by Jo Leigh
“DeSalvio Playground,” Joe said. “That’s another place there should be more grass. And the neighborhood could use a good day care center that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.”
Theresa frowned at him. “How did you get to be such an expert?”
“I listen when I go to the park,” he said. “When I go to the corner for coffee. I hear what’s going on.”
“You mean, you flirt with all the women?”
“Well,” Tony said, “I think the whole idea of focusing on the community in general is a good idea. Why don’t we see what we can do? Talk to the accountant. Although Dom’s right, we’ve got a lot of money at our disposal. Dom, you’re gonna need to figure out what you want for your own place eventually, but after that? We all have what we need. The company is going fine. Let’s figure out where we can make the most difference.”
“I can do that,” Joe said. “Figure those things out.”
No one said anything for a few seconds.
“What? It’s not like work. There’s no stress in finding out. I like finding out.”
Theresa glanced over at Dom. “Maybe you could do that with your father?”
Tony cleared his throat. “Uh, Dom’s going on interviews now, so maybe he doesn’t have time—”
“Dom is sitting right here,” Dom said. “And Pop, if you’d let me, I’d like to work on this with you.”
Joe smiled in a way Dom hadn’t seen in ages. This new focus of the trust money could be a great project for him. It would keep him involved without harming his health.
“I’d like that, Dominic.”
The whole family lifted their glasses, wine and tea. Dom had thought tonight would be complicated and full of arguments. But it seemed they were all ready to finally enter the twenty-first century.
A quick glance at his watch, and Dom knew if he stuck around to clear the table and made plans to meet with his dad in a couple of days, he’d be just in time to catch Sara after she locked up at the pizzeria. Assuming she was working.
Tonight, he wasn’t going to let things get away from him. Once and for all, he was going to find out what he’d done that had been so bad she’d carried it around for all these years.
After they’d had dessert, Dom collected the dirty plates, feeling a little nostalgic as he carried them into the kitchen. Now that he was living in Tony’s apartment, he didn’t see the family as often. Soon enough he’d have a whole different kind of life, separate from Paladino & Sons Construction, the family dinners, the rhythm of generations that had cocooned the brothers since birth.
He thought he might like to stay in New York, but if he ended up with a big PR firm, he’d have to go where they sent him. Maybe some new scenery wouldn’t be so bad.
“Hey.” Luca had followed close behind, balancing the serving platters and salad bowl. “You knew all along we were having that chicken dish.”
Dom grinned. He set the dishes on the counter by the sink and reached in his pocket. “Here,” he said, holding out the ten. “I was gonna give it back to you.”
“Yeah, sure.” Luca set down his load and snatched the bill. “Shithead.”
They looked at each other and laughed. Roughly speaking, they were worth close to a hundred million dollars each. Ten bucks would hardly break either one of them.
6
THE NIGHT WAS balmy and it felt good to move after eating two servings of his mom’s raspberry panna cotta. Dom tried to decide if he should take the subway or cab it home. On a pleasant night like this? Had to be the subway. Even if he did have to walk past Moretti’s.
It was just after nine, but he didn’t care if the restaurant was closed or not, or even if Sara had worked tonight. Sometime between dessert and leaving the house he’d decided he didn’t want to get sucked into any more of her bullshit.
If she didn’t want to tell him what he’d done to her, fine. She could keep her little secret. He wasn’t about to screw up another interview worrying about her, or miss the chance to enjoy working with his dad. Dom looked forward to spending one-on-one time with him.
And using the trust to give Little Italy a cosmetic boost sounded right. No telling what might come of it. Maybe more of Dom’s generation would stick around. Just because he’d probably be heading down a different road himself didn’t mean that he’d stop caring about the old neighborhood.
A blond couple he didn’t recognize was strolling toward him. As they got closer he gave them a friendly nod, which they ignored, then entered the five-story building that now consisted of luxury apartments. Before the conversion, Dom had known every family who’d lived there.
A block away from Moretti’s he spotted Sara locking the door, the light inside revealing the stacked chairs on top of the tables. Oh, well, he wouldn’t be rude. He’d say hi as he passed her. She could acknowledge him or not; he didn’t care.
Between Dom and the restaurant, two guys crossed the street, darting directly in front of a car like idiots. One of them looked like Kenny Tomlinson, which made sense because being a dick was right up Tomlinson’s alley.
Dom watched the two guys loop around so they were behind Sara, who hadn’t noticed them. He didn’t like the looks of that.
Kenny didn’t even know Sara, so why was he...?
Alarm bells went off, and Dom’s gut tightened. That wasn’t Kenny. Dom started jogging, making sure when he crossed the street that he didn’t call attention to himself.
As he got closer, Dom realized he had no idea who those dudes were. They didn’t look like tourists. What they did look like was trouble.
When the tall guy with the bleached hair got up next to Sara, she jolted, reared back.
Screw jogging, Dom flat out ran until he pushed himself between the stranger and Sara and put an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” he said, feeling the waves of tension roll through her body. “Who’s your friend?”
