by LeCoeur, Ami
"Oh, no worries, hon. You just sit there as long as you need. I'll go put these on Mancini's desk. But my guess is that the Ice Princess will keep him busy all afternoon."
She looked over at me. "I'm sorry, I try not to have an opinion of the people who walk through that door. But something about that woman just sets me on edge."
You and me both, sister. I closed my eyes. You and me both.
Chapter Ten
“Sick again?” Maria asked the next morning, giving me the "Mom tone" as she arched her brow.
I trudged into the kitchen, splitting headache and all. Taking the cup of coffee she handed me, I inhaled the wake-up fumes. Maybe the coffee would stave off the migraine I could feel starting up. I had spent the night tossing and turning. Angry with Antonio. Furious with Naomi. Sorry for myself. Feeling despair.
“Maria, I’m not in the mood for a scolding, okay?”
“I’m not judging, Sis,” she said softly.
"Thanks. I'm not ready to talk about it." Besides, you already know most of it anyway. I didn't get migraines very often, but when I did, they were totally debilitating. I thought maybe if I spent the day in my room, covers up over my head, I could just avoid everything—the migraine, Maria's questions, Antonio's indifference, Naomi's viciousness, my own self-pity. It's amazing what a good sleep can heal.
"I've already called in—I think I'll go back to bed," I told her, tears welling up in my eyes. I felt guilty enough on my own—this was the first time I'd taken a day off from the store.
"Is this about the job? Sis, I can't let you wallow in self-pity."
I started to protest, but she cut me short.
“You’ll tell me what’s up when you’re ready. In the meantime, I suggest you need a change of scene. Let's get you outside for some fresh air. Go change into something casual and then come back for a quick breakfast."
I noticed she'd been making sandwiches on the counter and packing things into a small cooler.
"I don't think I can face anyone today, Maria …" I protested.
"Go on, scoot!" she shoved me gently in the direction of my room. "Get a move on, young lady!"
Chapter Eleven
MARIA
Thompson shook his head, giving me a look that said he was going to be a very hard sell on my plan. “Miss Maria,” he said, “You can't ask me to pull such a prank on my boss."
I slipped my hand into his. "Oh, Thompson! It's not a prank. All I want is for you not to say anything about her coming with us." I didn't want him thinking there was more to this than just the need for Angela to have some space.
I stroked his hand gently, noticing the calluses on his palms. Calluses on hands that were always so gentle. I smiled up at him. “I know it sounds a little off, But… it’s complicated. I can’t really explain it all to you, because it’s not my place to speak my sister’s business, but she really needs this break. I don't want you to do anything dishonest. All I ask is that you not volunteer anything. Please Thompson.”
He hesitated and for a moment, his brow furrowed as he looked right through me. I was afraid he was going to cancel our entire outing today, but then he sighed.
I squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” I said, raising his hand to my cheek.
He blushed. The man actually blushed!
“Ok,” he began, shaking his head at me. “But, please, let's not mention this in front of Emily. I don’t want her involved. And I especially don't want to set any bad examples for her.
“Cross my heart,” I said, sincerely, performing the necessary action. In truth, I found his trepidation over covering for Angela playing hooky from work endearing. He took work very seriously, and there was something special about his respect for Antonio Mancini. The same man my sister was avoiding right now as if he was some kind of ogre carrying the plague.
I suspected there was a lot more than she'd shared with me. I’m sure, at least in her own mind, she had good reason. I didn’t know the specifics of her relationship with the man I'd once thought could be her Prince Charming, but I knew my sister. She wasn’t the kind of woman who'd let herself be compromised, even for someone like Antonio Mancini—regardless of what he might offer.
Whatever she needed to work through, I was going to help her get through it. And if doing something entirely out of the ordinary—like spending a day enjoying a picnic with Thompson, Emily and me—could help clear her mind, or even give her a new perspective, then I was going to do what I could.
“Hi Thompson,” Angela said, almost shyly, as she emerged from the hall. She’d showered and dressed in a simple white t-shirt and a jean skirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail and, despite the darkness under her eyes, she looked like my beautiful sister again. Instead of the sad, tormented stranger who'd walked through the door last night.
“Hello, Miss Angela,” he answered, nodding as he quickly released my hand, heading to open the door for us.
Angela, not missing a thing, gave me a wink.
I smiled back at her. “Are you ready to get some fresh air?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Twelve
ANGELA
I hadn't been so certain that a drive to the park was something I wanted to do today. I didn't get them often, but when I did, my migraines usually kept me shut up inside where it was dark—usually with the covers over my head.
But today the air felt soft against my skin, and I hoped the sunglasses and baseball cap would protect me from too much light, too soon. Besides, I liked that Maria was so excited about getting outside, and it was nice to see a totally different side of Thompson.
I'd pulled Thompson aside while Maria was gathering the rest of her art supplies.
"Thank you for the ramp. I really appreciate it," I told him.
He shrugged. "There’s nothing to thank. It was needed so Maria could come and go easily."
"Well, it was a wonderful thing to do. I appreciate you helping her get her mobility back. And I appreciate the time you and Emily share with her. It's made a world of difference for her."
