by Tami Lund
Yeah, yeah, this was a first. Normally, he was a wham! bam! thank you, ma’am kind of guy, preferring short, steamy encounters to actual relationships. But Gino had never before asked him to do this sort of intel, either, so the entire scenario was one big, fucking miserable first experience for him.
Phoebe would never, ever speak to him again if she knew he was getting close in order to ensure she didn’t have any dirt that might give the cops a reason to toss Gino into a jail cell. And there was also the overriding reality of Antonio’s life. He was Gino’s moneyman, and this job had no retirement date.
“So you haven’t fucked her,” Gino said. “Which means you probably haven’t gotten any information, either.”
“Nope.” Maybe Gino would pull him from this assignment. Just as long as he didn’t put one of his other guys on it. “Pretty sure she legit doesn’t know anything.”
“Maybe she and Proctor will hook up and distract him from hounding my ass. Christ, the guy couldn’t shut up about the hot jogger with the amazing tits. Like I fucking care.”
“You don’t care about amazing tits?” Antonio asked, even as he felt his blood pressure rise at the idea of Joe Proctor getting anywhere close to Phoebe. He tipped his mug to his lips and drained it.
“No, I don’t give a shit about tits. All I care about is if that jogger is going to stop talking to the cops, stop insinuating that I kidnapped my own daughter.”
“But you did.”
“She’s my daughter. It’s not kidnapping.”
Antonio begged to differ. “So when are you going to let her go home?”
“Not sure yet. Maybe next weekend. Margot didn’t sound frustrated enough when I talked to her on the phone this morning.”
Antonio stared at his empty cup instead of looking up, lest Gino see the hatred simmering in his eyes. Margot didn’t deserve his abuse, but Antonio was powerless to stop it.
“Speaking of, I want you to go to Nina’s school tomorrow morning and pick up her assignments for the week.”
“You’re keeping her out of school for a week? Isn’t school almost over?”
Gino shrugged. “Margot can get to her if she’s there.”
Antonio abruptly stood and stalked to the wet bar, placing his empty mug in the small, stainless steel sink and squeezing his fists while he worked to bury his hatred deep enough inside that his brother wouldn’t notice it on his face.
“I’m texting you the address right now. I think school starts at nine. You’re dismissed.”
Antonio stayed where he was for a few more seconds. Then he turned and headed for the door without so much as looking at Gino, let alone acknowledging his command. Gino knew he’d obey anyway, so it didn’t matter.
“Uh-oh,” Nina said when he stepped into the hall. “Looks like you and Dad got into an argument.”
“Everything’s an argument when dealing with your dad.” And he always wins. “You ready for ice cream?”
She slipped her tiny hand into his and his heart melted a little. “Yep.”
“Cherries.”
“Marshmallows.”
“Cherries are way better topping than marshmallows,” Antonio informed his niece.
“Marshmallows go better with graham crackers and chocolate,” Nina said, easily sidestepping the which-is-better-ice-cream-topping discussion.
“I agree, but how do you know? You and your mom go camping a lot?”
They sat on a bench outside one of those build your own yogurt sundae places, eating their respective treats. He’d kept his simple, with caramel sauce and fresh strawberries, while Nina had loaded hers with gummy bears, chocolate nonpareils, chunks of Oreos, chocolate and strawberry sauces, and half a container of colorful sprinkles. She was probably going to have a tummy ache later, but she wasn’t frowning or acting sad at the moment, so it was worth it.
“Not really. We have a fire pit in our backyard.”
“Ah.” He knew she lived somewhere near Phoebe’s apartment, but he wasn’t sure exactly where. He could probably get the address from his brother, but was it worth trying to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why he wanted the information? And what would he do with it, anyway?
It’s not like he could take Nina to visit her. Gino would have his head on a platter. Even if he didn’t kill Antonio for the transgression, he’d find some other way to make him regret the choice. And although Nina missed her mom and didn’t like staying in her dad’s monstrosity of a mansion, she wasn’t being abused. She wasn’t suffering. Soon enough, Gino would grow bored with tormenting Margot, and he’d let the little girl go home.
Until the next time, a little voice whispered in his head. And, goddamn it, the voice was right. Margot would never be free of Gino, and for that matter, neither would Nina. As far as Antonio knew, his brother didn’t have a plan for carrying on his business. Nina was his only child, so it stood to reason that one day, he’d want her to join the company, to become just like him.
Antonio glanced down at his melting dessert and tossed it into the nearby trashcan.
“Didn’t like it?” Nina asked.
He shook his head. “My stomach’s suddenly upset. Too much sugar, I guess.”
Too much disgust over his brother and the power he wielded over those he was supposed to love. Not to mention the irritation with himself for caring so damn much all of a sudden. He’d been working for Gino since high school and had managed to ignore any sense of conscience. Why couldn’t he turn it off any longer?
What had changed in his life to create all this freaking guilt?
Phoebe. Two dates with a good woman and he was questioning everything about his own life.
And he didn’t much like the answers.
“Ready to go back to your dad?” he asked with a sigh as Nina finished her sweet meal.
