ROMANCING SAL GABRINI

by Monroe, Mallory

  “Are you Miss Gemma Jones?”

  “I am, yes.”

  “I work for Mr. Gabrini. He sent the car for you.”

  Gemma hesitated. Although the “car” was nice, it was, after all, a limousine, she was nonetheless disappointed that he didn’t come himself.

  “He would have come if he could have, ma’am,” the driver said as if he was told to say it. “But there was a meeting he had to attend, and it was not possible for him to postpone it.”

  “I see,” Gemma said.

  “He sends his regrets.”

  Well, she thought, he couldn’t send himself, at least he sent something.

  “May I retrieve your luggage, ma’am?” the driver asked. “He mentioned that you would have baggage.”

  She had baggage, all right, but not like he meant. “No,” she said. “No luggage.”

  “Very good, ma’am. Will you come with me?”

  Gemma allowed the man to lead her to the limo, where he held the door open for her, closed the door back, and then made his way to the driver’s side. When he got in and drove off, and she was on her way, she couldn’t help but wonder why was she bothering at all. The odds of the two of them developing anything remotely resembling a lasting relationship was like a million to one. Especially with an irascible bulldog like Sal Luca Gabrini.

  But then she smiled. There was something irresistible about Sal Luca, something so different and genuine to her that there was a level of excitement she felt at the prospect of getting to know him better. And she liked him, which didn’t hurt. She truly liked the bulldog. After seeing him this morning she was amazed that those intense feelings she had originally felt for him, when they first met in Vegas, had remained.

  And those feelings alone made her believe that it was at least worth her time. Yes, it still concerned her that he didn’t bother to phone after he left Vegas. And yes she knew they both had the kind of personalities that could really have them bumping heads constantly. But Trina was right. There was something exceptional about Sal Luca Gabrini, something that was uniquely Sal. But she’d never get to know what that exceptionality was exactly, unless she gave him a chance. She was giving him a chance.

  As the limo drove under the portico in front of The Wingate apartment complex, Gemma exhaled. She assumed he lived well, and the limo didn’t harm that assumption, but she was still impressed. Because the Wingate was a magnificent building of granite and glass in trendy downtown Seattle that looked so modern and rich as it towered into the sky. And after the Doorman opened the car’s door for her and she stepped outside, and one of Sal’s assistants hurried up to greet her on the boss’s behave, Gemma suddenly felt the full force of just who she was dealing with. Sal was no Everyman. He was no Joe Blow. He was a ultra-successful businessman who knew how to handle his business. And his women too, Gemma thought, if his kissing ability was any indication.

  “You must be Miss Jones,” a young blonde said as Gemma exited the limo. The young woman had her hand already extended.

  “Yes,” Gemma said, shaking the small hand.

  “I’m Melody Lambert. Mel. I’m Mr. Gabrini’s assistant. He asked me to meet you here and get you settled in. Come with me, please.”

  Gemma followed her inside the Wingate’s expansive lobby, and then to a private elevator in the back of the lobby.

  “This is lovely,” Gemma said to Mel as they walked, as she looked up at the high flung ceiling, and down at the travertine tiles.

  “I agree,” Mel said as she placed the keycard in front of the elevator’s swipe pad. “Mr. Gabrini put his own personal touches on the place when he purchased it.”

  Gemma looked at her as the elevator doors opened. “When he purchased it?” she asked, as they stepped inside.

  “Yes,” Mel said as the doors began to shut. She looked at Gemma. “Mr. Gabrini owns the Wingate.”

  Gemma was surprised. “He owns the Wingate? You mean the entire thing?”

  Mel laughed. “Yes, ma’am. He owns the entire thing.”

  Gemma was floored. She knew the Gabrinis were well-to-do people. Sal’s cousin Reno owned the PaLargio Hotel and Casino in Vegas for crying out loud. So she expected Sal to be a man of means too. But for some reason she expected him to have far simpler tastes. He just came across that way to her. Nothing nearly as elaborate as a place like this. But, she also had to admit, she was pleasantly surprised.

  And even more so impressed when the elevator doors opened and they were inside of his penthouse apartment.

