“Hello, beautiful.” His voice was smooth and mellow and deep.
“Right back at you.” Reign kept it light. “I’m heading to the hospital because they are releasing Sal today. How about when he’s settled in, we’ll go on our visit, and later, out to dinner? My treat.”
“I never let a lady pay.”
“Then I’ll invite someone else.” Her voice was silky smooth. “My invitation, my party.”
“Maybe I can make an exception just this once.”
“For me? I’m flattered.”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Are we still talking food here?”
Reign had to laugh. “Yes, still talking restaurants.”
“We’ll discuss when I pick you up, okay?”
Almost … almost, she insisted she would drive, but he did have a very beautiful car and she could leave her vehicle at Sal’s complex, and besides, independent was fine, but militant was unnecessary, in her opinion. She said, “I’ll call with the address.”
* * *
Sal sat on the edge of the bed.
The nurse had given him a bunch of instructions that he duly noted and signed the papers that verified he’d been told, but he was pretty grateful when Reign came into the room. “Here,” he said, “if you don’t mind, read this over and remind me once we are out of here what I’m supposed to do. I’m crawling up the walls. The doctor just has to come in and sign me out.”
She took the papers and her eyes were amused. “I thought paperwork was your thing, Counselor.”
“Don’t laugh at me. I’m still pretty sore.” Luckily he’d remembered to ask his mother to bring him some clothes that were not covered in blood before her visit the day before, and he was about the same size as his father. Currently it looked like he belonged to a very prestigious country club from the insignia on the shirt he wore, and though he would never have chosen the khaki slacks himself, it was still better than his other option.
“I’m sorry.” Reign brushed back her hair in a movement he recognized. Her green eyes did hold regret. “There’s a part of me that wonders if somehow this isn’t my fault, but I don’t see how.”
Today there was no form-fitting blue dress, but she wore a lacy blouse of some kind over a camisole and white skirt, and the contrast to her dark coloring was striking, but she always seemed to be able to pull that off, which just might be why she was in fashion. A career very important to her. He was starting to realize—in his heart of hearts—that what he wanted was not what she wanted. It was painful, but sometimes staring at the truth was better than pushing it aside.
The phrase “love hurts” wasn’t exactly comforting, but it had been coined by a realist somewhere apparently.
“Mr. Ariano. Good morning.”
Sal tore his gaze from Reign’s poignant expression and tried to be at least a little smooth when the doctor walked into the room. “Dr. Altea, thank God. They have actually promised I’m getting out of this joint.”
Today she was back to the scrubs and no-nonsense ponytail, which was a far cry from the last time he’d seen her, but she had a wholesome beauty he found attractive.
“Interesting choice of words.”
She didn’t like his ties to organized crime. Fine. He hadn’t asked for her approval. But she did have a nice body. A little on the tall side maybe, but firm and athletic and her hair held an unusual sheen of gold with the brown.
“I’m going to write you a conservative prescription for pain medication.” She sat down with a clipboard in a bedside chair. “I want to see you in a week for a follow-up so the wounds can be supervised and cleaned, and unless you have other concerns, I believe I will sign this release.”
“What about sex?”
“Excuse me?” Dr. Altea looked startled.
Sal had to admit his head also swiveled on that one, since he wasn’t the one who’d spoken.
Reign, still holding the papers he’d handed her, just looked bland. “I meant … can he?”
“I suppose so, if he feels up to it.” Dr. Altea clicked her pen and set it aside. “There’s nothing wrong with that part of his anatomy, but he might still be a bit weak. Just don’t get too carried away.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean me and him.… Is that proper English? I think it is. I meant him and you. Now that just doesn’t sound right either. Pronouns are annoying.” Reign waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Are you interested? It kind of seems to me like you are, and while I was waiting, one of the nurses got a little gossipy. She seemed to think you’d be pleased to know Sal and I are just friends.”
The two women eyed each other and suddenly—it was like an out-of-body experience—Sal felt like he was not in the room.
He muttered in protest and nudged her. “Reign, what are you doing?”
They ignored him, still looking at each other.
“I don’t know. Is he a good lover?” Dr. Altea—he didn’t even know her first name—smiled with a hint of challenge, apparently picking up the gauntlet.
“Oh yeah.” Reign smiled back, her green eyes narrowed. “Very good.”
That he was currently speechless in this conversation didn’t escape him, but he really couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
He’d just strangle Reign in the car on the way home.
“Scale of one to ten?” The doctor raised her brows. They were nice too. He didn’t like them plucked down to a line, but untidy wasn’t his thing either. Hers were just right: finely arched but visible.
“Really up there, and I’m a pretty tough judge.” Reign was never one to let something go. “I don’t need to ask if you are interested, since I already know you are. Take him out for a test drive sometime.”
“For some reason, I thought you two might be involved.”
“Were. Were involved. So I can speak with some authority on the subject.”
It cut, but then again, he’d known in myriad ways it was over. That, and for her general safety, was why he’d advised that she stay with Fattelli. He tried again, “Can I interject something here?”