The guy stepped back, and Sara relaxed a little. “Hi,” she murmured with a shaky smile.
“Hi back,” Dom said, then kissed her right on the mouth.
She tensed all over again, and so did he. While he’d just been trying to make a point, the kiss had caught him by surprise. It wasn’t just lips on lips, which should have been nothing. Instead, it was a kiss. Even though there was no tongue involved, he felt as if he’d closed a circuit, letting a spark flow between them. It lasted seconds, but the effects lingered after he pulled back.
Then one of the idiots ruined everything by bumping into Dom’s back.
“What are you doing with pretty boy, gorgeous?” Blondie said. “Me and my buddy, we got what you want.” He used his elbow this time to try and move Dom out of the way.
At the same time, the other scumbag had sidled up to Sara’s right, but instead of looking at her, his focus was on her bag. Did they think she kept the restaurant’s cash in that purse? The strap was across her body, but Dom knew from the guy’s body language that he must have a knife at the ready. A practiced snatch and grab.
Pulling Sara in closer, Dom stared straight into the guy’s blemished face. “You’re not from around here. I suggest you go back to wherever you came from.”
Both men laughed.
Not men. Boys. Barely out of high school, Dom guessed. After repeating every grade twice. Definitely not from around here. Blondie’s bleached hair was spiked. Both earlobes were plugged, and an ugly sleeve of tattoos ran down his left arm. The other guy, whom Dom had mistaken for Kenny, wasn’t so flashy. But he had a hell of a mean look in his eyes, which hadn’t drifted far from his target.
Beside Dom, Sara squirmed free of his arm. “What is this, Dom?” Her tone was incredulous, her accusing gaze searching him instead of watching out for the two thugs who were seconds away from robbing her. “Did you set this up? Just because I didn’t let you walk me
home last we—”
A fist slammed into his face. He staggered back, but wasted no time in landing a jab to Blondie’s nose. Dom grabbed Sara’s arm, lurching her forward. By the time she was out of range, he was already halfway into his round kick, which caught the other guy right over the liver.
He grunted in pain and stumbled back against the brick building.
“Oh, shit!”
That was Sara’s voice, loud, surely gaining more attention from anyone nearby, but Dom wasn’t going to let up until cops stepped in or these idiots made a run for it. His next jab hit Blondie’s nose in the same place. Blood gushed out, sliding down his chin and onto his shirt as he cursed violently.
Dom thought he saw the flash of a knife in the other guy’s hand, still ready to slash the purse strap, or worse. “Get out of here, Sara. Now.”
A quick flat kick to the groin, and the resulting scream almost covered the sound of a small switchblade hitting the sidewalk. By that time, Blondie, trying to staunch the blood streaming down his face, was already making a run for it. His buddy followed, holding his crotch, groaning in pain and throwing one last death glare at Dom.
* * *
SARA, STILL REELING after the quickest fight in Little Italy history, gasped when Dom turned around. His eye was already swelling, and blood trickled down from the edge of his eyebrow. It seemed stupidly obvious now that he hadn’t set anything up, and she felt like an idiot for even thinking—
“You okay?” he asked.
“Me? I’m fine. He had a knife. I didn’t know he had a knife.”
Dom grunted as he picked up the weapon, pressing it closed against his belt. “I realize.”
“Oh, God, Dom... I’m so sorry. I feel terrible. Thank you for—”
“Didn’t do it for you.” He stared after the two creeps. “Pretty boy,” he muttered under his breath. “Stupid fuckers.”
Sara almost laughed. If those two ever came sniffing around again, well, she just hoped Dom wasn’t the one who got arrested. “Come on. We’ve got a first aid kit at the restaurant.”
“I’ll be fine. Let’s get you home.”
“You’re bleeding. And the parlor is right there.”
He touched a finger to the cut, and looked at the red spot, which was tiny. “I’m going to walk you home anyway, so let’s go now so I can get back to my place while ice will still make a difference.”
She was making things worse with every word. God, why was it so complicated with him? “Right. You’re right.” She took hold of the back of his arm and started moving toward home as quickly as she could. Would it be smarter to stop a cab? Even as she doubted it, she maneuvered him closer to the curb.
“We don’t need a taxi. I’ve been hurt lots worse, trust me.”
“You fight? I mean, you fight willingly?”
“I skirmish. I train. That’s not fighting.”
“Is that how...” Everything had happened in a matter of seconds. “How did you learn all those moves?”
He gave her half a grin. “Years of classes.”
She nodded as they crossed the street. They’d reach her house in a few minutes. Her folks were still in Italy, and Ellie wouldn’t be home until eleven, so Sara could take care of Dom’s face without having to confess her role in getting him beat up. “Luckily, I put a big rib eye in the fridge this morning.”
“What? Why is that lucky?”
“Because of your...” She almost caught him in the ribs. If he hadn’t ducked, she would have gotten him. Obviously he was tender there, as well.
“You know that’s not really...a steak isn’t necessary. Ice is good. Personally, I prefer a bag of frozen peas.”