  From the floor to ceiling windows with the breathtaking views of the mountains, to the crystal-encased spiral staircase, the apartment reeked of elegance on a scale Gemma, again, didn’t think would be Sal’s taste. Everything was opulent, from the grand furnishings to the massive bar that could rival a restaurant’s bar on the back end of the enormous room. Even the terrace itself seemed like something out of a Katherine Hepburn movie, with an outdoor kitchen, a giant swimming pool, and a massive barbecue grill station with its own seemingly separate patio area. And these were just the sections of the terrace that Gemma could see from inside the apartment!

  Even Sal’s assistant seemed wowed, it seemed to Gemma, as she, too, was more of a spectator when they first entered the home than somebody who knew her way around. And like Gemma, she also seemed especially reluctant to touch anything in the room. Which made for an awkward few moments as both ladies just stood there, and gawked.

  It was Gemma, in fact, who got on with it. She headed for the cushiony leather sofa.

  “Yes, have a seat, please,” Mel said, coming back to herself and remembering that it was she who was supposed to be the host. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  Gemma looked at Mel. She wouldn’t mind a drink, but she wasn’t about to force that poor girl to tramp around Sal’s bar terrified that she might break some one-of-a-kind bottle opener or some vintage bottle of wine.

  “I’m okay,” she said as she sat down.

  Mel appeared relieved as she sat down too, gladly taking a seat in the flanking chair.

  “When is Sal, that is, Mr. Gabrini expected home?” Gemma asked her as her cell phone buzzed.

  “Soon,” Mel said as Gemma pulled a phone out of her purse and read a text message. “Or, at least, within the next couple hours. I think his last meeting is at four and then he’ll be here.”

  “That’ll work,” Gemma said as she continued reading her text. Once she began responding to the text, she crossed her legs and settled in.

  Mel looked at those long, dark legs as Gemma punched keys on her phone. She seemed sophisticated to Mel, a woman who probably didn’t think much at all about a fancy place like this. But what surprised Mel most was that she was black. She’d never known Mr. G. to fool with any black chick before. Mr. Tommy, yes. All the time. She never saw Mr. Tommy with any other kind of female. But Mr. G? For some reason he seemed like the type to her who would hate blacks.

  “Have you known Mr. Gabrini long?” she asked Gemma.

  Gemma didn’t bother to look up from her text messaging. “Not long, no.”

  “I’ve worked for him for three years now. Since I was out of college. I never dreamed I’d end up with such a good paying job.”

  Gemma continued to text.

  “The Gabrini Corporation pays their employees very well. In fact, Mr. Gabrini and his brother Tommy were voted best employee-friendly bosses in Seattle last year. I think that’s quite an accomplishment.”

  Still no response from Gemma. Mel knew she needed intel. She knew Shannon would want more from her than just how the woman looked and what race she was. She had hoped to get the information without much effort. From what she knew about it, black women loved to run their mouths. So she decided to probe.

  “What’s remarkable about Mr. Sal,” she said, “is that he only hires females. Can you believe that? Not a man on his staff. And except for Shannon, every one of us are blonde.”

  It worked. Gemma at least looked up at her. She
didn’t respond to the question, but she at least looked up.

  “Yep,” Mel went on as if Gemma had responded. “Every one of us is female and blonde. Except for Shannon, of course. And she’s his favorite. But all the rest of us are blonde. But you know what they say? They say gentlemen prefer blondes. I don’t know about that, but Mr. Gabrini sure does.” She said this with a grand smile.

  Gemma didn’t return the smile. She never patronized people that way. But she continued to look at Mel, knowing that there was more to come. She knew what the young lady was up to. She was on a fishing expedition, no doubt to provide fodder for office gossip. But Gemma was the one who planned to reel in the catch.

  “He treats us with great respect, though,” Mel went on. “He treats us as if we’re his kid sisters or his children or something. Like we’re family. He’s a wonderful employer. And a great businessman, too. He takes good care of people like you, one of his investors. He takes really good care of you guys.”

