Sal Gabrini: His House of Cards

by Mallory Monroe

  Sal nodded. “I know,” he said. “But sometimes I feel like I should let her go. All this shit I’m in. All these enemies I have. I should let her go. She’ll be better off without me.”

  It was a truth every Gabrini man had to face. But Reno would have none of that for Sal. “No, she wouldn’t,” he said heartfelt. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to you, Sal. That’s the truth. But you’re the best thing that ever happened to her. That’s true too. Fight for her, Sal. Sometimes a woman just wants you to fight for her.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Over the next few weeks, Sal did all he could to win Gemma back. He tried several times to phone her. Even more times he tried to see her. But all of his efforts were rebuffed. She needed time, she told him. He had to be willing to give her time.

  It was one of the toughest things Sal had ever done. But he abided by her wishes. He gave her time. And life took on a surreal feeling for Sal. Day in and day out it felt as if he was going through the motions of life rather than living. He had business out of town that his lieutenants had to handle. He wasn’t about to leave town until his wife was back in his arms. Instead of having one of his men keep an eye on Gemma, to make sure she was okay, he kept an eye on her himself. He continue to run the Vegas office of the Gabrini Corporation. He did what he had to do. But for the first time in their marriage, he never once left town.

  It wasn’t until nineteen days after she had left him, when he was having lunch with a business associate, did he even get a chance to see her up close.

  He was at a table in the restaurant, talking about a merger with his acquisitions manager, when Gemma walked in with two other people: a man and a woman. Since the courthouse were mere blocks away, he assumed they were attorney friends of hers having lunch together. But it was the weirdest feeling in the world to Sal. There was Gemma, looking gorgeous in a blue skirt suit, as she allowed some man to hold her seat for her. And then she allowed that same man to sit beside her, as if he was her man, and Sal could do nothing about it.

  His heart ached just watching her. Word had already spread that there was trouble in paradise, and his ex-girlfriends were coming out of the woodwork trying to hook back up with Sal again. Or, as one of them boldly said, she was trying to hook back up with Sal’s big dick again. Juicy and Long, she called it. And she missed it. But Sal wasn’t having any of it. He told her and all the others that he wasn’t available and to lose his number the way he told them to lose it long ago. Whatever they heard about any breakup was nothing more than a rumor. He and his wife, he told them, were never going to part.

  But their weeks of separation were not bearing that out. He was in a restaurant with his wife, but they could not have been more apart. He kept taking peeps at her. He knew he was behaving like some peeping Tom, but he couldn’t help himself.

  Although she was smiling and talking with her colleagues, and seemingly carefree, he could see the strain on her beautiful face. And her body, though naturally slender, seemed frailer to him. This separation was tearing her apart too. And he hated himself even more for that. Reno told him to stand and fight for her. Reno told him that he was the best thing that ever happened to Gemma. But right now, seeing the pain he had caused her, he felt like the worse human being alive.

  To further aggravate an already tough situation, his manager threw in his two cents. “Isn’t that Mrs. Gabrini, sir?” he asked, as he looked across the room at Gemma. “Isn’t that your lovely wife?”

  Sal ignored him, and tried to ignore Gemma, but it was like ignoring a tiger on his head. He couldn’t ignore Gemma.

  “I’ll be back,” he finally said, tossed his napkin on the table, and made his way to her table. He knew she didn’t want to see him. He knew she might very well tell him to take a hike. But she was his wife dammit. He wasn’t about to pretend they were strangers.

  Gemma and her colleagues were in the middle of a laughing session when he arrived at their table. Gemma was the first to see him, and although she continued to smile, the strain on her face was even more pronounced up close. Her two colleagues seemed to recognize him too, Gemma’s tough guy husband Sal Gabrini was well known around that courthouse. And they also could feel the chill.

  After speaking to them, Sal turned to Gemma. “Hey, how are you?” he asked her, as he placed his hands in his pants pockets to keep himself from falling apart. He wasn’t a man who could smile easily on his best day. He didn’t even try to pretend on this awful day.

