Joanna burst out laughing. "Maybe he's looking to add one."
Francesca couldn't help but laugh with her. "I don't think so."
"You are beautiful, Francesca," Joanna said, sobering. "Really, really beautiful. Your face is flawless. None of those models have anything on you. Your face. Your hair."
"My lovely figure," Francesca said sarcastically. "I'm not a size zero."
"You have a lovely figure. I've always been envious of that tiny waist."
Joanna was tall and willow thin. She easily could have been a model. She liked food and ate more than Francesca could imagine any woman eating without gaining weight, but she just didn't. Every one of their college friends envied her.
"I don't gain in my waist, just up top or my bottom. No pizza for me." Francesca loved pizza, and they were going out for her first Chicago pizza. Joanna told her the best place was right there in the Ferraro neighborhood. That's what she referred to it as--the Ferraro territory or neighborhood--as if they owned it all. Maybe they did. At least the buildings.
"You're going to eat pizza," Joanna said. "You won't be able to resist. This place makes the best. It's orgasmic."
Francesca burst out laughing again. "You're so crazy." Her smile faded. "Joanna. Seriously. Thank you. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay you. I felt so hopeless and I was terrified all the time." She was still terrified, but not so hopeless. And Joanna made her remember friendship, family and laughter.
"Don't be absurd. I'm so glad you've come. I have friends here, but not a bestie. You're my total bestie. In any case, you repaid me already. I have Giovanni Ferraro's card and I can skip the line and get into the club or call him."
Francesca smiled. "There you go. I'm good for getting you into clubs." She glanced at her watch. "I've got to get back to work. I'll wipe everything down and clean up for the next shift. Pietro should be back by then."
Joanna waited for her and they walked out together, Francesca wrapped in Stefano Ferraro's long cashmere coat. She'd considered leaving it in her apartment, but she didn't dare. Her apartment wasn't very safe. The lock was tricky and sometimes didn't actually lock. She'd told the owner and he'd promised to put a new lock in, but she wasn't leaving that coat where someone could walk in and steal it. Who knew that the responsibility of a coat would make her a little crazy?
It seemed silly to carry the overcoat to work, when it would keep her warm, so she wore it, inhaling Stefano's scent with every breath she took. She hung it carefully in Pietro's office rather than in the employees' little break room. Pietro didn't mind. In fact, he seemed happy that she was keeping the coat in his office.
She plunged her hand in the pocket. The money was there. All of it. She hadn't counted it, but she had a feeling she might faint when she found out how much he'd left her. "Where are we going, Joanna? I thought you said the pizza place was the opposite way?" They were heading away from Ferraro territory and the pizza parlor was deeper into it. They'd gone three long blocks, all businesses. Two streets over she knew residences started. They passed her apartment building. It marked the very edge of the Ferraro neighborhood and the next block was rather like her building, shabby in comparison.
"There's only one shoe shop open this late unless we go to the big mall and then we'd have to take the bus."
Francesca halted. "I don't know if I want to spend the money on shoes. Seriously, Joanna, I'd have to pay it back and I have to be careful so I can pay the rent. Having a roof over my head is more important than anything else right now. And I can try to find shoes . . ."
"Don't say it. You aren't going to find shoes at a thrift shop. No way. You aren't putting your feet into something someone's put their feet into."
"Seriously? Joanna, I don't have any money. I can't afford to be picky right now. If Stefano Ferraro is going to lose his mind because I didn't buy shoes and get all mad and punch out his brother, then I need to find a pair of shoes, but I don't have to spend his money on them."
"Punch out his brother?" Joanna echoed. "Did Giovanni say Stefano would punch him out?"
Francesca shrugged. "Something like that. He mentioned not wanting a broken nose."
"Oh. My. God. I'm falling even more in love with the Ferraro brothers. All of them. They're so hot. And cool. And gorgeous. I can perv on them for like forever." She caught Francesca's arm. "Here. This shop. Let's just go in. You can see if you can find something you like."