  Gemma didn’t try to disabuse her of the notion that she was some investor in the Gabrini Corporation, mainly because she was willing to bet that Mel already knew she wasn’t an investor. She continued to let her talk. She continued to let her behave like a fisherman reeling in his catch, only to find that the harder he reeled the more the catch wasn’t coming into the boat, but, instead, pulling him out into the sea.

  “Shannon usually is the one to entertain the investors. To bring them here and wait until the boss arrives. But for some reason he preferred me to entertain you. I wonder why?”

  She said this and looked at Gemma.

  “Maybe he didn’t think this Shannon person was up to the job,” Gemma said.

  “Why would he think that?” Mel asked, offended. “Shannon is his favorite. He knows her better than any of us. When he used to date her, he----” Mel realized she had said more than she should have said.

  Gemma wanted to smile. The fisherman was out of the boat and the catch had him dragging the river and holding on for dear life. “He dated her?” she asked.

  Mel hesitated. She had no intention of going this far. “Yeah, but it was nothing serious. Not like with you.”

  Mel waited for an affirmation, something tangible she could take back to Shannon. But Gemma wouldn’t cooperate.

  “You are dating him, right?” she decided to ask more directly.

  Gemma looked her dead in the eye. “And on what planet would that be your business?” she asked her.

  Mel was mortified. She could just see Gemma running back to the boss with her complaint of prying. “Oh, my,” she said with a deceptive smile, as if she had been completely misunderstood. “I absolutely didn’t mean to pry.”

  “Yes, you did,” Gemma said, refusing to go along. “But it’s all right.” Then she rose to her feet. “I’m going to wait outside on the terrace. Let me know when Sal arrives.”

  Mel looked at Gemma’s retreating form as if she was looking at a piece of trash. The arrogance of the woman astounded her. Who did that black bitch think she was? And as soon as Gemma opened the French doors and closed them back, effectively out of ear range, Mel pulled out her cell phone and called Shannon.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I think I went too far,” Mel said, still shaken. “You’ve got to tell Mr. G that I didn’t mean anything by it. I can’t lose my job, Shan.”

  “What are you talking about? What did you do?”

  “It’s not what I did, it’s what I said. She wouldn’t respond to any of my little remarks, you know, so I asked her point blank if she was dating Mr. G.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She got real nasty about it. ‘What is that your business,’ she said to me, or some such thing. She’s real arrogant and uppity.”

  “Where is she now? Can she hear you saying that?”

  “No. She went out on the terrace.”

  “So tell me before she comes back in. What does she look like?”

  But Mel had her own survival to worry about. “You’re going to tell Mr. G. that I didn’t mean to pry in his personal business, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about that. Just tell me what she looks like.”

  Mel looked out on the terrace. “She’s kind of tall and slender, and she has a nice shape.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she does. And she’s pretty too. She has big brown eyes and everything. I mean really big eyes.”

  “Is she prettier than I am?”

  Mel knew it was no contest. Gemma Jones, with her level of sophistication, made Shannon Dorn look like Little Orphan Annie. But she wasn’t about to tell Shannon that. Staying in good with Shannon was tantamount to staying in good with the boss. And Mel aimed to keep her good standing. “She’s a different kind of pretty,” she decided to stay. “She’s black.”

  “Black?” Shannon asked with incredulity in her voice. “Are you serious?”

  “Black as the night, Shan! And she’s real arrogant with it too, like she knows she’s exotic-looking and love to flaunt it.”

  “I don’t get it. Sal used to complain about his brother dating all those black bitches and now he’s dating one too? This doesn’t make sense!”

  “But maybe he’s not dating her,” Mel said. “Maybe she’s an investor too, but he’s just not telling us about it.”

  “Oh, get real, Mel! What investor do you know that he’ll allow into that penthouse? I’ve had sex with that joker before, all right, and he’s never allowed me in there! No way that chick is an investor.”

  “Then maybe she’s Mr. Tommy’s girl.”

  “Tommy? That’s not plausible either,” Shannon said. “Tommy Gabrini’s engaged, remember?”

  “But maybe that’s why he’s getting Sal to set it up. Maybe he’s the one coming here to meet her and have sex with her here so his fiancée won’t find out.”

