Baby V (Chianti Kisses #1)

by Tara Oakes

“And tell John to stop having other people do his dirty work for him.”

  Dom remains silent for a minute, as if digesting the information I had just given him.

  “Look, V... as CEO, I help handpick interns and new hires all the time. With your GPA, extra curricular activities and educational background, I would hire you on the spot... regardless of your last name. You have plenty to offer us. Don’t fool yourself, or use that as a cop-out excuse either. I don’t always agree with John... but on this, I do. I have something a little different in mind than just throwing you in an office and giving you a random title just to get you on the payroll,” he looks over to see if I am paying attention. “Hear me out... I think you’ll be interested.”

  The black SUV pulls in front of a tall brownstone in Central Park West.

  “Wake up sis, you’re home. You can go sleep in your own bed,” Dom’s words seems to do the trick.

  Theresa sits up, all sleepy-eyed and stretches her arms before kissing me on my cheek and sliding through the door being held open by Dom.

  “Call me later, V,” she calls back.

  The doorman helps Dom take his sister’s suitcase out of the back, carrying it for her. She turns to her brother, gives him a strong hug, and kisses him on the cheek before disappearing into the hundred year old building. Back in his seat, Dom looks at me before turning on his signal to rejoin traffic.

  “We’ll talk about it tonight. Let me make my case, OK? I know you pretty well... better than John, I think. I guarantee you, it’s something that you’ll love.”

  Damn him. He is going to throw a monkey wrench in my plan, I just know it. It is no wonder he can practically hypnotize girls with his suave confidence. He makes you want to trust him, want to prove him right. Well, we’ll see.

  As the Range Rover pulls out to speed away from Theresa’s, Dom suddenly has to multi-task the oncoming city traffic with answering the incoming call through the car speakers. He recognizes the phone number flashing across the large built-in dashboard screen and speaks to his imaginary telephone.

  “Christopher... you’re on speaker, and I’m not alone.”

  This Christopher person must be a very straight-laced and uptight person, or at least I imagine him to be as I form a mental picture to go with the deep voice and business nature of his tone.

  “Mr. D, the investigators have finished their report. I’m forwarding a copy to the insurance company along with our appraisals. It was a heavy hit. Stanson is still in ICU, his doctors don’t see him improving enough to be moved until the end of the week.”

  The news must be somewhat what Dom was expecting, as I don’t register any shock or confusion in his expression. He simply holds the wheel with his left hand while resting his right elbow on the arm rest, supporting the weight of his chin with his fingers.

  “And what about his wife? Did you inform her of the arrangements? The last thing the guy needs right now is to worry about his family, Christopher. I want it all taken care of. Let her know I’ll personally stop by tomorrow to thank him. Send a copy of the report through a secure server to my home office. Send one to John, too.”

  What the hell is this about? Who is Stanson, why is he in the hospital, and why does Dom need to thank him? I try to read Dom’s face for any hint of information, while Christopher’s voice echoes to him.

  “Mrs. Stanson has been brought up to speed and is very grateful for everything. I’ll send you the copy as well as Mr. Lombardi. Is there anything else you need?”

  Dom lifts off of his elbow and raises his hand, removing his baseball cap to run his fingers through his thick hair while exhaling slowly.

  “No. That should be all. Thanks for pulling this off so quickly. I’ll see you in the conference room, eight AM sharp,” he abruptly disconnects the call using the buttons on his steering wheel. Maybe now I can get some answers. Before I can even begin to form a question, he has another button pressed and the speaker is ringing. Two rings in, and John answers out.

  “Talk to me. You guys home yet?

  “Almost. Christopher is sending you his report,” Dom informs him. “Read through it and call me back after you finish. I emailed everyone to be ready for an early meeting at the main office to deal with this. Have you heard anything from your contacts? Any noise over in Jersey?”

  If I was confused before, I was certainly lost now. I usually hate hearing them talk business around me. It’s all gibberish to me, and usually boring... but this time my curiosity is getting the better of me. What kind of noise would come out of New Jersey? I hope John will shed some light on this as I wait for him to respond to Dom’s question, on pins and needles.