Francesca couldn't help herself. She was sick of having freezing feet, wet socks and toes that were numb from the icy cold. Once again her hand crept into the pocket to the neatly folded bills. She took a deep breath and nodded. It was an insane thing to do, owe Stefano money, but the temptation when her feet were killing her after standing on them all day was more than she could pass up.
It was embarrassing to try on shoes when hers were in such horrible condition. Joanna knew the manager and chatted all the while, allowing Francesca to remain silent. She couldn't look at the man. He was good-looking and flirted outrageously with Joanna. Apparently they'd gone to high school together. It took Francesca a few minutes before she realized Joanna was deliberately distracting him, knowing how embarrassed Francesca was over the state of her shoes. She felt very, very lucky to have such a good friend.
Shoving her wet socks into her wet shoes, she hastily pulled on the warm, dry socks Joanna handed her. Clearly, along with shoes, Joanna expected her to buy thicker socks. Having made up her mind, Francesca didn't waste time arguing. She pulled them on and then allowed the salesman to help her into the boots that had caught her eye. They were lined and felt like a miracle on her feet. They actually fit and when she stood up in them and walked around the store, she had to resist making noises that might have sounded a bit on the orgasmic side. She was so taking the boots. She didn't even care that they cost more than every article of clothing that she owned put together.
"I'm going to wear them out of the store," she announced. "You can throw my old shoes away, socks and all."
Joanna laughed. "That's the spirit. A splurge is definitely in order."
Francesca pulled the money from the pocket of the coat and walked with the salesman and Joanna to the counter. Every single step was heaven. Keeping her hands below the counter, so the salesman wouldn't see, she counted out the bills. Most were hundreds. There were a few twenties and two tens. She knew the color left her face and her heart nearly stopped beating before it began pounding.
She caught Joanna's arm and dragged her away from the counter. "Oh. My. God. Joanna. There's over a thousand dollars here. I've been walking around with that kind of cash in the pocket of the coat. What was he thinking?"
Joanna gawked at her. "Are you sure?"
Francesca nodded slowly. "Positive. I counted twice." She glanced toward the counter. The salesman was watching them closely.
"Is something wrong?"
For the first time, Francesca glanced at his name tag. Mario Bandoni was totally into Joanna. Even though he was asking Francesca if something was wrong, he was looking at Joanna with a softness in his eyes.
"No," Joanna answered for them. She snatched two of the hundred dollar bills from Francesca. "We'll take a couple more pairs of socks as well."
"Joanna," Francesca protested.
Joanna ignored her and handed the money to Mario. He flashed her a grin, disregarding Francesca's protest as well.
"You going to write your phone number down?" he asked Joanna.
Francesca walked across the room to stare out into the gathering dusk. There were two men standing just off to one side of the store talking together. A couple walked by, the man glancing over his shoulder warily several times at the two men still talking. Francesca realized she'd never seen a hint of nervousness when she'd walked home from work the night before, or when she'd walked to the deli in the morning.
She wondered at a family who could protect their territory so well that the residents felt that safe, even in the middle of a city. Pulling Stefano's coat closer aroun
d her gave her a strange sense of security. It shouldn't. He was a terrifying man. She didn't understand why he would give her a thousand dollars so casually. He didn't know her. For all he knew she would go on a shopping spree at his expense. She knew, now that Joanna was aware how much cash she had, that Joanna would try to talk her into buying decent clothes. She'd probably insist they go to the club.
"Where are you two heading?" Mario asked.
"Petrov's Pizzeria" Joanna said. "I plan on impressing Francesca with the best pizza in the world, although I didn't make reservations. I'm counting on Tito letting us in. He always finds me a table."
"Best pizza ever." Mario flashed a grin at Joanna.
"We're also thinking about hitting the Ferraros' club this weekend," Joanna said. "I've got a go-to-the-front-of-the-line pass. Do you like to dance?"
He laughed at her. "Joanna, come on. Who was the king of dancing in school?"
She wrote down her number. "Call me. We'll set something up." Waving her hand, she pulled open the door and they went back outside. She leaned into Francesca. "I'm so going to get lucky. I've always crushed on Mario. Always. He's so sweet. And I have to tell you, the man can dance like no one's business."
