Baby V (Chianti Kisses #1)

by Tara Oakes

  The dim lights, the flickering candles strategically placed about, and the delicious smells greeting me as I enter the inner-sanctum of the restaurant are reminiscent of my younger years. Almost every major family milestone is in someway connected with this place.

  As evident in pictures and stories, each of my siblings and I, as well as Dom and Theresa had our Christenings celebrated here. Confirmations, engagements, birthdays, anniversaries... they all involved Alberti’s in some way, and Cecily’s baby shower is the next in a long line of traditional celebrations to be hosted here.

  A young, high-school aged pretty girl stands behind the mounted podium. I wait my turn to address her, as the couple who entered before me are awaiting their table.

  “Hi, I’m Vincenza Lombardi. I’m here to meet Mario for a menu sampling.”

  The young girl’s eyes light up. “V? Is it really you? It’s me, Ariana!”

  I reach out to her as she moves herself around the podium to embrace. “Little Ariana? How can this be? You’re not nearly old enough to be out this late on a school night!”

  The petite girl laughs in my arms., smothered by my hug. “Tell that to grandpa! He thinks I should earn the money for my first car. I have to work here a few days a week after school.”

  Ariana is one of the newest generation of Alberti’s. I used to babysit her when she was a kid. I pull myself away to look at her. She’s still a kid in my mind, but in my eyes, she’s a gorgeous young woman. I can’t believe how she’s grown. I pinch her nose like I used to when she was a toddler. And she bashfully giggles.

  “Grandpa told me you’d be coming by. Dom’s already waiting for you.” She takes me by the hand and walks with me deeper into the dining room. Leaning close, she whispers excitedly. “He’s got a surprise for you.”

  I close my eyes in frustration, depending on Ariana’s guidance to steer me clear of anything in our way. I can’t believe he’s involved the Alberti's in this too! They're practically family and close enough to all of us that I’m sure they’ll help spread the gossip just as much as Momma will.

  I open my eyes just in time to see us walk through the remainder of the main dining hall and into the bar area where I see Dom propped up against the antique woodwork with a half empty glass in his hand, with Mario on the other side letting his boisterous infectious laughter out for the diners to marvel at.

  Dom’s suit jacket is draped around the back of his bar stool, his dress sleeves rolled up exposing his bronzed skin. His tie hangs loose around his neck as he is clearly unwinding after a long day’s work. Ariana squeezes my arm and smiles excitedly before heading back to her station, leaving me to make the rest of trip alone.

  Mario spots me first as I make my approach. He beams to me while throwing his bar rag over his shoulder and reaching over to pat Dom on the upper arm while nodding over to me. Time slows as Dom finishes his most recent laugh and moves to turn in the direction Mario’s just nodded in... my direction.

  The wide smile on his lips begin to show itself as his head slowly turns, his gleaming teeth shining in the bar light. His eyes are dancing as they move across the room before settling on me as I make my approach. His eyes lock onto mine, calling me to him, and I mindlessly move forward step after step until I reach close enough where my wound nerves settle themselves in the comfort his presence offers them.

  Dom reaches out to me, pulling me close, slipping his arm around me and landing his lips onto mine, offering the nearby spectators a lesson in public displays of affection.

  “Hey babe. Glad you’re finally here. I’m starved,” Dom greets me.

  Mario pours a glass of white wine and graciously offers it to me. “Vincenza! So glad you’re home! Your boy here’s been filling me in on your new job! Congratulations!”

  I smile tightly at my Dad’s old friend. He’s been given quite a lot of information tonight, hasn’t he, both verbal and visual. I reach my arm around “my boy” and use my fingers to grab a pinch of his flesh and squeeze.

  “Thanks Mario. We’ll see how it works out.”

  Dom laughs out at my half-hearted attempt to inflict retribution on him. He moves his palm and takes hold of my pinching hand, releasing its hold on his side.

  “Come on, V. I’m dying for some eggplant,” he leads me away from the bar and Mario, as I wave behind us to the well-meaning restauranteur.

