by Jo Leigh
Dom grabbed the menu from his father’s hand. “No he won’t. You want Ma to kill me? He’ll have the fresh fruit.”
Joe let his head drop to his hand. “My own son. After all I’ve done for you.”
Dom ignored him. “I’ll have the same.” He’d really wanted a piece of cheesecake, but he’d live.
The grinning waitress walked away, and Joe looked up. “So tell her.”
It wasn’t what Dom had expected to hear. “Tell Sara? Just like that?”
“You feel something for her, yes?”
Dom nodded.
“You trust her?”
“Implicitly”
“You have my blessing. Tell her.”
Dom wished it was that simple, but it wasn’t. And he couldn’t explain without worrying the family. “Thanks, Pop. I mean it. But I’m going to wait a little longer.”
“All right.”
The fruit came quickly and they ate in silence, but Dom’s mind was working at a furious pace. He couldn’t tell her. Once he did, he’d have to ask her to bury the information. It wouldn’t be like her not naming Valente. And that was nothing compared to what might be seen as the family’s behind-the-scenes manipulation. His father was right. The why behind the trust wouldn’t matter. The revelation would be like lighting a bonfire in the town square.
He just wished that all this hadn’t happened right after he’d taken over so much responsibility. If it all fell apart on his watch, he’d never forgive himself.
* * *
SARA KNEW DOM didn’t want to talk about her work tonight. He’d made it very clear when he’d asked her to put everything away, and just be with him. And he’d been right. They’d had a wonderful evening so far. They’d actually gone to see a movie. In a theater. Shocking.
“We should do that more often,” Dom said.
“I agree. Let’s make a plan, say five months from now, when we both have another free night?”
He laughed, and it was nice because he hadn’t been doing that much lately. Ever since he’d lashed out at Mrs. Masucci, he’d seemed different, kind of sad, but Sara hesitated to bring it up.
Maybe he was worried that New York Adventures hadn’t gotten back to him. But it really hadn’t been that long. The more she got to know him, the clearer it became that he was an extremely thoughtful man. He took his time, let things simmer. But he also didn’t tend to hide things, even when she might not be happy to hear what he had to say. He would tell her what was bothering him in his own time, and together they’d make things better.
Back at his place, they didn’t go straight to the bedroom. He fixed them each a drink. He’d picked up a great Irish whiskey for her, while he had red wine. Relaxing in the beautiful living room, cozy against each other, looking out his windows, the mood felt peaceful. It helped that the view was fascinating. SoHo had become a magnet for new money and tourists, but the native New Yorkers hadn’t given up yet. She could see them walking their little dogs in their upscale finery.
When Dom squeezed her hand, she turned to find him smiling. “Oh,” she said, “I meant to tell you yesterday. You’ll never guess what I discovered. So there’s this management company that handles about a third of the rentals in what used to be all of Little Italy. But the name rang a bell—What’s wrong?”
His smile had vanished and his brows lowered. “Nothing.”
“Oh, I forgot I’m not supposed to talk about work. Sorry.”
“Go on.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Sara, just say it.” His tone startled her.
She cleared her throat. “When I looked back at my early research, I found out they’ve been renting out the neighborhood since the 1900s. That’s all.”
His eyes closed and she watched his jaw muscles flex. When he looked at her, it was a different Dom.
“What is it about this rent thing? Why do you have to make such a big deal out of every little detail? For fuck’s sake, none of this is going to change the world. This isn’t some big exposé that’s going to win you a Pulitzer Prize. It’s a thesis. The only person who’s going to give a damn about it is your professor. Oh, and the people who are nervous their rent might go up.”
It was like being slapped. Worse.
He’d never used that tone or said one bad thing to her. But this? Was that what he really thought about her work? While encouraging her, telling her that he was glad to see the fire inside her?
Yeah, well, thanks for the pat on the head.
Trembling, her heart pounding away, she had no idea what to do. Maybe being associated with the neighborhood pariah was getting to him. No, the hell with that. She wasn’t about to make excuses for him.
She stood and put her drink down.
“Wait,” he said, pushing himself off the couch. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. I don’t know what got into me.”
“No, you’re right. Nobody cares about the Black Hand...or Little Italy, for that matter. None of this stuff has any significance anymore.”
“Sara, please.”
She grabbed her bag and sweater. “Guess it’s time for me to get over myself and quit wasting both our time.”
“I don’t blame you for being angry. But please—”
Screw him. She didn’t care what he thought.
She rushed to the elevator and pressed the button. He came after her, but he wasn’t exactly running.
21
TWO HOURS LATER, Dom ended up at the gym. He’d wanted to go after Sara, but he didn’t trust himself, not yet. He’d almost taken it out on the walls in the apartment, but the place belonged to his brother, and he didn’t want to have to make another apology.