  Gemma’s heartbeat quickened when she realized Sal was in the restaurant and was now upon her. And she felt awkward too. “Hey,” she responded.

  Her demeanor was very polite. To the uninformed observer, like her two colleagues, it was a very cordial demeanor. To Sal, who knew how warmly Gemma usually greeted him, it felt like a knife in the gut.

  But he continued to maintain his composure. “I was having lunch with one of my managers. I saw you over here.”

  Gemma didn’t respond to that. He knew she wasn’t ready for this.

  Sal knew she wasn’t about to come around in a setting like this, and he was about to just leave her alone. He spoke to her. That was enough. But then he glanced at the food in front of her. And he couldn’t help himself. “That’s all you’re going to eat?” he asked. “That salad in front of you?”

  Gemma knew what was coming next. Sal had this outsized thing about her getting too thin. “That’s all I want, yes.”

  “You’re losing weight,” he responded, as if she had just stepped off of a scale. “You aren’t eating enough.”

  “I’m okay, Sal,” Gemma said firmly, almost harshly, and gave him a hard look. He wasn’t thinking about her diet when he was lying about that house. He wasn’t thinking about her wellbeing when he failed to mention Blanche Delilah.

  But Sal still had his pride. He loved her and their troubles were definitely his fault, but he wasn’t going to stand here and let her talk to him any kind of way. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it. Have a nice day, guys,” he said to all three of them, and headed back to his table.

  Gemma felt awful as she watched him leave. But she couldn’t possibly feel any worse than Sal.

  But he didn’t give up. It would take more than pride to make him quit.

  Early the next morning, Gemma woke up to an oddity that stunned her.

  She got out of her bed and put on her slippers. She slept in one of Sal’s dress shirts that had been hanging in the closet at her old house, a shirt he left there before they were married. Although they were separated, she slept in his shirts to at least smell his presence. But it wasn’t his presence she was smelling as she made her way downstairs. It was bacon. She went into her kitchen. Sal was at the stove.

  He glanced back at her, and then went back to his pots and pans. She had just awakened, and that need for more sleep still captured her, but he looked freshly scrubbed and bursting with energy as he stood there in his pristine suit, his Rolex watch, and his imported shoes. And he was scrambling eggs, something she couldn’t recall he ever did. It was so surreal to Gemma that she didn’t know what to say.

  Sal glanced back at her again. “Thought I’d cook you breakfast,” he said into the silence.

  To his credit, she thought, he wasn’t smiling and trying to behave as if nothing had happened between them. But it was still crazy to her.

  He continued to look at her. He always did love the way she looked first thing in the morning. Her hair on top of her head. Her beautiful eyes wide with surprise. Her gorgeous body tight and pliable, and undoubtedly wet and ready for him. He looked down, at that body of hers and the sexy fact that she was wearing one of his dress shirts. “Have a seat,” he said.

  But Gemma wasn’t about to lead him on. “This isn’t going to change anything, Sal,” she said.

  “I didn’t say it would. But I want to feed you. You’re still my responsibility whether you want to be or not. You’re looking frail. I want to make sure you eat.”

  There were easier ways, G
emma knew, than him coming to her house, letting himself in, and cooking a full blown breakfast. But when did Sal ever do it the easy way?

  She went to the powder room off from the foyer and washed her face and hands. She lingered, leaning against the sink, as she tried to muster the energy it took to see the man she loved without breaking down and giving in. But that was the quandary she found herself in. What could he ever say to her when it was his words that caused their separation in the first place?

  When she arrived back in the kitchen, Sal had both plates of food on the table and was waiting for her. He stood up when she returned, and sat down after she did.

  It was a hearty breakfast: bacon, eggs, and waffles. She wasn’t hungry. She couldn’t eat all of this food if her life depended on it. But he didn’t have to do this for her. She ate.

