Given permission, she tentatively pushed open the door to Sal’s room a few minutes later. He was reclined against the pillow, his face still fairly pale, but he opened his eyes immediately and smiled at her. “Oh. Hi. Wow, you look great.”
She did love him. Even with bandages swathed across his bare chest and his hair definitely unruly—not to mention the shadow of a beard—he was good-looking, but that wasn’t the reason. That light in his eyes and his boyish smile weren’t an act. Sal was a nice guy.
Reign knew she had a definite weakness for him. But loving someone and being in love with them—not the same thing.
As the saying went, there was always a “but.” Their families hated each other. It wasn’t a light enmity either, and it needed to be addressed. He was also younger—enough to give her pause. She wasn’t at all sure Vince would be okay with it, though she didn’t live her life for him entirely.… Her son liked Sal, she knew that. Would he like Nick?
Oh hell, it was complicated, but she needed to see that Sal was really going to be okay.
That was what mattered.
He tried to smile and didn’t quite succeed, but it touched her anyway. He said, “I like the dress. Looks good on you.”
Form-fitting and dark blue, above the knee, with a hint of white at the lining of the bodice … she liked it too. “I designed it.”
“I guessed that already.”
She crossed over and kissed him. Not on the mouth, but with long lingering pressure on his cheek while she caressed his good shoulder. “How are you doing?”
He felt solid, male, and best of all … alive. He said, “Pretty good.”
“Let’s make a pact to never go through that again. Deal?”
Sal reached across and caught her hand. “Deal. Sit here on the bed with me, not in the chair.”
She did as he asked, though his tall body took up most of the space. He interlocked their fingers. “Fattelli out there waiting for you?”
“No. I came alone.”
“You shouldn’t.” He was dead serious. “They could come after you in other ways. Blow up your car, your house.… Please tell me you’re staying with someone else.”
“I’m going to stay with my sister for a few days.”
“Why not stay with him?”
“That suggestion from you of all people?” Reign lifted her brows.
“You’d be safer.” Sal’s fingers tightened. “If this has anything to do with your father, they could go after her too. Or Vince. It’s good he’s in Long Island right now. Sounds like he’s having fun.”
That startled her. “You talked to him?”
“After the shooting at your house. He obviously knew nothing about it and I didn’t tell him either. I like the kid. I was just checking in.”
Because his father wasn’t there for him, you stepped in. Reign’s fingers tightened a little around his also. “That was nice of you. He’ll hear about it eventually, but I just don’t want to ruin his vacation. It isn’t like he’s unaware of the Life and certainly knows his grandfather is in jail and why, but I’ve done my best to give him a fairly normal childhood.”
“He’s eighteen, Reign. That means no longer a child.”
Not new information. She was still adjusting to the idea of her son moving out one day. She’d essentially been a single parent most of his life, so the bond was very close.
She essayed a bright smile. “Yes, I know. He’s like you, though, going off to college. It’s going to cost me a fortune. Did I tell you I’m being considered for a design position with a firm that handles clothing lines for a major chain? Might be the right time to score that job. I love boutique design and unique pieces, but having my own brand? That’s a dream of mine.”
His eyes reflected that he completely understood. “How amazing.” Then he visibly winced. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
“Make his dad pay half.”
She shook her head. “The less we have to do with Ray, the better. I think Vince has learned the hard way to agree with my point of view.”
Sal’s eyes closed briefly. “I remember that day when I had to make a choice, but I suppose this is the life I know. I took it to the middle of the road. I’m in, but not like Fattelli. He’s very old school. From Sicily. You do realize that, right?”
“I am sleeping with him and that’s about it.”
“Ouch.” Sal loosened his grip on her hand.
“You okay?” In alarm, she stood. “Should I call the nurse?”
“No, not the problem.”
“Sal,”—her voice held a tone of rueful amusement—“did you think I would suddenly become a nun? He’s … interesting.”
“And very good-looking and Italian. I get it.”
“So are you.” She smiled again, but she was fairly sure it was strained this time. “It’s pretty unlikely he’ll fall in love with me, that’s the difference. I’m not thinking that’s his style.”
Sal was getting tired. She could see it in his face, and hell, the man had been shot twice. It seemed like everyone, including him, thought that maybe he’d taken those bullets even though they were meant for her.
“You’re too guarded,” he muttered.
“Only because once, I wasn’t guarded enough.” She gently pulled her hand from his. “Listen, I think you should get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow. I brought your cell phone.” She fished it out of her purse and set it on the table by the bed. “It must have fallen out of your pocket on the boat. Call me if you need anything.”
“Stay with Fattelli.” He didn’t as much as glance at the phone.
She murmured, “I’ll think about it, but he actually hasn’t asked me. Look, I’ve got to go to work.”
Chapter
ELEVEN
How the hell could he convince her?
Nick rubbed his jaw and contemplated his strategy. His apartment had been selected for both the prestigious address and the safety advantages: controlled entry and easy escape possibilities. Reign’s house, on the other hand, was on a nice residential street.