“I know. I was just... I don’t know what I was thinking.” Sara sighed. “Wait. Personal preference? How often do you get beat up?”
He stopped and stared at her. “Beat up? I took a punch. That’s it.”
“Sorry,” she said, and tugged him along. “What happened to your ribs? Did one of those guys—”
Shaking his head, he glanced down. “I think I pulled a muscle when I pushed you out of the way.” His gaze lifted to her face, then slid down to her arm. “I grabbed you pretty hard. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She swallowed at the concern in his face before looking away. “No, you didn’t. You saved me from being robbed. And maybe worse. Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
She looked at him, briefly, glad his cut didn’t look too bad, and then stared straight ahead. All he seemed to do was confuse her. For so long, she’d thought he was an arrogant jerk who never had to lift a finger to get what he wanted.
At last, they’d reached her parents’ duplex. They took the three steps up to the porch, and just as he’d done a few other times along the way, Dom glanced around behind them.
Sara laughed a little and got a frown. “Dom, they think you’re my boyfriend,” she said. “I promise they won’t be back.”
He gave her a slow, sexy smile. “I don’t know. They were pretty stupid.”
“That’s true.” She met his eyes and steeled herself against a tingling sensation that started in her belly and was spreading through her thighs. No, he hadn’t given her a sexy smile. That was just the way he smiled. Damn him.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding at the door. “I’ll wait until you’re inside and locked up.”
“What do you mean? You’re coming inside with me.”
He shook his head. “I’m going to take a cab home. I live fifteen minutes away.”
“And you’ll still live the same fifteen minutes away after I tend to your eye.”
Images of how he’d gone all superhero on those stupid bastards looped in slow motion in her mind, and by the time she’d gotten her key out, her heart was racing like a Lamborghini.
Jesus, what did the poor guy have to do to prove he wasn’t that shitty kid she’d overheard talking to his friends a lifetime ago? He let her get away with a slapdash apology after she’d been really bitchy. Got rid of the food truck and hadn’t even been pissed that he’d had to change clothes before his interview—while she’d acted like an ungrateful jerk. Then he saved her from who knows what kind of assault with Bruce Lee moves and James Bond finesse. Right after her cynicism had gotten him punched in the first place.
The pattern was... Well, yeah.
She unlocked the front door and led him straight into the kitchen. To have the place to herself was rare, and she didn’t even give a damn that tonight had been slated as a prime transcribing opportunity. “I’ll get the peas and then we’ll go to the bathroom so I can put something on that cut.”
After grabbing the frozen vegetables, she led him through the living room and up the stairs. Across from her bedroom was the bathroom. It was comfortably large, and while she pulled out the first aid kit from inside the vanity, he sat down on the bathtub surround.
She put the antiseptic and a small Band-Aid on the countertop, and then washed her hands as the water heated up for the washcloth. “Close your eyes,” she said, her voice low, her concentration high. It really was a minor cut, but she got it completely clean and medicated before she covered the wound.
Dom didn’t even wince.
She went to put the peas on his eye.
“Thanks. I can take it from here,” he said.
“Of course you can.” She took two steps back before turning to the sink. She honestly felt clumsier than anytime since she’d gotten her braces. “I should have a look at your ribs.”
“Nah, they’re okay—” He stopped, and after a brief silence he said, “Yeah, maybe you should.”
Sara bit her lip. His voice had lowered and now she wasn’t sure she could turn around and face him.
“You’ll have to help me get my shirt off.
I want to keep icing this eye.”
“Or I could just lift it and have a look.”
“You could.”
She was the one who’d opened her big mouth. No way was she going to back down and let him know how much he affected her. Washing her hands a second time, she said, “Well, you were right about the neighborhood. It makes me sad, though. Growing up, it always felt as if we were in a separate village outside of the Big Apple. You know?”
“Yeah. Everything’s changed now. The real estate market, the massive push to modernize. Everyone wants to cash in.”
“Must be good for business.” She turned around in time to see him nod.
“We’re busy, all right,” he said, and yanked his shirt from his jeans.
Her heart nearly catapulted out of her chest. “Before we—” She cleared her throat. “Again, thank you,” she said, hoping he couldn’t detect the slight tremor in her voice. “I have no idea what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
Taking her hand, he tugged her down to sit beside him. “You already thanked me. No more, okay?” He smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe you can help me unbutton my shirt. It’s kind of fitted so just pulling it up will be tough.”
The shirt looked tailor-made, and the buttons were on the small side. Unfastening them would be difficult with her unsteady fingers, but she was game.
Inhaling his rich earthy scent, Sara wetted her lips and freed the first button.
What were they doing here? He hadn’t actually hurt his ribs. They both knew it.
She unfastened the second button and thought of Robert. As confusing as their relationship often was, she could at least make some sense of it. They’d both been journalism students, he’d had an obsession with the Vatican and Sara spoke Italian a lot better than he did. Their plan was that she’d join him in Rome as soon as she finished her thesis. But by then Robert would be established and probably wouldn’t need her at all.