  Dom pulls me closer to him, slipping his hand from my grip to behind my back, settling on the hollow right above the cleft, bordering on inappropriate. He guides me through a pair of doors into the private dining area that I am looking to secure for Cecily’s party.

  Holding his arms out, he reaches past me and pushes the swing door outward, moving the obstacle from our path as we move through. The room is dark, my eyes begin to make the adjustment but the process is slow. Shapes begin the transition into outlined objects, and sounds amplify themselves in my ears as my remaining senses are on hyper drive to compensate for my lack of sight.

  Dom's pressing form molds itself into my body from behind. “Hit it Mario.”

  Instantaneously, the lights raise themselves to a dim wattage cascading their soft glow before my eyes. I blink hard several times to convince myself that what I see is real, and not some fleeting daydream seizing the opportunity to manifest itself into my moment of blindness.

  Christmas-type lights are strung across the overhead beams and draped around the columns. Red and white rose petals are spread in a thin layer over the marble dance floor centered in the room. A small round table with crisp linens is offset, surrounded by the flower parts. Two chairs are set to face opposite each other.

  I feel Dom's hand move from from my lower back and lazily up the back seam of my dress to play with the fine hairs on my neck. His lips are next to play with the patch of exposed skin. “You like it?”

  My speech skills haven't fully returned. “Wha- what's this for?”

  Dom's one arm reaches around to my front and pulls me back to him. “We're celebrating.”

  “Celebrating what?”

  His breath is hot on my skin. “Our first official date.” He pushes into me, urging me to move forward toward our set table. Once it's reached he pulls back the nearest chair chivalrously for me.

  A silly though runs through my head. “So, does this make me a slut? I mean, I practically put out before our official first date,” I laugh.

  Dom takes his seat.“Let's just say it gives me high hopes for our second date.”

  ~*~

  Tuesday morning my alarm clock wakes me at six-fifteen. Six fifteen AM. I haven't been up this early in weeks, and my body is not used to the sudden change in my sleep pattern. A hot shower begins to reinvigorate my sleepy eyes although my large comfy bed is calling me back, beckoning to me like a beacon of sweet dreams. Dreams of Dom replaying in my head as I relive each and every minute of last night.

  Euphoria clouds my judgement as I stand in the walk-in closet that is temporarily mine. Part of me wants to wear something sexy and gorgeous for Dom to see me in, but better judgement prevails. Having never been to a board meeting before, I’m not quite sure what to dress myself in. I can go the uber-professional route and wear my black pant suit even though it is reserved for funerals... or I can switch it up a little. I mean, I am only twenty-two (well, almost twenty-three) and since I am the head of my new‘department’, I think I’m entitled to set the dress code for it, right?

  A pair of tailored black capris, a pink satin button down shirt tucked in and a pair of black leather slip on kitty heels. I unbutton the top two buttons and add a long strand of pearls to polish the look off. Wearing my hair down and wavy with a hint of makeup, I inspect my reflection before approving the new professional version of me.

  Dom is taking a phone call while finishing his morning coffee at the dining room table. I sit down next to him and tap my imaginary watch to illustrate that I am ready. I had woken up super early to make sure that I wouldn’t be my usual late self, and I’ll be damned if Dom is goi
ng to ruin my first real shot at punctuality.

  Ending his call, he leans over playfully tugging at my pearls, skimming the strand and his fingers dangerously close to my breast.

  “Nice pearls... very businesswoman-like.” His fingers continue along the edge and move to button the second shell button closed. He smiles, satisfied with himself. “Now, that’s perfect.

  I pretend to scowl at his overprotective gesture, but he just kisses the tip of my scrunched up nose, “Let’s go. I’ll bring you up to speed in the car.”

  Dom’s driver once again has the car ready and prepared as we set off to brave rush hour traffic into the office. With his tie draped undone around his neck I instinctively close in and begin to fumble with it. I’m a little rusty, but I manage to make it look decent. Mom had taught me how to help with my brother’s neckties. Getting three boys ready for formal functions needed all the assistance she could get. Happy with the finished product, and Dom smiling down at my accomplishment, I think it best to get a jump start on my new business savvy.