  Sal sat down across from her and ate too. They ate quietly. He continued to take peeps at her, and she continued to take peeps at him. Until he exhaled. “How have you been sleeping?” he asked. “Pretty good?”

  “I would say so,” she responded.

  “I wish I can say the same for myself. I never sleep well away from you.”

  More silence.

  “How does it taste?” he asked. “I’m no great cook, but I gave it my best.”

  “It’s fine,” Gemma said. “And thank you for preparing it.”

  Sal smiled. “You know you’re welcome, baby. I’ll do anything for you.”

  “Sal,” Gemma said quickly, “this isn’t going to change anything. I’m not ready yet. You can’t just lie to me like that and expect me to pretend it doesn’t hurt. It hurts. It’s devastating. And you’ve got to give me time and space to decide what I want to do.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. But when I saw you yesterday looking so thin I felt I had to do more. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. There’s no need to worry. I’m . . .” And the reality of their situation hit her hard. Again. She stood up, which caused Sal to stand too. “I’d better get ready for work,” she said, and was about to head toward the stairs.

  “Gem,” Sal said so heartfelt that Gemma turned around.

  Sal exhaled. “What can I say to make this right? Please tell me.”

  “You can’t say anything,” Gemma responded. “That’s the problem. I don’t know if I can trust what you say. And I have to be able to trust you or I don’t see how we can have a life together, Sal. There has to be trust.”

  Gemma stared at him as if she needed him to understand what she was dealing with, and then she headed back upstairs.

  Sal stood there wishing to hold her, and to comfort her, and to apologize a million times over for the pain he put her through. But he had to give her time. Time was always his enemy. But he had to rely on that enemy this time.

  But the next day, when Gemma was back at work, he was at it again. Her client in a murder case had taken the stand, and it had been a disaster. Now she was back at her law firm.

  “How did it go?” Barbara asked her.

  “Don’t ask,” Gemma responded, and headed for her office.

  Barbara followed her boss. “Did he testify?”

  “He testified.”

  “Did he blow it?”

  “He blew up at the prosecutor. He blew up at the Judge. So I would say yeah, he blew it. Whose flowers?” A bouquet of roses were sitting on Gemma’s desk. Gemma walked behind the desk.

  “Want me to read the card?” Barbara asked with a smile on her face.

  “Don’t play games, Barb. I know you. You read it already. Give.”

  “If you must know,” Barbara said as she stood in front of the desk, “it says ‘to my darling wife. With love, Sal.’ It’s so romantic, considering who it’s coming from. Want me to put them in water?”

  “Yes, please. And close the door behind you.”

  Barbara gladly grabbed the roses and headed out of the office, closing the door behind her. Gemma sat down, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

  It had been a terrible day at trial. Her client was obnoxious and contemptuous. He was going to get the chair if he wasn’t careful. He wouldn’t listen to her advice. He wouldn’t answer anybody’s questions directly. Just terrible. It was so bad that she asked the defendant if he wanted a different attorney. He didn’t. He wanted to keep her. He believed in her, he said. It was the first time Gemma was sorry to hear such a vote of confidence.

  Her desk phone buzzed. She pressed the button. “Yes, Barb?”

  “Mr. Gabrini on Line 3.”

  Gemma exhaled. And then pressed the button. “Hello, Sal.”

  “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m okay. Thank you for the flowers.”

  “You’re welcome. I know you like red roses.”

  She did. And she appreciated his gesture. But still.

  “I know you’re busy,” he said, “so I won’t keep you. I called your cell phone but it was still turned off. You must have been in court today.”

  Gemma had forgotten again to turn on that darn phone. “Yeah, I was.”

  “I’m going to pick you up tonight, at seven. I want you to have dinner with me tonight, Gemma.”

  Gemma closed her eyes. “Sal, what good will it do?”

  “None probably,” he admitted. “But what good is it doing now? With no real conversation at all? At least I’ll have dinner with my wife.”

  Gemma knew he spoke the truth. She wasn’t exactly moving in one direction or another one. She almost felt as if she was standing still. Something was better than nothing. “Okay,” she finally said.