  “I’ll call you later, at home. So... V. How’s the hangover? Did you two talk?”

  I choose to ignore the latter part of is question. I’m not getting into this again. “Don’t know what you’re talking about big brother. I feel great, thanks.”

  After a few awkward seconds, he must realize that I have no intention of appeasing him with the answers he is looking for, so he beats around the bush some more, “Well, I hope you’re not starting a new trend with your behavior last night. It’s time to grow up, V. We need to-”

  I cut him off quickly, sensing the direction he’s about to take, “What’s that John?... John... You’re breaking up,” I speak to the dashboard as I lean over Dom and hit the red button on the steering wheel.

  Dom looks amused, but only shakes his head back and forth. “You know he’s only going to call back, V.”

  I squint my eyes.

  “Answer it and I’ll kill you,” I scowl to him. Sure enough, the ringing starts and we both look to each other and laugh.

  ~*~

  We pull up to the guard house just as the sun is starting to set. The man inside snaps up as Dom lets down the driver’s side window.

  “Evening, Mr. D. Welcome home,” he blurts out as he presses a button and the main gate starts to hum with electricity while opening. He sees me looking at him over Dom’s shoulder and waves. “Evening Miss Lombardi. Congratulations, and welcome home.”

  Home. It feels good to hear that word, even if it isn’t my childhood home that I’m driving up to. This is close enough. I had spent enough time in this house growing up for it to give me the same sense of relief, and comfort.

  “Night, Jim.” Dom waves as we drive passed the standing man and up the long drive to the main house.

  The DiBenedetto’s house is slightly larger than our own house. Nonna and I watched “Gone with the Wind” together when I was ten or so, and the DiBenedetto’s house reminded me of Tara, Scarlett O’Hara’s plantation. Whenever I drive up the long tree lined private road, I can practically hear the theme music from the movie paying in my mind.

  The large windows with black shutters contrast against the gleaming white paint of the shingles. The porch lights are always on, regardless of the time of night, like a beacon welcoming you to the safety inside. When daddy passed, and we stayed at this house until Momma was ready to bring us back to the home they made for us together, those lights had soothed me more than once.

  Parking in front of the large columned porch, we are barely out of the car before the front door opens and Aunt Rosie, Nonna and Momma have spilled out to greet us. All three women come to inspect me and feel my skin for fever as if I were ill. Dom lets them bombard me while unloading our luggage from the car, before cutting in and hugging his mom to distract her.

  “Hi Momma, What’s for dinner? Your son is starving.”

  At the mere mention of hunger, the three women jump to attention as if on a mission. Guiding us through the porch and into the main foyer, they buss around planning our impromptu meal. Dom and I are left in their dust as they speed through the two-story entrance hallway and into the dining room, before disappearing toward the kitchen. Leaving our bags by the foot of the split staircase, Dom tells me he’ll meet me in the kitchen as he heads into his office.

  I follow the warm, delicious scents emanating from the large ki
tchen beyond the oversized french doors at the far end of the open foyer. Two place settings are being set at the kitchen island as I walk in. The tell-tale microwave beeping draws my attention to the oval platter mom withdraws from it. I sit down on one of the bar stools while Momma serves out a chicken breast and vegetables to me. Aunt Rosie follows behind with a basket of fresh rolls.

  I hadn’t realized how famished I was, having had confused my hunger pangs for delayed symptoms of my wild night. The marinated chicken is delicious and I devour bite after bite before looking up to see all three women looking back at me. I try to swallow my last mouthful safely before sheepishly asking, “What?, I’m hungry,” with childlike eyes.

  Nonna smiles and places another chicken breast on my plate. “Eat, eat. You eat not enough at school. My job to put meat on your bones.”

  I had just made her one happy grandma.

  My second helping is starting to disappear as Dom finally strides in, looking tired and worn. His plate is warmed and set in front of him before he fully settles. “What are we drinking?,” he asks me after sampling the vegetables.