Her vulnerability bothered him, and in general he didn’t allow that in his life. The upgraded alarm system was going to be helpful, but it was a completely different scenario if a person understood the threat. He knew—no one knew better—that no one could protect himself all the time.
He pushed a button on his phone. Denton’s secretary answered and put him right through. “You hear about Ariano?”
The other man said, “Enough to make me leery of the company of Ms. Grazi right now.”
“But still no one is talking about it?”
“About it, yes. But if anyone knows anything they are keeping it to themselves. We’re all puzzled, Fattelli. First a try at a Grazi, then someone almost takes out an Ariano. Logic tells me maybe the Grazi family blamed the Ariano family for the first hit attempt and retaliated, but my gut tells me that there is a third party involved.”
Nick’s instincts were in agreement. “You owe me, so keep me posted, okay?”
He hung up and, after a brief hesitation, pushed another button. When she answered, he said abruptly, “Dinner tonight?”
“A ‘hello’ might be welcome. Not the smoothest invitation ever, Fattelli.”
He knew she was at her studio. It wasn’t actually that far from where he had his office. He glanced out the window, tapped a key on his computer to send an e-mail, and tried again with exaggerated politeness.
“Ms. Grazi, I think you are the most enchanting creature on this planet, and if you would have dinner with me this evening, I would be honored.”
“This isn’t 1815, but that is better. I’m still at my studio. I’ve got something to finish up and then I need to go and change. I’m still staying with my sister.”
He thought uneasily about her phone, her studio, and her sister’s house. “We’ll go have a drink or something first. Leave your cell behind, okay? You might want to change purses.”
“What? Why?”
“It could have a passenger. I’m wondering how the hell they found you on that yacht. All I said was that I was bringing a date. It’s been bothering me.”
“A what? Oh fuck, really? Now you sound like Sal. Am I putting Maria in danger?”
“Maybe. But if so, if someone is looking for you, they are already aware of the location.”
Silence. Then she asked, “Is there some new information?”
“No. I’ve just been thinking about it, asking around a little bit.” And he had been thinking. All day, staring moodily out the window instead of caring about what was happening on Wall Street. He was doing that now, watching the traffic crawl along, his focus elsewhere.
“What about my son?”
Good question. If he were in her position, he’d wonder about that too. “I don’t think he’s the target. If this was a revenge deal, they’d have gone after him already.”
“That’s reassuring,” she muttered. “I’m a mother. Unless you have kids, you have no idea how much you’re scaring me.”
“It’s a big bad world out there, but I think it’s you they want. Tell him to stay in Long Island for a while. That possible?”
He might have added he knew for certain she was the target, since he’d been approached to take her out.
She said abruptly, “I’ll get another phone to call Vince and give him the number.”
“Not necessary. I know people. I’ll get you a new phone, and I might carry yours myself for a while, just to see what happens.”
“Shit, Nick, don’t challenge them.”
“Ms. Grazi, I’m interested in warning them. Got it?”
There was a slight pause. “I do get it.”
“Be ready about six?”
“I was planning on staying late but I can finish what I’m doing tomorrow.”
When he ended the call, he checked his Glock, slipped it into his shoulder holster, and put on his tailored dark gray suit jacket. The ingrained habit of always wearing a suit came from his father, along with the legacy of his occupation. He looked professional because he was.
Both occupations.
Forty minutes later, he pulled up to her office building—he got out of the car as Reign came out of the glass doors, his gaze brushing over the street, assessing each vehicle parked there, his hand slipping into his jacket.
Just in case.
But he didn’t sense or see anything out of the ordinary—so when she came down the steps, he went around and politely opened the passenger door. “Nice evening for a date.”
“Is that what this is? A date?” She slanted him a sardonic glance before she got in. “You know how I like a man with a weapon.”
He laughed. Reign had a lot of noticeable qualities, but her sense of humor was right up there. “Then you’re in luck. I have two.”
“Uhm, sounds promising.”
She was wearing a strapless sheath in black and really, really had the body for it. Reign caught his appreciative stare as he started the car and lifted her bare shoulders. “I just assumed this would not be a pizza night. I had about two minutes to change. Luckily, I just finished this dress last week and my assistant is a wizard with her sewing machine.”
“You assumed right. You look … great.”
She did, hands down. Those beautiful breasts were displayed in a manner that both tantalized and captured a little too much of his attention. Her cleavage alone might cause an accident. He needed to look away.
Focus.
* * *
“Thank you.”
“Here.” He handed her the burner phone and pulled away. “Until we figure all this out. Give me yours.”
“Sure.”
“Let me call Vince.” The set of her mouth spoke even more than the tension in her body. When the brief conversation was over, Reign visibly relaxed. “He’s going to stay at the beach house with his friend. The family gets it.… We’ve known them for years.”
“Your sister?”
“Decided to visit a friend in the Hamptons.” Her smile was ironic. “The timing couldn’t be better. I totally encouraged her to go. Maria works too hard anyway. A long walk on the beach and cocktails on the veranda would do her good.”
