ROMANCING SAL GABRINI

by Monroe, Mallory

  Sal frowned. “What the fuck is this? The third degree? I know how to treat a woman.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Whatta you yeah righting about? I know how to treat a woman.”

  “I’m just saying I don’t want you fucking around with Gemma’s emotions. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Sal exhaled. Why was he always battling Reno every single time they got together? Reno was a happily married man, something Sal hoped to be some day. Reno got it right. He should be learning from the man, not battling him. “I won’t hurt her,” he said, “if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Good,” Reno said, satisfied.

  “And,” Sal added, “thanks for coming to dinner with us. I know you’re getting ready for the grand reopening of the PaLargio, which makes you a very busy man.”

  “It’s no problem at all,” Reno confessed. “Tree says I need a break. I say she’s right. She’s always right,” Reno said with a grin. Then he turned serious again. “But anything for Gemma,” he said. “Because I will tell you, cousin, she’s one lady you’d better keep close to the heart. When I first met her, I had the hots for her, I’ll admit that. If I didn’t have Trina in my life at that time, I would have been all over that.”

  Any other man had said that, and it would have been on. But Sal knew Reno. “I know what you’re saying,” he said. “I can say the same thing about Tree. If you wouldn’t have been in her life, I would have been all over her.”

  But Reno wasn’t convinced at all. “Yeah, right. You were all on my case because she wasn’t Italian. Yet you would have wanted her for yourself? I don’t believe it. But it does beg the question, doesn’t it?”

  “What question?”

  “I mean like,” Reno said, trying to find the right words. Then he found them. He looked at his cousin. “What changed?” he asked.

  “You mean me and black girls?”

  “Yeah. Blondes were your fuck of choice, I know that, and I knew if you ever got married you was hell bent on marrying an Italian girl. Pure and simple. At least that was what you kept telling me and Tommy.”

  “Yeah, well, that was how I saw it then. People are entitled to change.”

  “But what caused the change? You suddenly realized the narrow-mindedness of your ways?”

  “What narrow-minded? I wasn’t narrow-minded. I liked what I liked. I had a right to like what I liked.” Then he paused. “But I met Gemma.”

  Reno stared at him. “She did it for you?”

  Sal nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he said. Reno could see the gleam in his eyes. “There’s something about that woman, Reno, that. . .” Sal felt embarrassed, but he was only telling the truth. “I don’t know,” he ultimately said. “I love her, what can I say?”

  To Reno he’d said a mouthful. Sal admitting his love for a woman? It was the first time ever that Reno could recall. Then Reno nodded his head. “Do right by her, Sal, and she’ll do right by you.”

  Sal looked at him. “So you think my heart is in good hands?”

  “If you don’t screw it up, yeah.”

  Sal frowned. “Why would I screw it up?” he asked, and just like that he and Reno, as always, were at each other’s throats again.

  Until Reno looked up and saw his wife. “They’re here,” he said, and Sal looked too.

  Both women, Gemma and Trina, walked toward their men in a slow, purposeful gait.

  Reno looked at his wife. She’d gained weight lately, and hated it, and now wore slightly bigger shirts in an effort to conceal it. But it only endeared her to Reno more. Because to him, that weight gain only enhanced that air of sophistication that cloaked her now. And besides, he thought only to himself, he always preferred a little meat.

  She was no twenty-something kid anymore, that was for sure, and she wasn’t trying to be one either. All he knew was that young women could learn a thing or two from that woman. But instead they tended to go all jealous on her. They’d walk into her boutique and have nothing but negative comments to say about his wife. Reno told her to set those assholes straight. She didn’t have to take that abuse just to make a sale. He told her to remind them just who she was. I’m beautiful, I’m smart, and I’m rich, bitch, Reno once told her to respond whenever some of those young fools walked into her boutique with that jealous nonsense. But Trina wouldn’t do it. She smiled, let them have their say, and gladly took their money.