They answered in sync. “No.”
The doctor asked, “He put the lid down?”
Reign said with a slight hint of sardonic amusement, “Not reliably, but he always flushes and washes his hands, and truthfully, he doesn’t snore.”
“That’s huge right there.” Dr. Altea laughed. “I’m considering it.”
Reign’s voice changed tone. Quietly, she said one of the most bittersweet things he’d ever heard in his life. “Sal is a true nice guy. Thoughtful, sweet, handsome … he’s every girl’s dream—but we all look for our perfect fit, and sometimes it isn’t that perfection we dream of.”
“Very eloquent, Ms. Grazi.” The doctor gave Sal a brief glance that he fully returned. “In the meantime,” she added in measured tones, “he needs to rest and not overly exert himself and take the wound-care instructions seriously.”
“He takes everything seriously.” Reign got up and slipped her purse under her arm. “I’m going to wait outside while you wrap this up. I assume he’s leaving by wheelchair, so I’ll bring the car around. This might be time for the two of you to decide what happens next.”
There was, beyond a doubt, a somewhat awkward silence once Reign left. Sal finally said, “She has a slightly unique personality.”
“Slightly?” Dr. Altea added on a dark murmur, “And the nurses around here have big mouths.”
He lifted his shoulders. “I don’t even know what kind of comment to make, so maybe we should just let it go.”
“Or talk about it.” Dr. Altea took in a breath. “I honestly can’t think of a less likely couple than a third-year resident in a prestigious program at one of the best hospitals in the country and a lawyer that I am fairly sure is going to use his skills to help out his family with organized-crime charges. It’s ridiculous. It takes it to a new level. I’m from Minnesota.”
Sal burst into laughter and it hurt. He clutched his si
de. “Minnesota? What does that have to do with anything?”
Her lips were pink with only a hint of gloss and very tempting. She laughed with him. “I’m not sure, but St. Paul is not New York City.”
“Like that is new information.”
She sobered and sighed. “I do think you are an attractive, nice guy. The mob tie sets me back, and my schedule is so crazy it turns off almost every single man I meet. I don’t know if I can do anything besides sign off on your release papers and pretend I never met you.”
“Or just have dinner with me.”
“You are hardly up for a night out. Clear liquids and—”
“I couldn’t agree more. In the future?” He was tired and hardly dinner-partner material, but things were looking up. Maybe not with Reign, but he knew some time ago that ship had sailed.
“Maybe.”
Not a “no,” anyway.
Her eyes were such a lovely shade of topaz. “I’m looking forward to it,” he told her.
“I’ll write my cell number on your release orders. Call me when you feel up to it, but not before, got it?” She stood.
He said, “I got it.”
Chapter
FIFTEEN
It was jarring with the clanging doors, guards, and institutional paint.… Reign hated it. She liked to make the world beautiful. Her house was decorated in rich tones: reds and browns and deep blues, and a touch of amber here and there. This would drive her over the edge.
Her father looked maybe a little older each time, but just as handsome as ever and his smile was the one Reign remembered from childhood, warm and charismatic. They faced each other through the glass and she picked up the phone. “Hi.”
Very father-like, the first thing he said was, “Who’s your friend, sweetheart?”
Was it parental concern or perhaps self-preservation? She couldn’t be sure.
“Nick Fattelli.” She said it succinctly. “He says you’ve never met.”
“True. But I think I’ve heard that name before.”
“He’s got a few questions, and by the way, before I forget, Maria says hi. She’s coming to see you next week.”
Reign adored her father. For whatever his faults—and every single person had them—he was genuinely a caring man. “I’ve missed her,” he said, his voice a wisp. “Where’s Vince?”
“Out of harm’s way. On Long Island with friends. Talk to Nick.”
She moved aside, relinquishing the phone. Nick gave her a sidelong look and then took it, settling in the seat. “Mr. Grazi. It’s an honor.”
“I do know your name. Chicago, right?”
Nick nodded. “I thought you might recognize it. I’m taking good care of her, but … we have an interesting situation. On two different occasions there have been shootings in her vicinity and I can’t tell you that she wasn’t supposed to be the target. If you have thoughts, I’d love to hear any or all of them.”
Swiftly, Nick related how he’d been approached, and then he described both shootings in an oblique way that only implied what was going on, but her father got it fast enough.
He frowned. “I have enemies, but I also have friends. I can’t see how striking back at me through my little girl would gain anyone anything but a load of trouble.”
“What about her ex-husband? She says no.”
“I agree. If Ray was going to swing that way, he would have done something years ago, and besides, he knows better. He’d never be seen again. We’ve had that conversation and I promise you, he knows I mean it.”
It was Nick’s turn to rub his jaw. “I was kind of hoping you could point me in the right direction.”
“Oh, I’ll ask the people who would know, believe me.”
Nick said evenly, “She’s staying with me for now.”
“I appreciate it.” Her father’s voice was grim. “Take good care of her.”
“No problem, sir. I’ve been doing my best.”
