Fired (Worked Up Book 1)

by Cora Brent

  Tara poked me and pointed a few doors down. “It’s that one.”

  “What?”

  “That’s where Dominic lives.”

  I stared at the plain brown door. “That’s nice,” I said. “I didn’t know that. I mean, I’ve never been to his place. I’d have no reason to go there.” I started to cough just so I could stop myself from babbling.

  “Oh, Melanie.” Tara grabbed my arm and squeezed it as we walked toward my car. “It’s okay. I know you and Dominic are together.”

  “You know?” I squeaked. I tried to press the unlock button on my key fob, but I was clumsy and accidentally hit the alarm. It was loud. Faces peered over balcony walls as I fumbled, dropped the keys, picked them up, and frantically pushed buttons in search of a way to make the noise stop.

  Tara gently took my keys away and pressed the correct button. My ears rang from the sudden silence.

  So Tara knew.

  And if Tara knew . . .

  “Gio knows,” I said flatly. “Doesn’t he?”

  She shrugged. “Of course.”

  I swallowed. Shit. And here we had flattered ourselves that we were such good actors no one could possibly suspect. “How did he figure it out?”

  “Well, Dom admitted it to him. And it’s been a big topic of gossip among the staff, even over at Espo 1.”

  “Dom admitted it? And the staff knows?”

  “Yup.”

  “So the staff knows. You know. Gio knows.”

  “Mel, it’s really all right.”

  “Is it? Is there anyone who still doesn’t know? Maybe the governor of Arizona ought to call a press conference to make sure.” Somehow, I’d started shouting. A young couple, out walking their poodle around the courtyard, stopped and stared.

  Tara gave me a brief hug. “You seem a little shaky. I’ll drive. My car’s just over there.”

  By the time I was sitting in the passenger seat with my seatbelt on, I felt better. So what if everyone knew about Dominic and me? It couldn’t have stayed a secret forever. I never even wanted it to stay a secret forever. We wouldn’t walk into work tomorrow and start making out in the kitchen as the cooks eyeballed us, but at least the big reveal was out of the way. This should actually be a good thing. Why didn’t I feel like it was a good thing?

  Tara sang along to the radio and left me to my inner monologue as we headed west on the freeway.

  “You okay over there?” she finally asked.

  “Yeah. Sorry I flipped out a little.”

  She winked at me. “No worries.”

  I laced my fingers together in my lap. “It’s so new,” I said. “I mean, we spent weeks in a will-they-or-won’t-they kind of status, and already it just feels so right it’s kind of scary. I think it’s my ingrained cynicism that keeps warning me that something bad is bound to happen.”

  “Like what?” Tara asked gently.

  “I don’t know.” I heaved a gigantic sigh. “There’re times when we’re together, and it’s like there’s no one on earth except the two of us. And then other times it feels like a struggle.”

  “What feels like a struggle?”

  I didn’t know how to explain it, why I felt like there was an invisible barrier that only allowed me partial access to Dominic.

  “Finding a way in,” I answered slowly. “Reaching a level of intimacy that tells me what makes him tick.”

  She kept her eyes on the road but nodded. “Can’t necessarily help you there. Dominic can be something of an enigma.”

  I studied my friend. “Was it hard with Gio?”

  “Gio?” She broke into a wide grin. “No, nothing was hard with Giovanni. We just fit. Like a lock and key.”

  “I’m so crazy about him, Tara,” I blurted out, and immediately felt embarrassed.

  She patted my knee and smiled. “I know you are.”

  “I’m just not sure what happens now.”

  “What do you want to happen?”

  I thought about it. “I want to be with him. I want to come first with him. Is that selfish?”

  Tara shook her head. “No, Mel, that’s not selfish.”

  I chewed my lip. “Is it possible? I know his history. I know in the past he’s had his fun now and then, but doesn’t do relationships. The restaurants are his relationship. That’s what he loves.”

  Tara pulled over to the side of the road and gave me her full attention. “That’s not the only thing he loves, Melanie.”