  “So, Mr. CEO. Brief me.”

  He angles himself toward me and props his elbow up on the back of my seat. “How much do you know about ATH? I know you’ve never really paid attention when anyone’s ever spoken about it....”

  True. I usually zone out whenever business talk starts, but I am fully capable of using Google and Wikipedia to know enough about my family’s business to impress him, I think.

  “I know that it was started by our fathers when they were just teenagers fresh off the boat from Italy. They imported wine and olive oil at first and then bought the vineyards and olive groves. Eventually, they had a whole fleet of cargo ships that shipped worldwide, and added a trucking company to handle the cross country hauling. My dad handled all of the office-type stuff and yours managed all of the stuff in the field. They kept the company privately owned and left the it to their children.”

  Dom looks truly surprised at the amount of ATH knowledge that I actually do know. “Very good. Sounds eerily similar to our last press release.”

  Damn. That was where most of my information came from, actually.

  “But... you’re missing a few key facts, princess. Our Dads had little more than pocket change when they left their village and came to this country to make a better life for themselves. My dad practically grew up on a boat and was willing to work himself ragged to make something of himself. Your dad was a genius when it came to marketing and strategizing. He turned a small fishing boat into an empire. He sacrificed a lot for this company....” His voice trails off. My dad sacrificed more than any man should have to, for his work. Back on track, Dom carries on.

  “But, it took one thing that neither of them had, to get the business off the ground. Money. So... they did what most poor foreign immigrants did. They got in with a loan shark. Emilio Rizzo loaned them what they needed to get things started, but charged them an astronomical amount of interest. Banks weren’t really an option for their kind back then, and the shylock’s took full advantage of it. After a year or so, thanks to your dad’s business savvy, they were able to pay their debt back. By that time, Rizzo had seen how much potential ATH had. He needed some more reputable income streams, so he refused to accept their payment. Instead, he wanted a percentage of the company.”

  It’s obvious that Dom is registering confusion on my face.

  “Rizzo wasn’t exactly the type of guy that you negotiated with, baby. So, they gave in ,which probably saved their business from being burned to the ground. Rizzo became a very silent partner with twenty percent holding in the company. Your dad held forty percent, and my dad the other forty. The company stayed in-tact and Rizzo had a legitimate income to divert attention from his other, er, investments. He had little interest in the business other than his monthly dividend check. It was a win-win situation. When your dad passed, his portion of the company was divided among you kids. Ten percent each. When my dad died, Theresa and I split his portion. Twenty percent each.”

  The car suddenly stops short, getting caught in the bumper to bumper traffic into Manhattan. I jerk forward against my seatbelt with the sudden halt of inertia. Dom reflexively holds his arm over me to protect me from imaginary harm. I feel safe under his strong hold but it’s short lived as he quickly realizes that he’s overreacted and frees me. Trying to divert my attention from his flush of embarrassment, he continues his story.

  “Ahem. Rizzo died about two years ago. His twenty percent stake was left to his son, Emilio Jr, or, as we affectionately call him, E.J.”

  Judging by Dom’s sudden change in tone, I highly doubt there is any affection between him and this E.J. guy.

  “Jr. is a bit more of a handful than his father. He’s tried to take more of an active role in the company. He has a very different vision of where the company should be heading. Let’s just say... he and our family business don’t really mesh well together. We vote down his proposals every time. But, he’s tried to stage a hostile takeover more than once. We do everything we can to keep him in check, but with twenty percent holding, he has some pull. John has control of your ten percent until you reach your inheritance. Our father’s legacy is being divided among more and more of us. Another generation of splitting our shares and Rizzo will have controlling interest with the largest individual share of ATH. Which, according to our company by laws will give him the edge he needs to seize my job. So, you can see why it’s so important for us that we present a united front against him. He’s an asshole, plain and simple, V. He would run the company into the ground with his twisted business practices. He’s going to be at the board meeting. I want you to promise to stay away from him, V. I’m serious baby, promise me.”