  I raise my glass of iced lemon water to him, quietly answering him.

  “Oh no. I need a real drink. You?” He heads over to the large wine refrigerator and selects a 2008 Chardonnay before turning to me, holding up the bottle.

  After a squint of my eyes, I hold up my thumb and forefinger to indicate a small smidgen amount, as I savor the warm fresh-buttered bread in my mouth. After gulping down my food, I sarcastically voice out, “You are trying to corrupt me.”

  I’m not sure if it’s a realization, or a request.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After we finish our dinner and clear away our dishes into the dishwasher, Aunt Rosie asks if she can show me my new room. I follow her lead out into the main foyer and up one side of the dual staircase to a set of large carved double doors. I know this room well, as it used to be Dom’s personal home gym.

  Aunt Rosie pauses briefly before opening the gorgeous artisan doors as if she is about to present a masterpiece. The once dank and sweaty man-zone has been completely transformed into a shabby-chic paradise, with my personal items spread around the room as if they belong in their new locations. Warm beige and cream décor fill the large spaces once occupied by treadmills and weight machines. I can barely contain my gratitude for Aunt Rosie’s hard work in making my own special space in her home.

  “Grazia, Aunt Rosie. Grazia. It’s beautiful!,” I move about the room in utter wonder at all of the precious details. What a transformation! Wait...

  “Was Dom OK with this?,” I cry as I hug her small five foot frame.

  She looks almost bashful, with blushed cheeks as I let her go. “Sweetheart, it was my pleasure. Make yourself at home. This room was just begging for a make-over. It will be easier to turn into a nursery this way, anyway...,” I stand back in shock.

  “All right momma. I think that’s quite enough of that. V’s tired. We should let her get some sleep,” Dom declares from the doorway with my bags in his bulging arms.

  Aunt Rosie kisses my cheek goodnight and then pulls Dom’s cheek down to kiss as she passes him, making her exit. When he’s sure she is far enough away and out of ear shot he exhales deeply.

  “You have John on your case to work at the company, and I have my mom on my case to procreate. I win,” he compares each of our familial pressures. “So... what do you think? Do you like the room?”

  I smile.

  “I love it, but you didn’t have to give up your gym for me,” I assert to him, trying not to sound ungrateful. There are many guest rooms on the other side of the house. They are smaller than this airy space, but it’s only temporary. It would have been fine. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  Dom shifts his eyes over to the nearest wall. I notice his neck start to flush under the collar of his shirt as he speaks. “Don’t mention it. I want you to be comfortable here, V. I... needed more space for my equipment, anyway. I had a bigger gym built in the basement. You should check it out,” he looks around the room and walks over to the far side of it, standing in front of the french doors overlooking the sprawling back lawn.

  He nods toward the glass, and informs me, “This side of the house has the most amazing view at sunset. There are chairs out on the veranda now, if you ever want to watch it.” He taps the glass and points to the giant wicker furniture on the other side of the window.

  “The bathroom has been redone, and you know my room is just on the other side of this door if you need... anything,” he steps over to a side pocket door next to the bathroom and opens it to show me the dark interior of his sleep chamber. He closes the door halfway and shrugs his shoulders. “You know, if you have a nightmare or something.”

  I had forgotten about the secret door joining the two rooms. Well, as long as he doesn’t plan on barging in, I don’t see a problem.

  “I don’t have nightmares anymore, Dom.” I can see the embarrassment spread over his tired eyes. I feel guilty that I have possible caused that.

  “But…” I try to lighten the mood, “... if I do, you’ll be the first to know. I promise. You look exhausted from the trip. You should get some sleep.”

  I quickly regret my suggestion. If he heads off to sleep, I’ll be by myself. I haven’t spent this much time alone with him in years, and It’s really nice. Not sure what to say, I just stand there shifting my weight back and forth from one foot to the other. Like me, he must also be at a loss for words, with the charged silence growing between us.