“Smart girl. So you’re all on your own?”
“Somewhat.”
“Not anymore.”
Reign sent him a look. “Oh?”
“We’re just getting started.… How about you stay at my place?” He negligently shrugged. “For a week or so. Good food, great sex, what’s to hate?”
“I hope, Fattelli, you’ll be providing the food?” She deliberately stretched out those glorious legs.
“If you provide the sex, sure.”
Reign gave a muffled laugh. “I meant that you aren’t expecting me to stay with you and wait on you hand and foot.”
“Neither my hand or foot are all that interested. My dick, on the other hand—”
“Yes, I kind of guessed that.” She sat up a little, her profile suddenly remote. “I truly do not know what is happening. Do you believe me?”
He did. “Absolutely.” He didn’t know either. That was the problem. Not that she was lying, but she had the key to the lock and just couldn’t put her finger on it yet.
“How often does that happen?”
The Bentley rode smoothly around a corner. He’d loved how the car handled from the minute he’d taken it out for a test drive. He took a minute to answer. “How often does a target not have any idea who is coming after them? I don’t know. I’ve never taken a survey.”
She said softly, “That wasn’t the question. I wanted to know if you believed me.”
* * *
Reign was trusting a man who couldn’t be trusted. With her life. It was still surreal to think she’d been a witness to two shootings in such a short span of time, and the sight of Sal in that hospital bed had shaken her to the core. It was all happening too fast, and she didn’t really know where to turn. At least Nick was willing to take care of her.
Wait, amend the statement. Was it just the sex?
He’d saved her life once before, so maybe she was being judgmental, and maybe the attraction was part of the problem.… But still.
Nick looked fantastic, but he usually did. Gray suit, red tie, dark hair just ruffled a shade more than fashionable, his blue eyes shadowed as he escorted her into the bar. It was dark, but the wall with all the bottles was illuminated, and he settled into a seat with a diffident air she was sure would not last. Then, without asking, he ordered them both Johnnie Black on the rocks.
Okay, big conversation coming.
All her life she’d dealt with alpha males. She knew the signs.
“Let’s talk about it and then just have a nice evening,” he told her, resting his arm on the polished surface of the bar.
Yes, big one. The bartender set a glass down in front of each of them.
“Tell me more about your ex.” Nick’s gaze was straightforward. “Could all this be him?”
“No. He was a dishonest asshole and I divorced him. End of story.” Reign took a drink and gave him back a challenging look. “What about you? Ever been married?”
“No. Back to my question. How bitter was the divorce?”
“If you are suggesting he could be the one who fired those shots … I really doubt it. And he’s far too cheap to pay someone to kill me. Besides, he doesn’t care enough to bother. Trust me on that point. Besides, he’d never risk pissing off the Ariano family.”
“You sound sure.”
“Because I am sure. I know the animal.”
“What does your son think about your attitude toward his father?”
“That’s a fairly personal question, Nicky. And it isn’t an attitude, but an observation.”
He quirked a brow. “I think you and I have been fairly up close and personal before, and I’m kind of hoping it will happen again.”
She gazed at him. “Like tonight. I’m kind of looking f
orward to it myself.”
“So nice we get along.”
So nice he was there, with those wide shoulders and a protective air she found a little surprising but was welcome, if she admitted it. Between him and Sal she was feeling a little bit … cherished.
Except for that person who apparently had contracted a hit on her.
Soft music played in the background. Something jazzy, no lyrics, just instrumental. The bar was filling up and she noted that Nick took a look at every single person who entered the place. It was well done and casual, and if she hadn’t been sensitive to it she might not even have noticed he was that good, but yes, he was watching.
And pretty much every woman that walked in at least glanced at him. Why not? He was handsome and polished and even the way he lifted his drink to his mouth was somehow sensual.
She considered him. “Ever even thought about getting married? Surely you’re … hmm, I don’t even know how old you are.”
“Never said.” He laughed lightly. “But you didn’t ask either.”
“If I asked?”
“I might tell you the truth, but only because I’m trying to get you into bed again. It doesn’t matter, does it? You would never know unless you were able to get a copy of my birth certificate, now would you?”
“All the way from Sicily?”
“Might be a bit of a problem. How do you know that?”
“Sal told me.”
“He has a big mouth. How was he when you visited him?”
Reign remembered his ashen color, but also the strong grip of his hand. “Doing pretty well. He told me to stay with you. He’s jealous, but worried about me.”
“What a coincidence, I’m jealous but worried about you too.” Nick ran his finger along the rim of his glass. The lighting sent shadows along his cheekbones. “All right. I’m thirty-seven going on about a hundred and thirty-seven. I was born in Sicily and my parents brought me here really young. Now it is your turn. Give me something personal about you.”
“This is like a date.”
“Only I’m not just pretending to be interested to get you into bed. I really want to know you.”
Reign finished her drink—she noticed he was a bit slower about his—and said provocatively, “You aren’t trying to get me into bed?”
Playing with Fire Page 10