"That goes both ways, ma'am," he said, his eyes flickering over at my sister and taking on a softness that warmed my heart.
Once we'd gotten to the park, I watched Thompson pick Emily up as if she weighed nothing, setting her on his shoulders. Her smile was so bright and her laughter contagious, I instantly understood why Maria was so captivated by this child. I didn't even know her, but she lifted my spirits, too. I enjoyed watching the three of them together—it took my mind off my own problems temporarily.
I glanced at Maria, who was busy sketching in her pad, pausing every now and then to join in the teasing and laughter.
“And the fairy prince flew to the very top of the mountain,” Emily said, continuing her story. Thompson obliged, marching through the grass, lifting her even higher. “But when he got there, he discovered that the witch was waiting for him. ‘You’ll never get the Sword of Truth,’ the witch said with an eeevil cackle. And when the fairy prince reached for the sword, it turned to ice.”
“Wait a minute,” said Maria, scribbling furiously, “Does the sword actually turn into ice? Or does the witch encase it in ice?”
Thompson paused, and on his shoulders, Emily gazed thoughtfully into the distance.
“The witch traps everything the prince wants in ice,” Emily said finally with a conclusive nod.
Maria returned the nod and went back to her sketching. Thompson waited patiently for his daughter’s next instructions, gazing lovingly up at her.
It was the perfect moment, and I wished I had my camera to capture it. Maria had convinced me to take my camera when I went away on the cruise, and I was glad she had. Before that, I’d gotten into the mindset of using my camera only as a tool to earn some money with wedding and family portraits. But having it with me on the cruise brought back my enjoyment of capturing the perfect image at the perfect moment. Just like the one in front of me of Thompson smiling adoringly at his pensive daughter.
I ma
de a mental note that, from now on, I'd grab my camera whenever I left the house. How else could I capture spontaneous images like these? I didn’t have to be in a perfect setting or some exotic locale to take beautiful photographs. Beauty and perfection were everywhere. Especially in the things that aren’t perfect.
A phone buzzed and Thompson reached into his pocket for his phone. Emily paused politely while her father spoke. After a moment, he carefully set her down, murmuring something to her as he reached to retrieve her crutches.
Maria took a break, beckoning Emily and me over to see what she’d done so far, while Thompson stepped away to deal with his phone call.
“The prince’s hair needs to be longer,” Emily said, casting her critical eye over Maria’s visual translation of the story. “And maybe his wings should be a little shorter? So he doesn’t get them caught in the trees when he’s flying really fast.”
“Good thinking,” I said, picking up Maria’s eraser from where it had fallen on the grass.
“Feeling any better?” Maria asked softly, setting to work on making the changes to the prince’s appearance.
I took a deep sigh, looking around at the trees and gardens. I realized that yes, I was feeling better. In fact, I hadn't even thought about Antonio and … my disappointment … at least not since we'd gotten to the park.
“Sis, Emily is just so sweet. It's really wonderful to see you three together,” I said. “Thompson is so different from the by-the-book, stiff-shouldered limo driver I met originally.”
Maria chuckled. “Oh, he’s still very much that guy. He takes his job very seriously, but he’s not always on duty, you know.”
“Mmm, never really thought about that. I guess everyone has different sides of themselves they reveal in different situations.”
“Uh oh,” Emily said, and we glanced over to see that she was looking at her dad. Thompson was marching towards us with a tight-lipped expression on his face.
“Looks like his work side again,” Maria said.
“That was Mr. Mancini,” he said to us. It was clear he wasn’t going to say anymore, but the name and the expression on his face was enough. He was definitely in business mode. But when he bent down to Emily, his face softened. “I’m sorry, punkin, but we have to cut our picnic short today. We can still make our movie date tonight, okay?”
Emily looked a little disappointed, but only for a moment. “It’s okay, Daddy,” she said, leaning into his embrace. “I know work is important. You have your 'sponsibilities.”
Now that made me feel guilty, especially since Thompson was about to go back on the clock for the man I was doing my best to avoid.
“I’m glad you could join us today, Miss Angela,” Emily said, hugging me.
"Oh, honey, me too. Thank you for letting me come along. It was very special for me. I especially liked your stories."
I looked up, catching Thompson’s nod of approval. I knew he was bending his own rules to accommodate Maria, and I appreciated his gesture. I'd never really known how he felt about me, but I suspected he tolerated me mostly because of Mancini—and Maria. But today there was something more in the look that passed between us. Something slightly protective of "his girls", some small signal that told me I could trust him not to betray my little day off to Antonio. And for that, I was grateful.
Chapter Thirteen
ANTONIO
“He’s the cutest little thing, but sometimes, I just want to send him back to the boutique for another massage because I don’t think he’s worked out all his stress yet. I want him to stop yapping at every cat that appears on the television screen. Let’s stop at the pet store on our way home. I want to get you a puppy, Tony.”
I stopped chewing at the inside of my cheek long enough to answer her. “I don’t want a puppy, Naomi.” I hadn't really been listening to her incessant chatter about her damn dog. Maybe she needed a massage to stop her yapping. Thankfully, the cab pulled up in front of the restaurant a moment later.
