The Claim

by Billy London

  “No, but you signed a contract,” Anna said lightly. “You agreed to continue the business as it was and then you got rid of Mrs. Mamione. Out of spite, vengeance, stretching your business legs, what was it?”

  “None of your concern.”

  “It is my concern when you’ve made my client redundant for no reason other than I can. You could have spent the money doing up one of the thousand abandoned pubs in the city and turned it into a wine bar. If the deli was failing, losing money, I would understand, but look at the profit in the month before you bought it. Page eighty-nine of the bundle.”

  Enzo’s solicitor tried to interrupt. “Could we have some coffee or water?”

  The mediator waved a hand toward the setup. “You could pass me one of those Magdalene cakes.”

  Enzo’s face paled. “That’s one of her cakes!”

  Nonna passed the tray to the mediator. “Orange blossom and lime,” she beamed.

  “She’s bribing you!” he yelled. “She can’t do that!”

  Anna shrugged. “We can offer whatever refreshments we like.”

  The mediator bit into one of the cakes, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Good lord. These are incredible!”

  “We’d sell out of these by ten every morning,” Nonna said proudly. “Easiest things in the world to mess up, a Magdalene cake.”

  “Mr. Vitale,” the mediator mumbled around his second cake, “You haven’t told us why you’ve derailed a perfectly functioning business in breach of the contract you signed.”

  “That’s not what I signed,” he growled.

  “That’s not your signature?” Anna interjected. “Then you didn’t buy the business? So you didn’t have any right to sack Mrs. Mamione?”

  “That smug old bitch was begging to be sacked, she disrespected me!”

  “Mr. Vitale, you will modify your language,” the mediator said sternly. “I will not have you abuse anyone in this room, do I make myself clear?”

  “When did she disrespect you?” Anna asked. She could feel Nonna shaking with anger beside her.

  “July,” Enzo said. “She told me to get out of her kitchen, I was in the way.”

  “July was before you purchased the business,” Anna reminded him. “So why were you in the kitchen?”

  “I was taking a look around!”

  “What time in July?”

  “Midday, sometime, who cares?”

  “Then you were interrupting Mrs Mamione at the deli’s busiest time to ‘look around.’”

  “The owners should have told her to expect me.”

  “They said you were coming after we closed and you wafted in like you owned the joint already!” Nonna snapped. “You were getting under my feet, so I told you to get out.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do, I am a fucking Vitale!”

  “You’re a little fish whose daddy told him he’s bigger than he is,” Nonna retorted. “You sacked me because you could.”

  “And it showed you!” he seethed.

  The mediator put his hands up. “I’ve heard quite enough. Mr. Vitale, pay up.”

  Enzo started, taking his snake eyes from Nonna. “What?”

  “Pay. Up. Your defence is baseless—you had absolutely no reason to buy the deli except to stretch your authoritative legs and show Mrs. Mamione that it was what you could do. Whether it’s her age or the fact that she’s a woman is unclear, but it is clear to me that you have some misogynistic tendencies, particularly in the way you spoke to her. The figure I am recommending is based on Ms. Taylor’s calculation, and I am including a compensatory award for discrimination because I can and the law allows me to. If you refuse this recommendation and go ahead to the Tribunal, believe me, no judge, especially the ones closer to Mrs. Mamione in age, will be impressed with your argument. Sirs, if you do not want to be shamed in a court of this land, you will advise your client to take this recommendation seriously and end this case. As of now, the humiliation is confined to this room. He goes to tribunal and he will be thoroughly mocked. Mrs. Mamione, would you mind giving me another cake?”

  Nonna passed the tray over in shock. Anna made notes of the mediator’s recommendation. “Oh, and Mrs. Mamione will need her job back.”

  “What?”

  “The economy is a tight, brittle, elastic band. If you abuse businesses that are running perfectly well, you are contributing to this country’s plight, and that will help no one. She needs her job back. I know councilmen in the Kensington area, and they will continue to refuse your alcohol licence if they know it is not beneficial to their constituents, and cakes such as these are.”