"Only you can walk into a shoe store and come out with a date," Francesca observed. "You could in college and apparently you're still as hot as ever. I don't think the man could describe me even if someone asked him to. He had eyes only for you."
"That's not true."
Francesca laughed. "Don't deny it. You've always been a man magnet, at least as long as I've known you. I'll bet you were the prom queen."
"You know I was, so you can't bet on that," Joanna protested, pushing at Francesca.
A hand caught Francesca's coat from behind, whirled her around and slammed her so hard against the wall the breath was knocked out of her. She felt the hot burn of something against her throat. A man held her tightly, one arm shoved against her chest, the other holding the edge of a knife to her throat. She knew he'd made a very shallow cut there because not only did it burn but she felt the trickle of blood.
She should have thought about dying, but all she could think about, rather hysterically, was that she couldn't get blood on Stefano's coat. He loved that coat. He'd made a big deal about her returning the coat. She should never have worn it anywhere. Joanna let out a shocked scream that was hastily cut off. Francesca could see a second man with his arm around her throat and a hand over her mouth.
"Give me the money, bitch, or you're dead," the man with the knife snapped at Francesca. "Right now. Give it to me."
She was going to owe Stefano a new cashmere overcoat that had to have cost what a car might, as well as over a thousand dollars. She had stupidly counted the money in front of the window of the store. She'd been so careful not to let Mario see the wad of cash, but she hadn't thought about the window.
She couldn't think what to do. She couldn't let him have the coat or the money. She couldn't get blood on the coat. She started to struggle, which was the absolute stupidest thing she could have done, but she was more afraid of owing Stefano Ferraro than of having the mugger slit her throat.
One moment her assailant had a knife against her neck and the next he was on the ground and the knife was in the hands of a big, burly man. Her savior looked furious. He wasn't alone, either. His companion, looking every bit as scary, held a gun on the other man. He'd gently pulled Joanna to one side and then put her behind him, away from their assailants.
The first man, the one who had removed the knife, handed Francesca a handkerchief. She pressed it against the cut.
"Are you all right?" he asked. He kept a foot on her assailant's neck, not allowing him to get up off the sidewalk. He wasn't gentle about it, either. "I'm Emilio Gallo. That's my brother, Enzo."
Francesca pressed back against the building, very, very scared. No, terrified. This was her worst nightmare, to bring trouble to Joanna.
"We work for the Ferraro family," Emilio continued, obviously trying to reassure her. "Cousins. First cousins." He kept trying to soothe her, not realizing he was making it worse. "What were they after?"
The moment she heard who they worked for, Francesca tore the coat from her back and tried to shove it at Emilio. "Take it. Really. You have to take it. Take the coat to him."
Emilio didn't move. He stayed as still as a statue, one fist closed around the knife, the other hand down at his side. Both men stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
Joanna moved cautiously around Enzo to put her arm around Francesca. "Honey, it was just a robbery. That's all. Put the coat back on. You're shaking like a leaf. Here, let me help you." She took the coat from Francesca and held it out for Francesca to slip her arms back in. "There, honey, that will keep you warm." Joanna smiled at their rescuers. "Do you want me to call 911 and report this?"
"You go along. Another team will pick you up so you'll be safe. Mr. Ferraro will want to speak to these gentlemen in person."
Emilio was soft-spoken, but Francesca wasn't fooled. The two men were in a lot more trouble than they would have been if the police were called. A dark town car pulled to the curb, and Enzo shoved one mugger inside before Emilio dragged the one up off the ground and shoved him in. Francesca found it significant that neither of the muggers was tied up, yet they didn't attempt to fight; instead, they looked very scared.
Francesca's gaze clung to Joanna's, but she spoke to Emilio. "You aren't going to kill them, are you?" She couldn't keep the quaver from her voice.
"Francesca," Joanna hissed.
Francesca forced herself to look at Emilio. "Are you?" She tilted her chin. She didn't have a cell phone to call the police with, but Joanna did and she'd use it if she had to.