  He glanced over at Gemma, as she walked slightly behind Trina. She was hot too, maybe even hotter than Trina if he had to be objective about it. But his eyes went back to Tree. And his heart swelled with pride and emotion and love for that woman right there. He knew the deal. He knew he was inordinately blessed to have the most beautiful woman in the world, right in his heart.

  Sal’s heart, however, only had eyes for Gemma. He didn’t even give Trina a glance. Because when Gemma walked into a room, she commanded, not only his attention, but every man in the room’s attention. At least that was how Sal saw it. And Sal knew those men didn’t know her or her heart and didn’t want to know any of that. He knew men were giving her those intense looks because of her gorgeous black skin, and her lithe, slender body with the tightest ass Sal had ever fucked, and the way she walked as if she owned the joint. He and Reno stood up to greet them, but Sal remained one dimensional: he couldn’t take his eyes off of Gem.

  After Gemma kissed Reno, and Sal kissed Trina, everybody took a seat. Alfonso returned to take their drink orders, and then left, and then they all settled in.

  “This is so nice,” Gemma said, looking around. “I’ve never been here before.”

  “Shame on you,” Trina said only half-jokingly. “We have to support our black businesses. And MoDeen’s is one of the best.”

  “I hear that,” Gemma said as she began perusing the menu. Sal looked over at her. “What do you have a taste for?” he asked.

  “I can’t decide,” Gemma said, looking at everything on the menu. “What do you recommend?”

  Trina’s foot hit Reno’s under the table. The ideal that tough Gemma could be acting so girly around Sal made both of them smile. Because Trina knew exactly what it meant. Gem was falling hard for Sal. Hard. And it was lovely to see.

  But then Trina’s smile kind of dissolved too. Because she knew Sal. She’d heard about his strong sexual appetite and inability to commit to anyone. How was a man like him, she wondered, going to be able to not only commit to one woman only, which she knew Gemma would demand, but to do so in a long distance relationship?

  “Try the porterhouse steak with onions,” Reno suggested. “It’s mouth-watering good.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Trina agreed, “if you want to gain fifty extra pounds.” Gemma laughed. “And we all know Sal. He’s no Reno. You have got to keep that fine shape, girl, or he’ll kick you to the curb.”

  Reno and Gemma laughed. Sal failed to see the humor. “Whatta you talking?” he asked Trina. “I’m not superficial like that. How could you say that, Tree?”

  “Because it’s true,” Trina said, refusing to back down. “You date fine women, and fine women only, which is your right. But Reno has dated fat, skinny, tall, short, ugly, cute, that kind of thing doesn’t matter to him. But it matters to you. For real though.”

  And she was right, Sal thought to himself. He used to be that dude. But that was before he met Gemma. That was before Gemma opened his eyes to a lot of things, not least of which was his own prejudices and ridiculous superficiality.

  But when he found a woman who had it all in one neat package, the way Gemma did, it made him rethink a lot of his assumptions. He was so fortunate to have a young, vibrant, beautiful woman who loved him for who he was and refused to settle for less than his best. He was so blown away by her, in fact, that when he last left Vegas and returned to Seattle, he went straight to Christ the King Catholic church and attended Confession. He confessed his sins all right, but he also thanked God for Gemma. He was serious about this. He wasn’t about to blow this.

  CHAPTER
TWELVE

  Over the next three months, Sal didn’t come close to blowing it. He kept his word to Gemma at all times and he treated her as if she were his queen. He came most weekends to Vegas, which she loved, but when he couldn’t, she flew to Seattle.

  Like the last weekend of their third month. Sal sent his private jet, as he always did, and the limo met her at the airstrip in Seattle. He usually didn’t get home from work until late on Friday evenings, so when she arrived at the Wingate she knew she was going to have some time alone.

  “Welcome back, Miss Jones,” the doorman said with a grand smile as he hurried to open the door for her.

  “Thank-you, Travis,” she replied. “How are things going for you?”

  “Couldn’t be going better, ma’am, thank-you,” replied Travis.