Pulling on a pair of gloves, he left the locker room and went straight to the heavy bags. As he pounded the damn thing, all he could think about were the nasty things he’d said to Sara, how he’d crushed her spirit. Again. Broken her heart.
He was such an asshole.
All to protect the trust. Trying to save an ungrateful community. The goddamn thing had been nothing but an albatross around every Paladino’s neck. And now Sara was paying a price, as well.
His fist connected with the bag. He was feeling it in his muscles now, in his back, his thighs, his chest, but he wasn’t close to being done.
Except this hole he’d dug wasn’t about the trust.
The look on Sara’s face would haunt him forever.
Jesus, Mr. Charming himself had handled it completely wrong. God forbid he failed at anything. Or let a single flaw show. What a selfish child he’d been. A selfish teenager. A selfish man.
This was his crossroads. No black or white answer. No one was going to walk out of this situation happy. Least of all him.
Panting, he let his hands drop to his sides. This would tell him what kind of a man he truly was. If he threw the problem back on his father? He’d be a coward. A quitter. But if he told Sara the truth about the trust, and asked her to squash it after promising her he’d never do that, he’d be worse than a liar.
So what was it going to be?
He had to figure out a way that only he would get the brunt of the fallout. If he could do that, maybe he’d be able to look himself in the mirror. And there was no way in hell he was going to let Sara think she was anything less then the amazing woman she was.
* * *
THE LIBRARY FELT EMPTY. Even with all the people she’d come to recognize who haunted the research rooms. Because Dom wasn’t sitting across from her. Or next to her, helping her go through the massive amount of records.
Everyone at work had noticed she was depressed, no matter how hard she’d tried to fake it. Even Ellie had tried to convince her to talk to Dom.
Of course, Ellie didn’t know what he’d said. Didn’t know he’d
called twice but Sara hadn’t answered.
Thoughts of how easy it had been for Robert to manipulate her kept her from sleeping. They’d spun into perfectly logical realizations of how Dominic had spotted her weakness and jumped on the bandwagon. Or maybe he’d just felt guilty about the past.
She’d thought he’d been too good to be true. But had she trusted her instincts? Of course not. She’d been so flattered that Dom could want her.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she promised herself she’d get off this nightmare of a merry-go-round and fall back into her work. It might not be world changing, but dammit, there was still a story to be told. The truth was what she’d been after. The truth was what she would tell. No matter what anyone else thought.
Halfway through bank records from the early 1900s, she thought about calling him.
Dammit.
Just, he’d lost his temper, and she knew that wasn’t like him. Something had to be eating at him. If anyone understood how much damage losing one’s temper could do...
She went back to the records. It wasn’t easy keeping her focus on the work, but every time she had an errant thought, she’d pull herself back.
Discipline had never been an issue. When she set her mind to a project, she was like a dog with a bone.
A name stopped her. It wasn’t even an Italian name, but it rang a bell. She’d seen it before. After saving the PDF on her rapidly filling flash drive, she went back to her notebooks, and sure enough, she found it. The maiden name of a woman who had married a Paladino back in 1918.
Turning back to the computer, she read every word on the document. A huge sum of money had been deposited into her account. Enough to send up a red flag. But according to the affidavits Sara found, there had been no improprieties. Actually, that was during the war, and while some people had removed every cent they had from anything to do with the government or banks, others had done just the opposite.
She continued her search on Mrs. Paladino née James. It wasn’t easy, but as she kept digging, there were names, amounts, bank authorities, business holdings. All of them meant something, but she couldn’t quite put it all together.
What she knew for sure was that the Paladinos were involved. Somehow.
Was this what had Dom so worried he’d lost control? Had more of the Paladinos been in bed with the Black Hand? Was that how they’d paid for their construction business? The house they lived in? Tony’s fantastic apartment—what person who wasn’t a multimillionaire could afford a whole floor in SoHo?
But what didn’t make sense were the records of the management company that had actually kept rents lower, outside of the government-mandated rent control.
Certainly, her parents weren’t paying off anyone to guarantee their rents. It was crazy to think Dom’s parents were doing anything unethical. What was the deal here?
* * *
DOM WAS STILL a wreck, and the worst part about it was that Sara wouldn’t talk to him. There was nothing left do to but force the issue. He was going to tell her about the trust. What he wasn’t going to do was ask her to keep it quiet. Terrifying yes, but bottom line? He trusted Sara to do the right thing. Now all he had to do was convince her to trust him.
He waited half a block away from Moretti’s, until it was ten minutes to closing. Then he made his move. Carlo was in the back and there was still a couple at a table. But Sara had the floor.
When she saw him, she was behind the counter. She froze, a wad of bills in her hand, the cash register open. “We’re closing.”
“I know.”
“There are no slices available.”
“I’m not here for a slice.”
“Then I can’t help you.” She started counting again, but it was easy to tell she wasn’t doing a great job of it.
“Sara, all I’m asking for is ten minutes. There are things to say, and I’d like to say them before we keep speeding down this road. After you know the facts, if you want me to leave, I’m gone.”