  I sank into the seat a little and sighed. “I know he loves your family, Tara. He’d do anything for you guys, so I know he has a good heart. I’m just wondering if there’s really room for me in it.”

  She looked straight ahead, the light from the streetlamps washing over her thoughtful profile. “There are layers there. Layers that I’m certain no one has ever been able to peel away, not even Gio. Dominic’s like my brother, but I don’t know everything about him.” She paused. “Remember a few minutes ago when you said you were crazy about him?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  She touched my hand comfortingly. “Start there. Whatever Dominic’s flaws, Gio told me he’s never seen anyone get to Dominic the way you have. That means something, doesn’t it?”

  Now it was my turn to be thoughtful. “I hope so.”

  Tara seemed satisfied and returned to the road. Lucy would have hounded me by now for some dirty bedroom details, but Tara didn’t. Then again Dominic was her brother-in-law, so she probably didn’t want to hear tales of his sexual prowess.

  At the museum, we walked through the gallery, giggling and sampling more than our fair share of stuffed mushrooms from the hors d’oeuvres platters. It was an early night because Tara had promised her mother she’d pick up Leah before ten thirty.

  When we left the museum, I looked toward downtown, thinking of Esposito’s and wondering if Dominic was still there cleaning up since it had closed half an hour earlier. Tara dropped me off at my car before heading to get Leah. I scanned the parking lot for Dominic’s silver pickup truck but didn’t see any sign of it. I wished I did. I wanted to see him here, in his own environment. I wanted to know what kind of sheets he chose for his bed and what color his couch was. These were small, insignificant things, but I wanted to know them anyway.

  “Thanks, Mel,” Tara called as I exited her minivan. “Thanks for indulging an adult-deprived mama and venturing out into the world with me.”

  I waved. “Thanks for asking me. And thanks for the girl talk.”

  Tara winked and drove off.

  I stood there in the parking lot for a moment. It was a weekday, and everything was quiet. Somewhere close on an unseen balcony, a woman laughed.

  There were no new texts on my phone. I could have just sent him a message saying, “Hey, I’m at your place. Let’s stay here tonight.” He’d have no reason to say no. I didn’t know why I was afraid to do it. Maybe the reason had something to do with the fact that he’d apparently already had an important talk with his brother about me and hadn’t seen fit to mention it. Instead I heaved a deep sigh, got behind the wheel of my car, and drove home where Luke and Lando waited. I slipped off my pinching heels, knelt down, and rubbed their furry heads.

  Forty-five minutes later Dominic rang my doorbell, even though he didn’t need to. He had a key now. But when I opened up, he was standing there with a dozen roses, a cardboard box, and a rather shy grin.

  “For me?” I asked when he held the flowers out. My instant smile was genuine. Other women might receive flowers all the time, but I’d never been one of them.

  “Of course it’s for you,” he said, amused.

  I sniffed the flowers. “What’s in the box?”

  “Open it.”

  Dominic followed me when I carried the box and flowers to the kitchen. I set the bouquet down and carefully pried open the cardboard edges of the box. I opened the lid and stared at what was inside.

  “Told you I had a friend,” he explained. “Rafael. He owns Picayo’s Mexican Restaurant up on Camelback
. He made these for you on special order. He said he’d be happy to host a cooking lesson.”

  I was still staring wordlessly at the neatly packed tamales lined up in the box, so Dominic might have felt like he needed to keep talking.

  “I know it won’t be exactly the same as your dad’s recipe,” he said, sounding a little uncertain, “but I thought it would make you happy.”

  “It does,” I whispered. “It really does.”

  He grinned. “Did you have fun tonight?”

  “Yes. We had a great time,” I said, intentionally leaving out the part where we’d tried to sort through the mystery of him.

  He nodded, somewhat absently. “Good,” he said. Then he cleared his throat. “Remember what I said earlier?”

  “About what?”

  “About how I wished I was the one taking you out on your night off. I meant it, Mel. I don’t want you to ever think there’s only one reason I’m here every night.”