  “And the baby’s recovered?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am,” the proud father said grandly. “Doc said she shouldn’t have any ill effects from the pneumonia, so we’ll so grateful.”

  “Oh, for sure,” Gemma said.

  William, the manager, met her at the lobby’s entrance. “Welcome back, Miss Jones,” he said as he escorted her toward Sal’s private elevator. “If there is anything I can do for you during your stay, anything at all, please let me know. Mr. Gabrini was highly upset that I wasn’t here to meet you the last time you arrived, so I do apologize for that.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. How were you to know that I was coming? He didn’t tell you, did he?”

  “No, ma’am but, I do apologize.”

  Gemma realized it was vital that she accept his apology, although she was certain no apology was needed. “Your apology is accepted,” she said, and relief washed over his face.

  “Thank-you, ma’am,” William said as Gemma swiped her keycard, causing the elevator doors to open, and then she stepped on and waved as the doors closed her in.

  The concierge came up to William as the doors were closing. “That’s a fine looking woman there,” he said.

  “Best thing that ever happened to Sal Gabrini,” William said as he stared at the now closed doors. “Best thing ever. The rascal.” Then bitterness appeared in William’s eyes. “He doesn’t deserve her,” he said as if it were a fact, and walked away.

  The concierge watched the odd manager with a bemused look on his face. That was a switch, he thought. Usually William had nothing but harsh things to say about Sal’s females. Now he was praising one? The concierge chuckled, and went on about his business.

  Upstairs, Gemma went on about her business too. Only her business was taking a shower and getting herself completely fresh and ready for Sal’s arrival. Because their weekends always started the same way: Sal fucking her for nearly two hours solid, usually in various and sundry ways, and usually in various and sundry rooms. And then he’d take her out to dinner, and then some dancing, then a walk around the park, and then, if they weren’t too tired, more sex.

  But this weekend was especially special for her. Because Sal, during one of his nightly phone calls that usually lasted into the early morning, had said it was high time he went house hunting, and that he needed her, not wanted her, but that needed her to go with him. Trina said it was a sure sign that Sal was ready to take their relationship to the next, and ultimate level, but Gemma wasn’t about to leap that far just yet.

  But a buzz from downstairs interrupted her reverie. She was out of the shower and fully dressed in a pair of jeans and one of Sal’s Seattle Supersonic t-shirts, when William buzzed.

  “Yes, William?” Gemma said as she pressed the intercom button on the nightstand inside the master bedroom.

  “Awfully sorry to disturb you, Miss Jones,” he said, “but there’s a Miss Pacheco here to see Mr. Gabrini. I informed her that he was not in, but she said she wasn’t going anywhere until she talked to Mr. Gabrini. She said, ma’am, that it concerns his son.”

  Gemma’s heart dropped. Within days of their renewed relationship, when that voice mail message was still bothering her, she came out and asked Sal if he had any children. He laughed, as if it was the most ridiculous thing, and then said that he did not. Now some woman was downstairs declaring just the opposite? Gemma hesitated, to regain her composure.

  “Send her up, William,” she ultimately pressed the button and said.

  But her heart continued to pound as she made her way down his glass staircase, across the living area, through the foyer, and up to the front door. She didn’t think William would put her on Sal’s private elevator to come up, since nobody was authorized to use it but she and Sal, and she was right. Within a couple minutes, the front door bell rang.

  Gemma looked at herself in the full length mirror in the foyer, determined to make sure Sal’s baby mama, if that was who this woman was, saw her looking her best. And she did look just fine, she thought. Her short, pixie cut hairstyle looked bouncy and soft, and her face looked relaxed, as if she was at least able to suppress, if not conceal, her nervousness.

  She opened the door.

  The woman, Miss Pacheco, wasn’t a bad looking woman at all, as Gemma assumed she would be. She was small bordering on thin, skin the color of straw, with shoulder-length brown hair, small brown eyes, and lips, by their pucker alone, that made Gemma wonder if she’d seen more than her share of fellatio activity in her day. She, in fact, had that been-around-the-block look all over her, as if she was once inordinately attractive before life got a hold of her.