“Not really. Can I hang out with you instead?”
Shit. He didn’t have plans, other than he’d been toying with swinging by Phoebe’s place to see if she wanted to go for a jog. Not that he was interested in jogging, but she was and he was interested in spending time with her.
No, he was supposed to get to know her for the sole purpose of gleaning information. Fuck. This front-end work really sucked.
“Sure, but I have to warn you: I’m pretty boring.”
“Better than hanging out with Zelda. All she does is talk about boys.” Nina rolled her eyes and Antonio chuckled.
“Well, usually, all I do is talk about girls, but I’ll try to refrain for your sake.”
“I think you’ll do okay,” she said, entirely seriously.
He laughed again. “All right, come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Once he had Nina buckled into the Jeep, he climbed into the driver’s seat and sat there, staring out at the asphalt parking lot. What the heck did one do when hanging out with a six-year-old? They’d already done the eat junk food bit. Now it was time to come up with something with more substance. Nina had loved hanging out with him when she and Margot had lived with Gino, and Antonio wanted that relationship back.
Almost as much as he wanted to see Phoebe again.
Christ, how did clean-cut, honest people do it? It was so much easier to manage life without a conscience.
His phone vibrated and the screen lit up with a text from Phoebe.
Whatcha doing?
He typed back, I’m unexpectedly watching my niece for the day. What should I do with her?
She answered a few seconds later. I have no siblings, therefore no nieces, and no children of my own, so how am I supposed to know?
He grinned down at the phone. He liked her cheekiness. And her compassion. The fact that she was so determined to reunite a child she didn’t know with her mother was pretty cool too. And her desire to try to take care of Margot was sweet.
All traits he normally didn’t give two shits about. And now that he did, those attributes were connected to a woman he shouldn’t be flirting with, other than to do Gino’s bidding.
You seem like someone who would figure out how to have fun with your niece—if you had one—instead of plopping her in front of the TV.
He waited, holding his breath, watching the screen for the moving bubbles that indicated she was texting back.
“Why aren’t we going anywhere?” Nina asked from the back seat.
“I’m texting a friend for ideas for places to go today.”
Words popped up on his phone: You’re probably right, but I honestly have no idea. Have you tried handy-dandy Google?
I’d rather text you. He winced as he pressed the button to send the message. It was a light flirtation. It didn’t mean anything.
“Can we go to the zoo?” Nina asked.
“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.” He typed out a reply to Phoebe. My niece trumped both of us: We’re going to the zoo.
Fun, she replied. Do you have plans for after the zoo? I’m not as good a cook as you are, but I have a lot of leftover lasagna I could share with you.
“Crap,” he muttered.
“What?” Nina asked.
“Nothing. Just decisions I really don’t want to make.”
“What does that mean?”
He typed out his reply, hit send, and then started the car. “It means I’m going to visit a friend when we’re done at the zoo.”
6
Hopin’ To Get Lucky
Okay, so he suggested they go out to dinner instead of stay in, but that was okay, right? It didn’t mean he didn’t want to see her. Maybe he was one of those people who didn’t like leftovers. He had no earthly idea that she’d spent the better part of the evening after he left yesterday, fantasizing about them falling into bed together. Well, actually, the fantasy started in the shower. Phoebe had never had shower sex, but it seemed so… sexy.
Like Tony. And two sexys equaled one seriously turned on Phoebe.
So yeah, maybe she’d texted and suggested he come over because she hoped to seduce him, which was why she was disappointed by his counter-offer of dinner at a restaurant. But she shouldn’t let that get her down.
“Look at it as a challenge, Phoebs,” she said as analyzed her wardrobe. “If we stayed in, there’d be no excuse to get dressed up. Now, I have an opportunity to show off my legs. Or my boobs. Hmm. Maybe both. Going out definitely doesn’t preclude coming back to my apartment afterward.”
She showered and shaved. She painted her nails. She curled her hair and added a couple extra strokes of blackest black mascara. And she donned her favorite purple dress and the matching high-heeled sandals.
Yep. Definitely coming back to her apartment after dinner.
“Wow,” he said when she answered the door, ready to go.
Okay, that was a lie. She was still ready to stay in. Especially after an eyeful of him in a white, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, coupled with a pair of worn jeans that weren’t tight but were clearly designed with his body type in mind. God almighty, she’d never wanted to have sex so badly in her life. And she’d waited a lo-o-o-ng time to give up the V-card, yet that anticipation had nothing on this moment.
“You look gorgeous,” she said, her voice all breathy and—hopefully—sexy.
He laughed. “Hey, that’s my line.”
“We can share it,” she said, and then, emboldened by his obvious appreciation for all the effort she’d gone to, she added, “Are you sure you want to go out?”
“Nope. Which is why we definitely should.”
Oh God, he was trying to be a gentleman. Which was definitely not discouraging her desire. This was going to be such a long dinner.
“How was the zoo?” she asked after they were seated and the server took their drink orders.
“Fun, actually,” Tony replied. “Mostly because my niece is a super cool kid.”
“Your brother’s daughter, right? Or do you have other siblings?”
