina almost nodded. She rubbed her cheek. He was right. Vincente didn’t fall for her little tricks like other men did.
Paolo tilted his head. “Anyway, you should talk to Vincente. He knows all the family business. So does Lorenzo, but he’s on vacation with his best friend, Lee. But they’ll be back for Enzo and Celeste’s wedding.”
She wouldn’t trust Lorenzo anyway. “I need to resolve this before that. It’s tearing my family apart. Dad’s talking about selling, moving away.” Her back stiffened.
“What?” Paolo shook his head. “Those D’Angelo men. Too proud for their own damn good. Take my advice—work with Vincente. Get your dad to accept Enzo’s help. It’s for Celeste, really. They both love her. We all do. She and your grandpa took me in, defended me, reconciled me with my family.” When Paolo had come out in high school, his family’d thrown him out of the house.
Gina nodded. She knew what Paolo said made sense, if she could believe what he said about Vincente and Enzo was true. But, work with Vincente? After the mess she’d made with him, telling him they couldn’t see each other anymore? He’d think she was trying to pull something. She rubbed her thighs, the muscles taut. “Thanks. Now tell me all about Marco.” She grinned.
Paolo leaned in and began a flow of words. She exhaled
, letting worries swirl out. Hope floated in, loosening her back and legs. Joy in Paolo’s happiness joined it. She had seen for herself that Vincente was a lot like what Paolo described his boyfriend to be: loyal, kind, straightforward when he needed to be, devoted to his family. She needed to trust her impressions of him. And take a leap of faith. She’d trusted Vincente with her body—could she trust him with her secrets?
Chapter Eight
“Grandpop?” Vincente called from the kitchen. Grandpop’s sitting room door was closed, but the steady drone of the TV sounded from inside. Marcella had left dinner in the small slow cooker for Vincente. It was one of hers and Rudy’s nights off.
Vincente knocked on the door.
“Enter,” Grandpop said. He’d muted the TV—the six o’clock news.
“Have you eaten?” Sometimes Grandpop got in dark moods and didn’t take care of himself.
“Sí.” Grandpop stared at the TV.
Vincente tensed. Grandpop had lapsed into Italian. Not good. “I’m gonna go eat. How about a walk later?”
Grandpop waved a hand and unmuted the TV. Vincente turned and walked back into the kitchen. He ladled out some minestrone soup and sat at the table. The hot soup was filling, but the empty pit in his stomach was unaffected. He ran a hand along the old wood table. Some of that semolina bread Gina’d made yesterday at Uncle Enzo’s would be perfect with this soup.
He pushed the bowl forward and ran a hand over his hair. Not even ten minutes had gone by since he’d last thought of Gina. He shrugged and cleared his bowl, sticking it in the dishwasher.
The doorbell rang. It was rare for anyone to come to the front door. “I’ll get it, Nico,” he shouted to the room off the kitchen which was Nico’s office and surveillance room. He jogged into the front hall and looked through the peephole. Gina. His heart jack-hammered double-time. He checked again, trying to see if she looked angry. She smoothed her hair and bit her lip. Not angry, but nervous-looking.
He opened the door. Words failed him. She’d changed since this morning—and not just her clothes. As she walked in, her step was lighter, more fluid. Her red skirt breezed over her long legs, a tight white tee molded to her round breasts, with a fitted navy blazer over it, on which her silky hair cascaded. Damn, he was staring. He swallowed. Luckily, she’d stepped in and was peering down the hall.
“Can we talk, in private?” she said, still focused on the hall.
He closed his eyes, to keep from zeroing in on her ass.
“Uh, sure.” He stepped forward and ushered her into the study, shutting the door. The masculine, sparse room might help him stay cool, focused—on something other than the crackle Gina’s presence sent through him.
Gina set down her purse and sat on the sofa. Vincente slid into a wing chair near her, but not too close. She gave him a nervous little half-smile and chafed her hands.
“Cold? Want a cup of coffee?” He needed to do something.
She shook her head. “There’s this engagement party…”
“I just heard today,” he said. “You going?”
“I am. But my dad…Look, he doesn’t like your family.”
Vincente stilled. At least she was being honest, even if he didn’t like hearing this—it wasn’t a surprise.
“I guess he doesn’t make it a secret. We had a family meeting earlier. He doesn’t want to accept the help…I mean, did you know your Uncle Enzo offered to help put up the money to save D’Angelo’s Market?”
“Yeah. My family has meetings too. The market is an important part of the neighborhood. Everyone in my family has memories of it. None of us wants to see it go. But Uncle Enzo, he’s doing it for Celeste. I don’t need to tell you how much keeping your grandfather’s legacy alive means to her.”
She shook her head. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I thought…” She cleared her throat, as if to choke back the tears. “Your words mean a lot.” There was a note of disbelief in her voice. You didn’t go from complete mistrust to belief in a day.
“If I mean them?”