  “That’s for the unfair dismissal, that’s her reinstatement award, breach of contract, failure to consult on a TUPE, unpaid wages, holiday and notice pay.” Anna pointed out her list of demands. “Plus what compensation figure were you thinking for the discrimination?”

  “Around eighty thousand pounds should do it. And an uplift of twenty percent.”

  Nonna’s jaw fell open and Anna made a note, making quick calculations. “That’s just under one hundred and eighty thousand. Shall we just round it out?”

  “This is ridiculous!” Enzo whispered.

  The mediator shrugged. “You’ve got the money to be buying delis. I’m sure you’ll find the money to rectify your grievous mistake. Ms. Taylor, will someone be able to print up my recommendations and get a signature from everyone in the room?”

  “Absolutely.” She called Bernie, who went to organise like a demon. Nonna was pressing Enzo’s solicitors. “If you’re not a fan of Magdalenes, try these little biscuits. Crushed almonds and macadamia nuts.”

  Despite receiving filthy looks from their client, they accepted the biscuits and cups of coffee. “These really are good.”

  “You’re supposed to by my lawyers,” Enzo hissed.

  “No reason why they can’t enjoy a thoroughly decent treat.”

  “Outside!” Enzo commanded, getting to his feet and not waiting for his solicitors to follow. Nonna turned and hugged Anna delightedly.

  “Did you see his rotten face?”

  “I did. And well done for staying calm.”

  Nonna released her and blew out a breath. “Ooh, I’m feeling all giddy! Haven’t felt this way since Rocky’s grandfather tried to get me to have sex on the bus on the way home from dancing at the Camden Palace.”

  Anna glanced at the mediator who had gone red. “That’s nice,” Anna said mutely. “Have some tea.”

  A few minutes later, Bernie returned with the recommendation. As Bernie left, Enzo stalked back in. “Let’s just get this done and dusted.”

  “I’m glad you’ve seen sense, Mr. Vitale.”

  Lip curled in disgust, he glanced up at Nonna. “Enjoy it. While you can.”

  Anna sat up. “Are you threatening my client?”

  Enzo glanced at his solicitors, who shook their heads frantically.

  “I’m making a note of that,” the mediator said, tapping away at his notebook. “Don’t make idle threats in front of people who have the power to prevent you from doing anything of the sort.”

  Enzo scratched his signature into the recommendation and got to his feet. “Stay here, Mrs. Mamione, I’ll show Mr. Vitale out.”

  Anna swayed ahead of him to the lifts. “Your client made a huge mistake.”

  “I doubt it,” Anna replied, pressing the call button. “Because Nonna could have done this the other way.”

  “She can’t touch me.”

  “Really?” She made a moue with her mouth. “That’s interesting. So who are the Da Canavezes?”

  He paled instantly. “They’re looking after me.”

  “I doubt it. But, just in case, let me run past their solicitor what you just said. See if they’ll look after you in the way you think.” The lift doors opened. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Vitale. I’ll expect the funds in our client account within the next five working days. Best not delay these things.”

  He s
tormed into the lift and his solicitors hurried after him. Folding her arms, Anna had a little think, wondering how fearful one must feel to be so close to a danger such as that. “Friends in high places, huh, Rocco?” she muttered to herself, making her way back to the conference room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nonna had a celebration that went well past one in the morning. In the absence of food there had been a lot to drink with whoever was in the bar closest to the firm’s offices. Nonna didn’t like “pansy” champagne and wanted to drink a decent scotch. Rocco had no idea what happened to him, but the fact that his seventy-seven-year-old grandmother was standing on a table bellowing along to We Are the Champions conducting some city suits to join her while he was yawning, was his clue to get a life.

  Anna was tapping away at her iPad when Rocco went over to get her. “Still working?”

  “Just making sure everything’s neat and tidy. Plus I’ve got a hearing in two days. Fun.”

  “May I take you home?”