“Please, Naomi, just do as I’ve asked in this meeting, all right?”
I opened the door and got out. I didn’t have to turn around to know that Naomi was preening beside me, waiting for me to come around to open the door for her. For a moment, I considered just walking off and leaving her in the cab, or sending her home.
But I needed her. She looked the part, acted the part, and now that I'd brought her in, she was an integral member of the plan.
I gritted my teeth, walking around to her door and offering her my hand.
“I’ll be good,” she cooed, leaning against me. “Just remember, you owe me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Chez LaRocca, a new fusion cuisine restaurant that I’d invested in, was not very busy. They'd kept their grand opening on the down low, inviting only specific clientele at first to help build their exclusive reputation through word of mouth, rather than with big fan fare. It wasn’t my place to question the owner’s marketing strategy, which, despite the sparse seating, actually seemed to be working in a slow and steady fashion.
But for now, the fewer people around, the better I liked it.
I guided Naomi to a table in the corner where the others were already seated. The pasty-whiteness of Walker's face belied the two-week tropical cruise he'd shared with me. I probably wouldn’t have fared much better myself if it hadn’t been for Angela accompanying me.
In retrospect, I doubt I could have made it through that trip at all without punching something—or someone—if it hadn’t been for her. I was lucky she'd come to me about her sister's operation just before the cruise. And luckier still that she'd agreed to come along. She'd given me an excuse not to spend the entire cruise dealing with dirty politicians and corrupt businessmen.
It was as much a surprise to me as it was to her when I suddenly invited her along. I don't know what stroke of genius had popped that idea into my head. Maybe it was my own sense of desperation.
I'd fully intended to keep things cool and business-like between us, just enjoying her company as a mild distraction. Not that she wasn't lovely to look at. She had that youthful freshness that was more a part of her personality than her age. And lord knew it was getting harder and harder to keep her off my mind.
I smiled a little to myself, recalling the morning she’d stepped out of her room wearing that temptingly sexy, flimsy, purple lingerie. . I had wanted her so badly, it took everything I had not to just give in and grab her right there. Talk about painful, in more ways than one.
The music in the background reminded me of Angela swaying on the veranda in the moonlight, slipping off her clothes, piece by piece…
My cock twitched in my pants and I slid a hand in my pocket, casually readjusting myself. I had to stop this, I had business to attend to; I couldn’t think about her warm smile and soft skin; I needed to shove away the memories of how tight and warm she was as I slid inside her, the soft sounds she made, the way her hands curled in my hair when she came…
Dammit.
Regardless of my need, or hers, or anything that happened between us, she's still an innocent. She has nothing to do with this and I don't dare expose her to any of it. Not yet. It's too dangerous, and there's too much at stake. All I can do is try to keep her out of this mess and hope that in the meantime she won't come to hate me too much…
“Mancini!” Walker said in that insufferably whiny voice of his.
“Always so punctual,” said a voice behind me. I turned to find Carmiante heading toward us, evidently just coming back from the men's room.
“His daddy taught him well,” Naomi drawled, extending a hand for Carmiante to kiss. "So nice to see you again, Jorge. Gentlemen." She smiled around the table.
"Naomi. Delighted as always," Carmiante smiled his unctuous smile, the smugness of his lips giving him an edge of cruelty. None of the ’gentlemen' failed to notice her ample cleavage as she leaned forward to greet each of them in turn.
Subtlety. Not exactly Naomi’s strong suit.
Y
et another reason why I wished Angela was here with me instead. But I couldn’t take that kind of chance. I doubted she'd ever really understand this crowd and I couldn't deliberately put her in danger. Besides, familiarity, real or imagined, was something Naomi was very comfortable with.
“We don’t have much time this evening, gentlemen,” I said, trying not to sound as eager to have this done and over with as I actually felt. I pulled out a chair for Naomi, then sat beside her.
“Let’s get right down to business then,” said Lorenzo Cartoli. I noticed him eyeing the door. His political career had skyrocketed in the past eight months, largely thanks to these same "gentlemen" seated around the table. In fact, he was currently pretty much in line to be our next mayor. The irony was that he couldn’t be seen with them too often, even if we were seated way in the back of the room.
“Can’t we order a few drinks first, gentlemen?” Naomi purred. “We can be civilized, can we not?”
Carmiante waved a waiter over to take our orders while Naomi dominated the conversation with inane chatter, openly flirting with each of the men.
“I would love to play poker with y'all some time,” she said. "If Tony, my Man, would lighten up some." She leaned over to jab me playfully in the arm. I smiled at her, playing her game, but my hand tightened into a fist at my side.
The waiter brought our drinks and Carmiante managed to wrestle the conversation from Naomi long enough to turn to business.
"The way I see it, we can either convince Stephens to play on our side, or we set him up as a fall guy."
"But you can't do both at the same time. And what are the chances he'll come along willingly? You only have so much time." I let my position be understood.
"Well there's a third option—that's to make sure he doesn't win the upcoming election." Carmiante stared meaningfully at Cartoli.
"But do we have enough pull to carry that off? Who do we know at City Hall?" Walker asked.