  Hmmm. Let me think about this one. Someone other than a Lombardi or a DiBenedetto is trying to take control of the company my father lost his life protecting. Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

  “Alright. I promise. United front. Got it.” I hold out my crooked pinky to emphasize my sincerity.

  Dom looks down at my pinky gesture with a quizzical look. He smirks while shaking his head, leaning into me. He anchors his lips in front of mine. “No pinky promises. You’re not a kid anymore, V. Just tell me you promise.”

  The sweetness of the imported coffee still lingers on his breath. I withdraw my small finger and repeat my pledge. “I promise. I’ll stay away from him.”

  Dom nods in agreement, then applies his lips to mine before pulsing them against me deeply. I would promise this man anything.

  His cell phone interrupts our potential make-out session. As he leaves my needy lips to answer his call, I turn my attention to the window I’m opening, enjoying the fresh air that helps me recover. Dom’s phone conversation monopolizes his attention for the duration of our car ride.

  I pass the time by checking my emails on my phone. I send a generic “How’s your vacation, I’m so jealous, call me when you get back” message to Stephanie. I haven’t heard much from her since she left with her family. I’m sure she has better things to do on a tropical island with beautiful beaches than to surf the internet and reply to me.

  Our car pulls up to the home base building with the whirl of morning rush-hour around us. As the driver opens my door, Dom follows behind, ending his call. Swarms of hurried businessmen and women crowd through the main doors like packed sardines. It’s a good thing I’m not a claustrophobic person by nature, because the elevator ride would have sent me into a panic.

  I stare at the shiny plaque on the wall above the control panel stating the maximum capacity and weight limit. I then assess each of my fellow riders while sizing each of them up and decide that next time I’ll be taking the stairs. I’ve seen one too many horror movies where elevators drop out of control.

  As we head to the top floors of the building, we loose the majority of our passengers, easing my nerves. Dom squeezes my hand, noticing my discomfort. The familiar elevator chime alerts us of our destination .

  “Ready?”

  There are
so many layers to that question. Am I ready to sit in on my first meeting? Am I ready to enter a room full of family at Dom’s side? Am I ready to grow up? Am I ready to join in my family’s legacy?

  Inhaling deeply, as if it will somehow provide me with some magical answer to these questions, I nod and accept his hand. We walk into the main lobby and through the cubicles or warm, friendly faces. Approaching the executive area I can see the other board members, a.k.a. my siblings, loitering around the entrance to the board room. I instinctively seize my hand back from Dom without so much as a glance in his direction. I can feel him rolling his eyes at my concerns, but he pacifies me and leaves my hand un-held as we make our approach. In my mind, I’m doing him a favor. My brother’s won’t care if he’s their boss, let alone that they are in a business office. They would beat the crap out of him. I can only pray that word hasn’t gotten to them yet.

  John looks especially pleased to see me, hugging me tightly before reaching past me to grasp Dom’s hand in a strong handshake. He had managed to do what John hadn’t, couldn’t... he’s gotten me to agree to come to work with them and I’m sure John’s grateful to him. Mike and Tony take turns with their own quick brotherly greetings. I’m sure they remember how daunting their first meeting was, and I’m thankful for all of their support.

  The board room is especially long and narrow, occupied by a very expensive, gleaming, wooden table with padded chairs. The view is exceptional, overlooking Manhattan’s morning skyline. Ellen and another woman are busily putting the finishing touches on a delicious looking breakfast spread. Oh good. I haven’t eaten yet and my stomach is starting to growl. I was hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible this morning, and I don’t need my growling stomach giving me away in the middle of the meeting.

  I wait for others to help themselves before I join the line and fill my plate with fruit salad and a muffin, coffee in hand. Theresa has already claimed a seat and I hurry over to take the vacant chair at her side. She looks tired.