  Her eyes softened. Closing the tablet, she got to her feet. “Yes you may. Nonna!” she called. “We’re off.”

  “Lightweights!” Nonna snorted back.

  “Come on, I’m making sure you get home.”

  She beamed at one of the young bloods, who were shiny faced with laughter and drink. “One of these boys will make sure I’m all right.”

  “Absolutely not,” Rocco said shortly, hoisting his grandmother from the table and ushering her outside, to Anna’s uncontrolled laughter. He hailed a taxi and Nonna sat between them, quoting Enzo Vitale’s doom.

  “Oh Rocky, you should have seen Anna, she was worth every single penny!”

  He caught Anna’s eye. “I did tell you.”

  “I thought you were being nice to get back in my good books.”

  “I was telling the truth,” he said without flattery. “And I wanted to get back into something of yours.”

  “Knickers?” Nonna and Anna asked together.

  “Nonna, behave yourself. You’re a mother of six and a grandmother of…God only knows.”

  Nonna turned to Anna. “Mamione men are very fertile. I’d double bag him if I were you.”

  Rocco sank in his seat as Anna wiped away tears of laughter. “Please, Tempesta, I beg you, have a memory lapse about this taxi journey.”

  “No can do, Rocks. It’s information I should be very aware of. Thank you, Nonna.”

  A loud snore sounded in the taxi. Nonna was out like a light. Once the taxi pulled up outside his mother’s home, he quietly and carefully deposited his grandmother in her bedroom before racing out and leaping back into the taxi. “I’ve got sod all food, so we’re going to yours,” Anna told him bluntly.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Those tiny little chicken satays did nothing for me.” Rocco buried his face in her bosom, breathing in her scent deeply and tracing kisses over her décolletage.

  “Then I will feed you.”

  “Good idea.”

  He hustled her upstairs while he prepared pitta breads, warmed a tagine that had been waiting for him to enjoy when he returned from work and a couscous salad. Piling everything onto a tray, he carried it to his room. Anna was patiently sitting cross-legged on his bed, wearing the lace vest she’d had on beneath her suit and little lace shorts. She patted the space in front of her. “Feed me, Seymour!”

  Rocco placed the tray in the middle of the bed and sat opposite Anna, who dived into the food. “Congratulations,” he said gently, stroking her leg.

  “Hmm, thank you!”

  “Why are you thanking me?”

  She grinned. “This has been the most fun I’ve had in law for a long time. I wouldn’t mind reaming that little idiot again.”

  “Nonna appreciated it.” He laughed. “You didn’t take out the success fee clause, did you?”

  “Mate, come on, I fucking hated you a few months back, you think I’d remove anything that would give me a twenty-percent uplift when I won?”

  “Just checking you weren’t being all student justice defender. I know Charles wouldn’t thank you for keeping him out of a financial loop.”

  Anna sighed. “That man’s going to be all over me for a week or three because of this.”

  He helped himself to the tagine. “You know he’d try to marry you if he didn’t actually love his wife.”

  She gave a disgusted snort. “What makes you think he’d get the chance? Money-loving old goat.”

  “I said try. He’d have a hell of a time explaining himself to me. I think it’s in my contract somewhere.”

  Despite her giggle, she gave him a firm slap on the leg. “Good going.”

  “I thank you. How are we doing on the rules? Have you spoken to your parents yet?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted, her mouth twisting with uncertainty. That wasn’t his Annie at all. It made a flash of concern tug at his abdomen. “I told my mum and she’s worried.”

  Ah. “Once a cheat?”

  She put down her food and reached over to take his hand, her fingers dusty with pitta flour. “I know you didn’t, but whether anyone else will believe that is another story.”

  It was the very thing they’d have to combat—people making judgments. He couldn’t have cared less if people accused him of being a thorough arsehole. Said people could suck the barrel of his favourite gun. On the other hand, people saying things about Anna, questioning her intelligence for being with him would frustrate him endlessly. He’d have to work on her parents once they’d been reintroduced. Parents tended to melt around him, male and female.