“I have to close out.”
He nodded and went to sit at the closest table. He pulled out his cell phone and started reading the first thing that popped up on Reddit so he wouldn’t make her feel uncomfortable.
Time slowed to a trickle, and he couldn’t remember one word he’d read.
Finally, the place was empty. Carlo nodded at him as he left, and he hadn’t even put up the chairs. Sara came to the table with two sodas and put one down in front of Dom. “Okay,” she said.
“My family has been very connected to this neighborhood for five generations. But not in the way you’re thinking.”
“No Black Hand?”
“Just the one. But he was a doozy. He hurt a lot of innocent people, and the rest of the family were hardworking, good folks. Avid churchgoers, gave to the poor. All they knew was that they wanted desperately to make it in America, and they wanted to do it with honor.
“One of my relatives was a skilled mason and he got into construction. But his real skill turned out to be money management. And when he’d amassed enough to make sure his family was taken care of, he started buying real estate. Not that long after, he created a trust meant to help—”
“Wait,” Sara said, holding up her hand. “Of course. A trust. Oh, my God. That makes so much sense. That’s why it was his wife who put the money in the bank. So he wouldn’t be connected...”
He nodded, somehow not surprised that she’d gone on investigating and had put so much of the puzzle together. “It was a way to keep Little Italy from splintering. The low rents were strictly for the old-timers and their families to hold on to their homes and businesses. As long as the family stays in the properties, the rents are kept low. Lots of people have moved away. And when they do, we rent at the going rates.”
“Wait, how many people... No, wait, that’s not what I... How much is this trust worth?”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “One hell of a lot.”
“Is the money tied up so you can’t get at it?”
“No. We can. The money isn’t the issue,” he said, watching her closely. “It’s about privacy.”
“You’re not supposed to be telling me all this.”
He shook his head, barely able to breathe.
Sara leaned back, letting out a long slow stream of air. “Holy shit, Dom.
“I still don’t get why you all work like crazy people. Why don’t you have yachts and penthouses?”
“Do we look like yacht people to you?” He hated that he couldn’t read her. “Guess money doesn’t stop a guy from being an asshole, huh?”
“Guess not.”
“I’m still mortified at what I said to you.” Flashing back to that night felt like taking a blow to the gut. “I can’t apologize enough. None of it was true. I was—”
“You were scared.”
He opened his mouth to argue, then nodded. “I was terrified. You’re good. Working alongside you I saw how thorough and persistent you are. I knew you’d find something.”
She blinked. “So, you were spying on me.”
“I wouldn’t call it—Yeah, I was.”
“Your dad?”
Dom nodded. He wasn’t about to hide anything now. Even though she didn’t look too happy.
“I understand.” She stared briefly at her hands. “Do you have anything else to tell me?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ll answer any questions you have.”
“Actually, I figured you might have a question for me.”
He finally got it. “I’m not going to ask you to bury the information.”
Sara shrugged and lowered her eyes for a moment. “Hmm. I guess I’m not the best investigative journalist in the world.”
“What? Don’t say that.”
“Dom, I’m not going to include anything about t
he trust in my thesis. It’s not worth it. And if that makes me a lousy journalist, that’s okay.” She leaned closer. “It’s better than being a shitty human being. Even though this stupid, ungrateful community doesn’t deserve it, your family has done a lot. I’m not about to undo everything your trust has accomplished just to show everyone I’m right.”
He couldn’t stand it another second. He took hold of her and nearly broke his knees leaning over the table until he could reach her lips. He’d missed kissing her so much. Being without her was like losing a limb.
When they finally took a breath, she had a puzzled look on her gorgeous face.
“Go on. Ask.”
“You took an awfully big chance telling me.”
“Not really. The more I thought about it, the more I realized you would make the right decision. Not because you’re not a great journalist, but because you and me, we care about the same things. Family. Integrity. Little Italy, whatever’s left of it. And, well, I, for one, hoped like hell you cared about me.”
Being far smarter than him, Sara got up, walked around the table and made him stand up. The kiss was much better. And longer. So he could hold on to what he’d gotten back.
For the second time in his life, Sara Moretti had given him another chance. One he was not going to blow.
“Okay,” he said, pulling back reluctantly. “A couple of things you still need to know. First, the trust is turning into a foundation. We’re going to use some of the assets to make improvements here in the community.”
“Okay, sounds wonderful.”
“The family agreed it’s the right thing to do. They all also agreed, which is kind of nuts, but I’m going to run the foundation.”
“Wow. So no New York Adventures?”
“Nope. But I’m going to need some help. A lot of charities are going to come knocking once the foundation is established. It won’t be easy sifting through them all, trying to figure out who could use the funds most.”
“I see your point.”
“I’m going to need assistance, someone who’s thorough and likes digging deep. So if you know of anyone...”