  He steps forward and kisses my cheek softly. I can smell the remnants of his cologne lingering around his skin. It’s spicy and warm, and I want to surround myself in it.

  “Sweet dreams, Baby V,” he whispers into my ear as he lifts his lips from my skin. I feel the weight of his breathing down on me as he stands no more than an inch away.

  Feeling weightless, I think I may be floating from the sensation. My mind floods with speeding images as if I am whirling by them, unable to stop. The pressured pulses building in my veins begin to thud deeply in my ears. I am spinning out of control, but remain still as a rock, mentally grasping for anything to latch onto.

  I find myself desperately wanting Dom to hold me tight, safe, until the storm around me calms. Unsure of how to tell him what I need when I hardly understand it myself, all I can muster is a faint “Mmm, Hmm” preceding a deep gulp as my eyes widen to watch his own deflate and slowly pull away toward his bedroom door.

  Dom pauses before closing the door gently behind him,“Just knock if you need me.”

  Oh I need him alright.

  Oh my God! What am I saying, er, thinking to myself? I reach out to touch the door cautiously, brushing my fingertips over the satin finish. My senses are heightened as I can feel the grain of the wood in it’s delicate pattern under the white smoothness.

  The storm is settling slowly as I turn my back to the door and slide down it’s length until I am met by the hard wooden floor beneath me. I’m not sure how much time passes. It could have just as likely been one or ten minutes, hardly enough time for the prickly bumps along my arms to smooth. I wrap them around my knees, pulling them close into me while trying to sort out what’s just happened.

  Dom’s muffled voice breaks the silence, invading my mind once again, through the door I am resting against.

  “Hey... did you read it?” Pause. “The loses are upward of eighty thousand. We can’t ignore this, I mean enough is enough. This shit’s got to stop, John. They’re forcing our hand.”

  What? It’s almost eleven o’clock at night. Why does Dom need to talk to my brother this late about business, especially if they’ll see each other first thing at the office? I wonder if this has anything to do with that phone call about the man in the hospital? I press my ear closer to the wood to amplify the voice behind it.

  “Yeah, I know. They’re getting violent and it’s only a matter of time before someone gets killed. I’ll be damned if it’s going to be
one of our guys. No... no. We’ll wait‘till the meeting to see what our options are. Yeah, she’s fine. I haven’t gotten into details with her yet. Trust me, she’ll do it. If I know your sister, she’ll really take it on, you know.... But, that’s all I want her knowing right now. I’m doing this my way, John, not taking any chances on screwing this up. Alright. Yup. Eight AM.”

  Silence is all that answers me from the other side of the door, as I hug it tighter, searching for answers. The spinning returns, but this time is a different kind of storm. One of confusion and shock. Who could be killed? Killed?! Is it a figure of speech? Like sometimes I wanted to kill someone for pissing me off? And what am I not supposed to know, so Dom can do this his way?

  My head is hurting as I pick myself up off the floor, and perform my nightly pre-bed routine before crawling into the lush covers of the king-sized bed. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep with all the commotion replaying itself in my head. Someone above me must have taken pity, because sleep rescues me before I drive myself insane with endless unanswered questions.

  ~*~

  Morning light shines through the large windows and over my bed as my eyes attempt to adjust to the sudden brightness around me. Immediately, I try to wrap myself around what happened last night. How much was actually real, how much was a dream? Was any of it real? The richness of Dom’s cologne, the burn his lips left behind on my skin, or the cloak and dagger phone call from behind the closed door.

  Ugh. It’s seriously too early for this level of contemplation.

  As I sit up, letting the blankets fall from me, I look straight ahead to the door at the center of last nights ordeal. I wonder if Dom stares at the other side, planning how and what he was going to be doing “his way.”

  Reaching for my white puffy robe, I swing it around while slipping my arms into it and cinching it at the waist. I make my way down the left staircase to the grand entrance, heading toward the kitchen with my padded socks cushioning my feet from the hard marble beneath them.