  There was a sigh on Sal’s end. A sigh of relief? “I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said. And to avoid her changing her mind, he said goodbye quickly, as if he suddenly had to go, and they both hung up.

  “Where is he going to take you?” Trina asked. They were behind the counter at Champagne’s.

  “He didn’t say,” Gemma responded.

  “So what did he say?”

  “He said he’s taking me to dinner. He didn’t say where.”

  “And you didn’t ask?”

  “No.”

  “So how do you feel about this turn of events?”

  Gemma shook her head. “I don’t know, Tree. I’m excited, because I miss him so much. But I’m uneasy too, because I don’t know what to expect with Sal anymore.”

  “He lied,” Trina said. “He was wrong. But everybody deserves a second chance.”

  “I know that too. But Sal has got to understand what I won’t tolerate. I have to be able to trust my husband. I have to know that what he says is the way it is. He’s shaken that faith I had in him. I can’t pretend that doesn’t hurt. It’s shaken me.”

  Trina placed an arm around her. “I feel you, girl,” she said. “You know I do. If you let a man mistreat you, I don’t care who that man is, he will.”

  “That’s why I have to know he understands what I won’t allow.”

  “And if he doesn’t understand to your satisfaction?” Trina asked. “Will you be willing to divorce him?”

  A pained expression crossed Gemma’s face. “No,” she admitted. “I can’t see it going that far.”

  Trina smiled. “Then you’d better make a statement tonight.”

  “What kind of statement?” Gemma asked.

  “Wear something very sexy. Make him see what his lying ass is missing.”

  Gemma laughed. “You need to quit, Trina.” Then she nodded her head. “But I get what you’re saying,” she admitted.

  Sal stood in the mirror wearing yet another one of his imported suits. He looked too formal, and didn’t know how to tone it down. When he toned it down, he looked as if he wasn’t taking this dinner serious enough. Then he gave up, it was getting too late, and phoned Reno.

  “You must be awfully desperate calling me,” Reno said.

  “Just answer the question,” Sal said.

  “Dress sexy,” Reno said. “That’s your answer.”

  “Why sexy?” Sal asked.


  “To show her what she’ll lose if she leaves you. It’ll require a great acting job on your part, but I have faith in you.”

  “I’m touched,” Sal said, and hung up.

  What a waste of time, he thought. But then he thought again. Sexy, he thought to himself. He should give her sexy?

  “Then sexy it will be,” he said, and then went deep into his closet.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When she heard the doorbell ring, Gemma hurried downstairs. Sal had no problem barging into her home and preparing her breakfast without so much as a how do, but tonight he decided to ring. Which was fine by her.

  But when she opened the door and saw Sal standing there, and when Sal saw Gemma standing there, they both were taken aback.

  Gemma wore a leather skirt suit where the skirt was so short and tight it barely covered her panties, and where the buttoned leather jacket had no shirt beneath and was so low-cut that her cleavage was big and bulging and showing just a tad above her nipples. Sal was stunned.

  Sal stood there in a puffed-sleeve shirt that opened nearly to his navel, with a gold chain around his neck and bell bottom pants that were so tight his dick appeared to be a sneeze away from busting through the zipper. Gemma was stunned too.

  Neither knew what to think. Gemma was sexy to Sal, that outfit was doing all kinds of wonderful things to her smoking body, but they were about to go out on the town. He wasn’t the only one who would be seeing that body. Other men would. Sal wasn’t about to allow that to happen.

  As for Gemma, she couldn’t help it. Seeing Sal in that get-up made her smile. And then she couldn’t help it. She laughed.

  “What?” Sal asked, at first surprised by her outburst. “I’m trying to be sexy here!”

  “You look like a pimp,” Gemma said between laughs, “and I look like a prostitute.”

  Sal had to smile at that, because she was right, and her laughter was contagious. He began laughing too. “Who advised you?” he asked her.