She glanced at her knees, fingering the hem of her skirt. He moved next to her and took her hand. It was soft and warm. He caressed her ring finger. That ring Grandpop had given him would look so pretty on her slender finger. A warm feeling welled in his chest. How would it feel to slide it on, how would she look at him…He squeezed her hand, trying to crush these crazy thoughts from his mind. He had decided they weren’t for each other. He was just ready for a relationship. But not with her. Or was that the self-delusion?
“I—we all want to help your family,” he said. “Whatever’s happened in the past, let’s keep it there. No one’s trying to hurt your family.”
“How can we convince my dad?”
“Together, we will. But I need to know why you’d distrust us so much. It can’t just be our reputation.” He caressed her fingers. His chest felt heavy. He’d have to tell her about his past. But now wasn’t the time.
She shook her head and scooted closer, her knees touching his. “I’m going to trust you with this, something I’m not supposed to tell anyone.” He squeezed her hand, to assure her that he was listening, that he was worthy of her trust. “When I was fifteen, Grandpa Frank died. By then, you’d moved back to New York, right?”
He nodded and turned her hand in his. Her hand was smooth and warm, her delicate fingers asking to be kissed, every inch of her cherished. He focused on her face, the sadness in her tone. She needed to be heard, and he would listen.
“My uncle had died about a year before, and there had been some family drama. My dad started disappearing for a day here, a night there. Grandma Celeste moved in with us from the upstairs flat. We needed to rent it out, and it was hard for her to be alone. Mom was struggling—we couldn’t afford help, and Michael was still too young, and Frankie…When Dad would leave, I’d have to be there. I got behind in school. Then he left. One day, I saw him come out of a building downtown. I followed him. He went to Carolina’s. She must’ve been home alone, but they couldn’t even wait to go inside before they were all over each other.”
A sour look twisted Gina’s features. Vincente placed his other hand over hers, cradling her hand.
“I snuck around to the window. I watched for as long as I could stomach it…Anger took over. I pounded on the door. Carolina answered, cool as can be. When I tried to tell her to leave my family alone, she laughed. Then she pulled me to her office. Finally, Dad showed himself. She had pictures of them, incriminating letters that made it look like Dad had been stalking her. She made us sign a document promising we’d never tell or she’d ruin him, my family.”
Hot acid rose in Vincente’s throat. That someone in his own family would treat anyone that way, much less someone in a family bound to theirs through marriage…And hurt an innocent teenage girl, as Gina must have been…He shook his head.
“I’m sorry you went through that,” he said. He caressed Gina’s cheek. She leaned into his touch. Her scent, clean and enticing, drew him to her. His lips, so close to hers, tingled with her heat and proximity. The intercom crackled to life. Gina sucked in a breath and scooted away. Vincente clenched his jaw.
“Mr. D. wants you to meet him in his office,” Nico said. “Her too.”
What the hell? The room, like all the downstairs, was wired and outfitted with security cameras. This wasn’t necessary anymore, but Grandpop had insisted on keeping the same level of security because they still sometimes had meetings—and the occasional threat—from former business associates. But, it was an unspoken rule that he and Grandpop respected each other’s privacy. The acid that had been in Vincente’s throat burned through him, to his stomach, out his legs, searing him with anger. He clenched his hands.
Gina hopped up and scanned the room. “This room is under surveillance?” her voice rose with each syllable. “Did you know about this?”
“No. Yes, the room is wired, but—”
“But? No. No, this is not happening. Do you have video of us?” She pushed her
hands against her eyes then placed them on her stomach, as if she was going to be sick. She walked to the door.
He grabbed her, not wanting her to leave.
“Let go of me.” She wriggled and pushed at him.
“No. I didn’t know.” He pulled her to him. “I’ve never lied to you. My room isn’t wired.”
Her chest heaved against him. “You didn’t know your own house is wired?”
He growled. “Don’t be so….” He held her arm, taking it as if they were going for a stroll on the beach, only he made sure his grip was tight. Walking toward the door, his mind spun with how to do damage control. “We never use it to listen in on private conversations.”
Gina laughed, a bitter chuckle. “Is this supposed to reassure me?”
His arm tensed as he tugged open the door. “Grandpop will tell you—Nico—”
“Why should I believe them? Now he’ll tell Carolina and she’ll…” Her voice thickened, as if she spoke through choked tears and hatred.
His stomach clenched. She had to believe him. “No. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
She glanced at him. He met her gaze for a moment. He could spend a lifetime looking at her. Her sadness was replaced by an angry grimace. She wouldn’t let him, now. He had to steel himself for the coming argument. They walked down the hall, around the corner, to the door of Grandpop’s office, on the other end of his suite of rooms. Vincente knocked and entered without waiting for a summons.
Grandpop sat behind his antique mahogany desk. He waited, as if for them to sit, but Vincente wouldn’t let go of Gina, so he stood still next to one of the two leather chairs in front of the desk.
“Why were you listening to a private conversation?” Vincente ground out.
Grandpop waved a hand. “Why is this girl spreading such a tale about my daughter?”
“It’s not a ‘tale,’” Gina said.
Always (San Francisco Brides Series Book 1) Page 8