He shook his head. “Just my brother. Trust me, that’s enough.”
The server returned with two glasses of wine, and Tony asked, “Can you just bring us an order of bruschetta for now? We aren’t in a hurry.” When he wandered away, Tony added, “Hope that wasn’t too presumptuous?”
"Not at all. I love bruschetta. And I’m definitely in no hurry.”
Another lie. If all they did was drink a glass of wine and chow down on the appetizer before dashing out the door, she’d be one seriously happy camper.
“So you guys don’t get along?” she asked.
“My brother and I? Not really.”
“That’s too bad.” Phoebe was the only child to a single mother who’d hightailed it to Arizona as soon as she left the nest. She’d spent her entire childhood wishing she had a sister, but her mom had obviously learned after one mistake.
“Not really. I’d hate myself if I were more like him. It’s bad enough as it is.”
“What do you mean?”
Their bruschetta arrived, and Tony motioned for her to take the first one. After they’d both eaten a slice, he said, “I work for him. So I’m sort of stuck having to deal with him on a regular basis, whether I like it or not.”
“Why don’t you quit and find another job?”
He popped another app into his mouth and chased it with a swallow of red wine. “Can’t. Not how it works in our family.”
She chuckled. “You make it sound like the mafia.”
He started coughing and wheezing, like he was choking on that last bite of bruschetta. “Ohmigod, are you okay?” Phoebe asked, but he shooed her back into her seat as she rose.
“Fine,” he said, gasping. “Just—hang on.” He worked to collect himself, sucking down an entire glass of water while tears streamed down his face. After a few moments, he caught his breath, wiped his eyes, and took a tentative sip of wine. “Wow, that was embarrassing.”
“Don’t worry about it. Are you okay now?”
“Yeah. Fine.” He took another drink. “Sorry.”
“Seriously, don’t be.”
The server appeared and asked if they were ready to order yet. Tony lifted one of the menus and said, “Give us a few minutes and then yes.”
Phoebe grabbed her menu too. Ordering dinner meant they were one step closer to the golden ticket at the end of the night.
After they let the server know what they wanted, Tony brought up Margot and her daughter. It was so sweet that he was so concerned about people he didn’t even know.
“I stopped by her house this morning when I went for a jog,” Margot said. “She said she talked to her ex, but he wouldn’t commit to giving their daughter back. She’s worried about school. Her daughter’s only in first grade, but still. Keeping her out for a significant length of time can’t be good.”
“She talked to him today?” he asked.
Phoebe nodded. “Yeah. She said he called to taunt her. The guy sounds like a real tool.”
“Why’d she marry him then?”
“I asked the exact same question. She said she was young and naïve and didn’t know better. He swept her off her feet, and they had a whirlwind courtship and were married before she really knew who he was.”
“Smart of her to get out.”
Phoebe glanced around at the nearest diners and then leaned over the table. “Her ex is Gino Sarvilli. Do you know who that is?”
“Should I?”
She sat back in her chair. “I didn’t, until Margot explained. He owns Sarvilli Dry Cleaners. The largest dry cleaner chain in the Detroit metropolitan area.”
“Ah.”
“He was a guest at the last wedding I worked.”
“The one where the groom hit on you and the mother of the bride got you fired and then the groom was killed in a car accident a few months later?”
It was refreshing to date a guy who listened.
Wait—date? Were they dating? Did three dates qualify for that label?
Should she bring it up and ask? Or should she wait until later when—hopefully—he spent the night, or at least a few hours n
aked with her?
“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat and resisting the urge to fan her face as images of what he’d look like without clothes popped into her head. “He was a close family friend, apparently. Sat at the mother of the bride’s table.”
Tony’s eyes widened, like she’d told him something fascinating. “No shit.”
Phoebe leaned forward and whispered, “Apparently dry cleaning isn’t his only business.”
“It isn’t?”
“Margot says he’s a crook and makes way more money than he says he does. Says he has a brother who takes all his earnings and invests them and hides it all from the government.”
“She told you that?”
“Well, she’d drunk almost an entire bottle of wine by that point. I doubt she’d have told me otherwise. I mean, that’s hugely illegal.”
Tony grabbed his water glass and chugged it. “Sounds like it,” he mumbled around a mouthful of ice.
“I guess that explains why she treated that detective the way she did. If she was telling the truth, he has good reason to hound her all the time.”
“I doubt she has proof,” Tony said. “So it’s stupid for the detective to harass her.”
“Maybe not, but if he hears it from someone who used to be on the inside, it would give him more motive to keep chasing after her ex, right?”
“I guess.”
Their meals arrived, and Tony ordered refills for both their drinks. The conversation moved to the food, and then to the band that took the stage a little while later. And finally, finally, the table was cleared, they were both done with their drinks, and there was no more excuse to avoid ending the evening.
Hopefully horizontally.
“We should probably go,” Tony said. “You have to work tomorrow, right?”
“I do,” Phoebe agreed, and soon enough, they were heading back to her place.
Where he tried to drop her on her doorstep with another chaste kiss on the cheek.