Nick got up and handed her the phone again. Reign sat back down and said, “I got the design offer I wanted. My own line with my name on it for a prestigious retailer.”
“Baby, congratulations.”
“Thanks.… I’m pretty happy.”
“Yeah, well stay happy. Let Fattelli handle this situation, agreed?”
It was hard not to be surprised. Her father was shrewd about people. In fact, he’d told her many times that it was fine to like a stranger, but you were a fool to ever trust one. “I’m pretty self-sufficient,” she said slowly. “Always have been, remember?”
“That only works if you know the enemy.” Her father’s knuckles were white, he was holding the receiver so tightly. “Listen to me. I’ve heard about him. He’s good at what he does, but … there’s a code, right? That means something right there. That he bothered to come see me is impressive, and that you let him means even more to me. We all make mistakes, but you are a smart girl and always have been. What have I always told you? Use your gut. If he seems on the level, then his particular talents are to your advantage.”
Her thoughts exactly, though it had taken her considerably longer to come to that conclusion than this short conversation.
“I’ll take that advice under consideration.” She gently placed the receiver back in the cradle. Every single time she left she felt like crying and this time was no different. She lifted her chin and fought the emotion.
The fences, the towers … God. She couldn’t wait to get away, and somehow that felt traitorous.
Reign glanced over at Nick in the car as they pulled away. “So?”
“So?” His expression was neutral. “I thought you were taking me out to dinner. I believe you insisted.”
He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine, she really didn’t either.
He did look very nice in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks, and she’d chosen something crimson and slinky. “Le Château. We have reservations.”
“Sounds fabulous. How many strings did you have to pull for that one?”
“A few. I hope you like French food.”
“If I’m having dinner with you, a fast food hamburger would be fine. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Reign had to admit she didn’t really expect the question. “Tell you? About what?”
“The clothing-line deal.” His gaze was focused on the traffic, but she got the impression he was very much paying attention to her reaction. He was affronted on some level too. Hurt? It was hard to tell. Was it even possible to hurt a man like him?
Nick was like that. She’d already figured out that what you saw was not what you got.
And Sal had called her guarded?
“I was going to tell you over a glass of fine French wine and an appetizer that probably included escargot or Brie or something.”
His wide shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“But,” she said quietly, “I don’t see my father that often and he has always encouraged me in my career. I told Maria first. She’s not just my sister but my best friend. Then I needed to tell him next. He worries about us.”
“And he’s inside, so he can’t take care of you.”
“Something like that, I suppose.”
“I get it.” His expression said he did.
“Did your father ever do time?” She had to admit she was curious about his family. It had started to get dark, the sky deepening to purple above the city.
“No.”
This was Nick. He said nothing else, which didn’t surprise her. The masculine symmetry of his features was highlighted by the growing dusk and streetlights. His wavy hair brushed his collar.
It was the first—very startling—moment that Reign realized she might fall in love with him.
That wasn’t her. She didn’t fall in love. Sal didn’t count. Who wouldn’t fall in love with an idealistic man who was not only beautiful outside but also beautiful inside? Had she realized before their affair started that he was going to be so involved, she never would have allowed it.
It wasn’t li
ke Ray either. It had taken a while to admit it to herself, but his easy charm was superficial. He’d wanted to get her into bed, and he’d wanted to have a connection to her family. She’d just been too young and inexperienced to realize her ex-husband was shallow and self-centered, and just because someone said they loved you didn’t mean it was the truth. In a way, she was grateful to him, though that sounded ridiculous, but the man had truly made her grow up very fast, and she was a better mother for it.
Nick was hardly idealistic and didn’t pretend to be.
Quite the opposite.
A hard realist with instincts that made a barracuda look cuddly, and a rock-hard approach to life that didn’t give an inch of space if he didn’t want to let it go.
She’d met men like him before—or had she? Of his ilk, maybe, but no one quite like him.
“My father liked you.” She said the words to him, but looked straight out the windshield instead of at him.
“You sound surprised.” Nick looked amused, expertly guiding the car into a different lane. “That’s not exactly flattering.”
“He doesn’t like everyone,” Reign informed him. “As a matter of fact, you should plaster a medal on your chest he even chose to talk to you.”
“Any man courting another man’s daughter has to face that firing squad.”
She finally turned her head and considered him from the passenger seat. “For someone who is living in this day and age, you choose some interesting language. Does anyone court anymore? I think we’ve done a bit beyond that.”
* * *
She had a point, but Reign needed to understand he’d grown up with pretty old-fashioned beliefs. His mother would never be anything but pure Sicilian, and his father would skin him alive if he ever treated a woman with less than the utmost respect—God rest his soul.
An interesting standard, true, but a standard nonetheless.
Honor was always a non-negotiable facet to every personality. Nick thought it was probably as varied as the human species. He said, “We’ve slept together but that is entirely different from me courting you.”
“Now we are really slipping back into the dark ages. You don’t need to court me.”
Playing with Fire Page 13