  “Miss Jones,” William said, “this is Miss Pacheco.”

  “You already told her my name on the phone,” Miss Pacheco complained. “Why you got to tell it to her again for?”

  “Forgive me madam,” William said in that snobbish tone he often used when he was offended, “I was unaware that there were limits to the mentioning of your name.”

  Gemma wanted to smile, but she saw the look on the woman’s face.

  “Now you’re trying to be funny,” the woman said, moving from side to side. “But keep laughing. We’ll see who’s laughing when Sal fires your ass.”

  William looked at Gemma. “Would you like me to wait here with you?” he asked her.

  “Thanks, William,” Gemma said, appreciating his offer, “but that won’t be necessary.” Then she looked at the woman. “Come in, please, Miss Pacheco.”

  “Kate,” the woman said as she entered the home. “Call me Kate.”

  Gemma closed the door just as William was, seemingly reluctantly, turning to leave.

  “So who are you?” Kate asked. “His maid, his assistant, what?”

  Gemma took no offense. Mainly because Kate Pacheco, it seemed to her, was too self-absorbed to be worrying about offending her. “I’m Gemma Jones,” Gem said as she reached out her hand. “I’m Sal’s girlfriend.”

  The handshake stopped mid-shake, at least on Kate’s part, and she stared at Gemma. “His girlfriend?” she asked as if she assumed that role was already taken by somebody else. Her perhaps, Gemma thought.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Gemma said. “Would you care to sit down?” she added.

  Kate continued to stare at Gemma as she made her way to the sofa. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Gemma. When they arrived at the sofa, and they sat down, she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Since when?” she asked.

  Gemma inwardly debated even answering that question. She never liked giving info when she knew too little about the person she was feeding information to. But it wasn’t as if it was a secret. “Several months now,” she said.

  “Several months?”

  “That’s correct. Would you care for something to drink, Miss Pacheco?”

  “Sal never mentioned you. Not one time all those times he was in Jersey did he ever mention anybody like you. When he was dropping my drawers like it was nobody’s business he never mentioned you.”

  Gemma felt a strong sense of anguish when that woman said that. Not because she was surprised that Sal would have been with this woman (especially if she was, as it appeared, the mother of Sal’s child), but b
ecause the woman spoke of their coupling as if it was a recent, still-ongoing thing.

  But Gemma didn’t get into it with her. That would feed into the wrong plate. Gemma was the one who needed to be getting intel, not giving it. “I don’t know when Sal will make it back home,” she said as she stood and headed for the phone table, “so I’d better call him and let him know you’re here.”

  Kate didn’t seem to like that idea, but Gemma didn’t give her a choice to complain about it either. This woman had dramaville written all over her, it seemed to Gem. Sal needed to get home and deal with this.

  He was in a meeting when the call came in, but when he saw that it was his home number calling, he answered quickly. Only one person would be calling him from the perch of his penthouse. “Hey, babe, you made it in?” he answered as he stood up quickly and walked away from the negotiating table.

  “Yes,” Gemma replied. “I’m here at the house.”

  “Good. I can’t wait to see you again. I miss you so much.”

  “Kate Pacheco is here,” Gemma said.

  Sal stopped pacing and leaned against the window frame. “What?”

  “Kate Pacheco is here. She wants to see you.”

  Sal’s heart rammed against his chest. That bitch! “Okay,” he said to Gemma, “I’ll be there. Keep her ass in the lobby until I get there.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Gemma said. “She’s up here now.”

  Sal’s first thought was to want to strangle that William. But on second thought he knew William would not have just brought her up to the penthouse on his own instruction. Gemma, no doubt, told him to bring her up there.

  “I’m on my way,” he said to Gemma.

  “We’ll see you when you get here.”

  “I love you,” he said, but Gemma had already hung up the phone.

  Sal ended the meeting abruptly, citing an emergency, and made his way downstairs, to his Ferrari, and then drove, as if speed limits did not apply to him, to the Wingate.