  “Are you happy?”

  “Hungry still,” she teased, picking her plate up. “Rocks, I haven’t been kind about you by no stretch of the imagination, and the response was regularly ‘he’s not worth it.’ You are worth it, though, and I want my mum to see that.”

  “She will,” Rocco promised. “But I understand where she’s coming from. Obviously when you and I have a little girl, she’s not even looking at boys until she’s forty and she’s not marrying anyone I haven’t thoroughly screened.”

  Anna paused, pitta bread halfway to her mouth. “Did you just say when?”

  “Yeah,” he said, casually going back to his food.

  “Maybe I want to have boys and teach them better manners than their father.”

  As if that sort of tease would work. “Highly unlikely—my manners are impeccable. You always come first, don’t you?”

  “I cannot believe you just said that in reference to our potential children.”

  “Children? So you agree, four?” Rocco waved a palm back and forth, waiting for her approval.

  “Why don’t you have the last two and I’ll be fine with that.”

  He winced. “Now that you’ve said it, Beppe’s going to work on a way to make that happen.”

  “God,” Anna sighed. “He can’t be around our kids until they’re mentally competent and able to use Mace.”

  “I think if you tell your parents that, we’ll be more than all right.”

  Laughter sparkled in Anna’s eyes and Rocco right then knew exactly what colour, size and type of engagement ring he was going to buy for her. Her parents would definitely not be cool with their daughter being pregnant before she stepped anywhere near an altar or a priest.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rocco curled his hand into Anna’s. “Hey, hey, hey!” she hissed, taking her hand away. “Out of the office.”

  “We’re a step and a half out of the office, and everyone knows already!”

  Anna came to a grinding halt. “How?”

  He failed to suppress his laughter. “Your office is not soundproof. I did ask you to keep it down.”

  She sent him a glance of pure disdain. “Never happening again.”

  “We’ll see,” he challenged, taking her hand again, tugging her in front of him and nudging her through the revolving doors.

  Of course he felt his luck—he’d persuaded her to break one of her own rules. She’d
started it, parading around in barely there lingerie only to cover up the scandalous pieces with elegant suits to torment him.

  “That’s not on,” he told her as she dressed in the morning a few days ago.

  “What? It’s so no one can see I’ve got underwear on!” Anna protested with a bewitching glint of mischief in her eyes.

  “No, they’re going to wonder if you’re going commando!”

  She grinned. “Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

  Oh, it did concern him. How was he supposed to work around the most stubborn hard-on, when he knew it wouldn’t let him be until it was buried inside Anna? His need was a serious one and for the sake of his mental health, it was not to be ignored.

  He called her. “Can you sit in for an intra-company transfer conference?”

  “Okay. I had an immigration update last week. You sure you need me?”

  Heh, heh, heh... “I wouldn’t ask otherwise. One o’clock.”

  Ten minutes to the hour, Anna breezed into his office and took a seat, a legal pad on her knees. He sat next to her, rather than opposite, trying not to smile at her immediate frown as he connected the call. “This won’t take long,” he assured her, taking the pad and placing it on his desk. Despite her frown, she didn’t seem aware of his intentions.

  A brief glance at her lower body showed him lots of cocoa-glossed skin. No tights today, he thought in triumph. Makes my life easier. He introduced himself and Anna to the client and let the conversation play without his attention.

  Anna spoke with confidence. “First things first, who is the parent company and is the subsidiary in the UK?”

  As the client replied, Rocco drifted his hand over her bare thigh. Anna jolted and pressed the mute button on the phone. “Rocco Mamione!”

  His fingers dipped between her knees, his breath hitching as her legs parted at his insistence. “You can’t tempt me and expect me not to touch.”

  “You need help,” she grumbled, flicking at his hand.

  “I need you,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to her neck, his lips assaulted by her rapid pulse.

  “Umm...”

  “Ms. Taylor?” the client called. Anna edged away and slapped at the button again. “Sorry, what was that you were saying?”