"I have no intentions of killing them," Emilio said. "Mr. Ferraro will want to talk to them."
She didn't ask which Mr. Ferraro because she was fairly certain she knew. Keeping the handkerchief pressed to the shallow wound in her throat, she let Joanna lead her away.
"He said there was another team on us," Joanna whispered. "As in bodyguards. When Stefano said you were his to my uncle, I had no idea what he meant. He's serious. Bodyguards? More than one team of bodyguards? That and his brother coming into the store to talk to you? What is going on, Francesca?"
"I have no idea."
"What did he say to you when he took you outside? Did he ask you out?"
"No. Of course not. He didn't show that kind of interest," Francesca denied. She ignored the intense chemistry that had arced between them. She'd felt it, but she wasn't positive Stefano had. "He just seemed worried that I didn't have a coat or shoes. He told me to get myself something to eat."
"He gave you all that money. You could buy some decent clothes with it. Clearly that's what he wanted you to do." Joanna snapped her fingers. "We could get you a killer dress for the club and heels to match."
"We nearly got robbed and you're thinking of spending the money? I'm going to ask your uncle to put it in his safe along with this coat. I nearly died when that mugger made me bleed and I thought I might get blood on Stefano's favorite overcoat."
Joanna burst out laughing. "That's scary crazy and so are you, Francesca. Held at knifepoint and even cut, but you aren't worried about being robbed, just a coat."
"Not just a coat," Francesca denied, with a small grin, finally finding humor in the situation. "Stefano Ferraro's favorite coat. And after that I was worried about them taking his money and trying to figure out how I'd pay that back. I was considering stripping for a living."
Joanna's laughter went from forced to genuine. "Stripping?"
"I had four years of pole dancing for exercise in college. I believe you did as well. We were pretty good."
"You were pretty good," Joanna corrected. "You're great at dancing, too. You can move your body in a million different ways all at once. I forgot how envious I always got when you were on a dance floor."
"Muscle control and core strength. If you hadn't cut half the classes for a dat
e, you would have managed the advanced classes."
Joanna shrugged. "I was studying anatomy. What can I say? I got pretty good at that." She took Francesca's arm. "So what do you think? Should we go spend money at the mall? Get a killer dress and go out to the club this weekend?"
"No way. I'm not spending one more penny. In fact, if I make enough money to pay the rent before he comes looking for his coat, I'll pay him back for the shoes and he'll never know I used any of his money."
Joanna's eyebrows nearly shot into her hairline. "You are so stubborn, Francesca. If I had an opportunity like you have, protection from the Ferraro family, and a thousand dollars to spend, believe me, I'd be counting myself lucky, not resenting it."
Francesca sighed. "I guess I do sound resentful instead of thankful. It's just that . . ." She trailed off, looking around her. They were back in Ferraro territory. Whatever Stefano and his brothers were, the neighborhood felt different. Safe. She couldn't imagine the attack happening on their ground. She couldn't deny that she could feel that difference. She hadn't felt safe in a very long time. Without thinking too much about the why, she snuggled deeper into Stefano's warm coat. "He's so wealthy. Not a little bit well-off, everything about him screams money. I don't like that type. They live so differently than mere mortals like us."
Joanna flashed a grin. "You got that right. Jetting off around the world at a moment's notice. It's no wonder they forget what it's like to live from paycheck to paycheck."
"They don't forget," Francesca corrected. "They've just never had to do it."
CHAPTER THREE
The moment the wheels touched down on the runway in Los Angeles, Stefano unbuckled his seat belt and looked across the narrow aisle at his two brothers. "Is everything set?"
Ricco nodded. "The Lacey twins are meeting us and bringing a couple of friends. We'll party with them at the local hot spot and be very visible."
Stefano shook his head. "The Lacey twins? Again? Seriously, Ricco?"
"They're hot right now. The roles they get are prime and the paparazzi follow them everywhere. They're perfect. We'll be splashed all over every gossip rag there is. By tomorrow morning, the Internet will blow up with pictures and speculation."
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