  Apparently Shannon was entertaining this possibility, to Mel’s delight. “That’s possible,” Shannon said as if she was still weighing just how possible. “Yeah. That’s entirely possible. Tommy always act like he’s so higher up there than the rest of us, but he’s a whore just like Sal when it comes to women. You might have a point, Mel.” Shannon’s voice was more upbeat now. “Yeah, Mel. That makes more sense to me. ”

  “But you will tell Mr. G. that I didn’t mean to pry?”

  “If that comes up, yes. I’ll take care of it. Dang. You just keep an eye on that Gemma Jones.”

  “Don’t worry,” Mel said, staring at Gemma as Gemma stood against the terrace rail and stared out at Seattle. “I got her right in my crosshairs now. And I’ll keep her there until Tommy Gabrini shows up.”

  Only Tommy Gabrini didn’t show up. Sal did. And once he dismissed Mel, thanking her for keeping his friend company and retrieving the keycard from her, he headed for the terrace where Gemma was still standing.

  The noise of the Seattle evening made it impossible for Gemma to hear him open the doors and stand in the doorjamb. He folded his arms and watched her. She stood with her back to him, both hands on the rail, looking out at his sweeping views of the hyper-busy city and the quiet, distant mountains. She was dressed in that casual elegance he liked about her. Nothing ostentatious or over-the-top the way a lot of his ladies were prone to dress. But her style was understated, simple, but somehow dramatic too.

  She wore a pair of white, bottom-cuffed shorts that fit her so snugly across her perfectly formed ass that Sal’s penis began to pulsate just from the sight of those two, juicy cheeks. And those dark-brown legs coming down from the cuff of her shorts were so long and shapely that Sal felt an urge to wrap them in his arms and lick every inch of both of them. Her banana-yellow, sleeveless silk blouse was tucked into her shorts, revealing, not just the slender shapeliness of her entire body, but the beauty of her toned, unscarred arms. Sal had dated so many biker chicks with tattoos all over their upper arms that her smooth, unblemished skin was a welcomed sight to behold. Even her feet looked clean and pedicured,
encased in a pair of flat slipper shoes, with no tattoo to be found.

  Her nails were also manicured, Sal could see, and her hair was in a bouncy bob that reached down to her long, slender neck in an underthrow of rich, healthy body. But when she turned around, and his eyes moved from her large breasts made even larger by the tightness of her blouse, and he looked into that face, his heart squeezed. Why did he always get that reaction whenever she turned his way?

  Yes, she had big, dancing brown eyes beneath naturally long lashes that did not have a tap of that awful blue eye shadow that Sal hated with a passion. Gemma, in fact, wore such a minimal amount of makeup that he couldn’t recall ever dating a woman with such understated taste. Yes, her skin was so black and so smooth that it made him think of warmth and softness, dark cream and velvet. And yes, her nose had that nice curve at the tip he liked and her lips were so full and kissable that he found himself staring at them as if they were food to eat. And yes, that smile slayed him. White teeth perfection that didn’t transform her beautiful face, but enhanced it.

  Yes, physically, he was attracted to her. And attracted to her, as he saw it, in a major fucking way. He wanted her body and he wanted her in his bed badly.

  But what was puzzling to him was the emotional attraction. What was that about, he wondered. From the time he was introduced to her in Vegas, he wasn’t supposed to have any connection whatsoever to her beyond a physical thing. And at that time, because she was so different than what he was used to, he wasn’t even sure if he dug her physically. But once he decided that he did, she still wasn’t supposed to be anything more to him than a nice roll in the hay. An easy lay. And earlier today, when he invited her over to his place, fucking her was truly the main thing on his mind.

  But who was he kidding? Since when did he go out of his way to hook up with some girl the way he went running to that hotel to hook up with Gem? Since when did he invite some girl into his home, into his sanctuary, the way he invited Gem? To even suggest that she was just another girl to fuck in a sea of fuck-ready girls was ludicrous. And demeaning. Gemma Jones wasn’t just another anything and Sal knew it. But what he couldn’t understand, what he hadn’t been able to figure out, was why.