  So that’s what this was about. The flowers, the tamales. It was nearly midnight now, and Dominic had headed to the restaurant just after dawn this morning. He must be exhausted. This was the closest thing to a date Dominic could offer tonight.

  “I don’t think that,” I said as I reached up and kissed him, lingering on his mouth as his hands circled my waist. The kiss quickly turned deep, passionate, our tongues playing an erotic game that our bodies ached to join. He pressed against me, and I felt the whole hard length of his arousal.

  “Been thinking about you all day,” he groaned, hitching my dress up and bending his head low enough to teasingly run his tongue along my neckline. He smelled like the wood-burning ovens at Esposito’s. He felt as hot as fire itself.

  “Show me,” I begged, and hastily pushed my panties down.

  Dominic lifted me with a grunt. We didn’t go slowly. We tore and pushed and stroked and licked. We consumed each other wordlessly again and again. We’d fall asleep for a little while, then he roused me for yet another round. Once, while I was riding him and feeling the slow rise of my own personal tidal wave, I looked down into his eyes and lost all sense of place and time. It seemed like I’d never felt this connected to anyone, not ever.

  There were still unsaid things between us, but they could wait.

  For tonight they could wait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  DOMINIC

  Sonoran Acres called at nine o’clock on Friday morning to tell me Donna had broken her left hip. I’d just left Melanie’s and was in my truck anyway, so I made a detour and headed for the hospital. I texted Gio from the parking lot, then shot off another text to Melanie, telling her my grandmother had a medical emergency and I needed Melanie to open Espo 2 at eleven. She answered back immediately, asking if there was anything she could do to help. I told her I’d be in touch as soon as I knew more, but for the time being I needed her to manage Espo 2. Then I stuffed my phone in my pocket and headed for the emergency room doors.

  The cranky nurse who’d scolded me the night I escorted Donna home late after the friends and family event had accompanied the ambulance.

  “What the hell happened?” I growled, knowing I sounded like a bear but not caring because my heart had been in my throat ever since I got that call.

  The woman didn’t bristle over my tone. Instead she gave me a sympathetic look and explained that Donna had left her room in the middle of the night and walked all the way to the kitchen on the other side of the building. Evidently she’d been trying to bake something; mixing bowls and a variety of ingredients cluttered the counter. The night janitor found her sprawled on the floor in a pile of white flour, her left leg bent at a wicked angle. When she couldn’t even sit in a wheelchair and confusedly called for Leo, the nurse phoned an ambulance.

  “Leo’s my grandfather,” I told her. “He’s been dead for thirteen years.”

  My mind flashed back to the long ago night when Leo Esposito died in the darkness, mere feet away from the restaurant he’d dedicated his life to. It was after two a.m., and I was drunk when I finally stumbled home to find Gio crying alone at our grandparents’ kitchen table.

  “Where were you, Dom?” he’d wailed through his tears. “Where were you?” Then he jumped out of his chair and hugged me fiercely, because he was frightened and because he was heartbroken and because I was his big brother.

  “I know,” the nurse nodded. The tag on her purple scrubs said her name was Gloria. I’d missed that detail the last time we met. “She kept crying his name in the ambulance, begging us to call him and let him know what had happened to her.”

  I peered down the corridor. A woman pushed a sad-eyed, old man in a wheelchair. He didn’t even look up as they rolled past. A security guard watched the empty hall.

  “Is she down there?” I asked. “Can I see her?”

  “The doctor’s examining her right now. It’s almost certain she’ll need surgery, but she also banged her head against a metal cabinet when she slipped, so they need to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion before she goes under general anesthesia.”

  I slumped against the wall. I understood the risks of a woman Donna’s age going through major surgery.

  Gloria patted my arm in comfort, and I saw the kindness in her eyes. “I know how devoted you and your brother are to your grandmother,” she said. “We all love that dear lady too.”

  Only seconds later the doctor emerged with a status report. The fracture on the left hip would indeed require surgery; however before proceeding, the medical team had decided to wait twenty-four hours and keep Donna under observation for a head injury. Upon arrival she’d been frightened and confused. She kept calling for my grandfather and her children. The doctor observed that she now seemed lucid. She understood where she was and what had happened. Now she only called for Gio and me.

  Gio arrived breathless in the middle of all this, and Dr. Martin summarized what she’d already told me.

  “We’re getting her admitted and moving her to a private room,” the doctor said. “But you’re welcome to go back there and see her now.”

  “Thanks,” I said brusquely and hurried down the hall, my brother right on my heels.

  My grandmother had always been a small woman, but in a hospital bed, she looked so frail and frightened I nearly wept. For all intents and purposes, Donna Esposito had been a mother to me and Gio since we were tiny. She was our hero. It crushed us to see her weak and in pain.

  “Hi, Donna,” I said softly as we approached her side. “It’s us. It’s Dom and Gio.”

  For a split second she gave us an odd, puzzled look. Then she burst into a radiant smile. “My boys,” she cried and raised her thin arms in search of an embrace. “My little boys. Well, not so little anymore, but still my boys.”

  We took turns hugging her with care, relieved to find that she really did recognize us. An ugly purple bruise bloomed on her right temple.

  “Are you in pain?” Gio asked as he held her hand.

  “Yes.” She winced. “I’m so thirsty. Can one of you boys bring me a glass of water?”

  Gio glanced at me. “Should we ask someone first?”

  “Probably,” I said, looking at the IV that stretched from Donna’s wrist.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said, and tenderly kissed her cheek.

  I pulled a chair up to my grandmother’s bedside. She shivered, but I was afraid to pile more covers on top of her because of her broken hip.

  She smiled at me and brushed a hand against my cheek. “You were always such good boys,” she said dreamily. “Leo never really forgave Marie for leaving you, but I couldn’t stay angry at her.” A cloud passed over her face. “I hate that she hurt you, though.”

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “We had you and Papa Leo. We had everything.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes. She must have been exhausted. I didn’t know how long it would take before the attendants came to move her to a private room, but maybe it would be best if she dozed off until then. I was searching for a swit
ch that would allow me to dim the lights when her eyelids fluttered.

  “Is Stevie coming?”

  “Steven?” I stopped cold at the mention of my estranged cousin’s name.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat and grew more animated. “That lady reporter said she would send him a plane ticket to come out for the opening of your new restaurant. I haven’t received anything from him since Christmas, but she said she could find him. I’d love to see my great-granddaughters. Stevie sent me the girls’ school pictures last year. So pretty. Just like Beth.”

  Reporter. Steven. Beth. Girls.

  The words ran through my head in a red-lettered marquee.

  Everything was hopelessly connected; Leo’s death, the bankruptcy of Esposito’s, the scandalous drama of my cousin and his wife.

  My cousin, Steven, eight years older, was tall, brash, and a mirror image of his father, both in looks and temperament. I idolized him before I knew any better. He’d never had much patience for two scrawny little boys who trailed after him in awe, but now and then he’d make a nice gesture like teaching us poker in the giant restaurant pantry or sneaking a pair of Italian ices to our table when we were supposed to be eating dinner. Steven was big and bold with a cutting wit, and it seemed to me like he could rule the world if he wanted to. There were always girls swirling around him like honeybees, but only one had ever stood out in my mind. Beth. Sweet, beautiful Beth. Steven and Beth had a tumultuous relationship in high school. They got married at age nineteen and bitterly separated six years later. They did eventually get back together, but I never knew if they stayed that way.

  Steven’s father, Frank, Donna and Leo’s only son, was the de facto heir to our restaurant. But as Gio and I approached our teen years, the plans changed a little. Our grandparents were concerned about Frank’s gambling addiction and lackluster managerial skills. Plus they felt we were entitled to a share of the family business. I remembered the fights over this. There was Uncle Frank throwing a plate against the wall in the middle of Easter dinner and snarling about betrayal. There was my grandmother physically stepping between her husband and son when an argument in the middle of Esposito’s crowded dining room threatened to get physical. I always wondered if all that strain contributed to my grandfather’s stroke.