First she showed Tree the big house, as Sal jokingly referred to the first house they had viewed days ago, and then she and Trina met Val at the new house. It was smaller than the big house by several thousand feet, but just as gorgeous and almost just as majestic.
Trina was impressed as they toured the property. She and Val, in fact, were gushing at all of the special features. But as Gemma walked around and looked around, she was far more circumspect. She didn’t say much, she just looked and looked and looked. Finally, when they stood in the middle of the gourmet kitchen, and neither Trina nor Val understood, Tree asked for an explanation.
“It is beautiful,” Gemma agreed. “It has everything I could want or need.”
“And it’s all you, Gem,” Trina said. “This house is your style up and down. It has you written all over it.”
“I agree,” Gemma agreed. “I’m not disagreeing with you at all.”
“It’s actually a larger version of the house you have now, Miss Jones,” Valerie chimed in. “That’s why I wanted you to see it.”
“And I get that,” Gemma said. “I agree with both of you. It is my style. It is not unlike my current residence.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Trina asked her.
“It’s not just about me. It’s for Sal too. I have to think about his style and his wants and needs also.”
“That’s a fair point,” Trina said. “Although I still say mama knows best. But I feel you. So what’s your conclusion?”
Gemma was still looking around, at the crown molding, at the cathedral ceilings. “This house isn’t it. It’s too . . . simple for Sal. It’s too . . .”
“Ordinary,” Trina said.
“Yes!” Gemma said. “Too normal for him.”
“You are so right,” Trina said, as if she was just realizing it. “Sal would go stir crazy in a place like this. You’re right. Although, if you really want it, I’m sure he’ll compromise. It’s smaller, yes, but that means it’s cheaper. He still might go for it.”
“But it’ll be like settling,” Gemma said.
“For him?”
“And me,” Gemma admitted. “Choosing this house will be as if a man offered me the world, and I told him no thanks, I’ll just take Manhattan, or Vegas, or Seattle.”
Trina laughed.
“I’m with Sal now,” Gemma said seriously. “I need to start behaving like it. I’m going to take the world.”
Trina nodded her head. “Okay now. I’m not mad at you! You’re in the big leagues now, you’re right about that.”
And later that night, when Gemma was in her home office reading over an inordinate amount of law briefs, she decided to give him a call. He rarely phoned when he was away on business, but she was getting worried about him. That phone call that sent him packing all those days ago, was bad news. She knew it by his demeanor alone then. She removed her reading glasses and leaned back in her chair, and waited for him to answer.
In Maryland, Sal wasn’t relaxed in a chair, but was running across an open field, outrunning Neeco and the rest of his men, as they chased and fired their weapons at Rip himself. But Rip and his men jumped in the waiting car and the car sped off. Sal’s men kept shooting as the car swerved down the road, but Sal gave up.
He leaned over to catch his breath. He placed his hands on his knees.
“Got away again,” Neeco said, leaning over too. “That motherfucker’s got more lives than a gotdamn cat!”
Then Sal stood erect. “We’ll catch his ass,” he said as if he was certain. “We’ll get him.”
“It’s a big world, Sal,” Neeco said.
“It ain’t that big! We’ll get him.”
And Sal began heading back across the field to his own waiting car. Neeco and the men followed him. His cell phone didn’t start ringing until they were in the car and heading back to their hotel room, to plot their next move.
When he saw that it was Gemma on the line, he answered quickly. “Hey,” he said, a concerned look on his flustered face.
Gemma, back in her home office in Vegas, smiled. Just hearing his voice made her feel warm inside. “Hey yourself.”
“What’s going on? You okay?”
“I’m good.”
There was a pause. Gemma could tell he was uncomfortable with her calling him out of the blue like this, as if it had to be something major or she should not have done it. She suddenly felt uneasy.
“So what’s up?” Sal asked. Why are you bothering me, was more in tune with what Gemma heard. Her friends used to warn her not to expect too much from her man. They used to insist that there was no way Sal was going on all of those business trips without getting some while he was on those trips. Plenty of some, one of her friends insisted.
“I wanted to let you know that I’ve made a decision on the house,” Gemma said.
“The house?”
She could feel his frown. She could feel his displeasure. He didn’t like to be bothered while he was “working,” and she should have known better. “Yes,” she said.
Another pause. He really wasn’t feeling this right now. Why did she call this man! “So you’re going to tell me your decision now,” Sal asked, “or next year?”
“Look, if it’s this a bad time, I can talk to you later.”
“No,” Sal said. And then she heard him exhale. “It’s alright. I’m just . . . So what have you decided? Found something better?”
“I didn’t find anything better. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I think we should put in an offer on the big house.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sal said, although he didn’t say it with his usual gusto. “I knew you’d see the light.”
Gemma smiled. “It’s a wonderful home. I think we can be very happy there. Val said we can close as early as Friday if they accept our offer.”
“Oh yeah?”
“That’s what she said. I was stunned. So when are you coming back?”
A heavy sigh. “Not for another few days looks like,” he said.
“Ah Sal, another few days?” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “It’s been nearly a week already. You said it would only take a few days before you left.”
Her comment angered Sal. “Something came up all right? Whatta you think I’m making this up? You think I’m playing some fucking game here?”
Gemma didn’t like the sharpness in his voice. “I wasn’t implying that your business wasn’t serious. I was just telling you what you said before you left.”
“That was before I left, Gemma, damn. Shit happens! Things changed by the time I got here.”
“I didn’t say things didn’t change. I don’t know why you’re tripping! You didn’t bother to phone me and tell me about these changes, so how was I supposed to know, Sal?”
“There’s nothing to know all right? I’ll be there when I get there. End of discussion. What’s with you tonight? I don’t need your bullshit tonight!”
“What bullshit?” Gemma asked. “And you can watch your tone with me.”
But her tone only heightened his. “Watch my tone?” he yelled. “You want me to watch my tone? Well I’ll hang up this fucking phone. How’s that for watching my fucking tone?”
And he hung up. Even his hang-up sounded harsh to Gemma. And just like that their biggest issue was revealed. That side business of Sal’s was going to be the end of them before they got started if they didn’t figure out a way to handle it better. Sal told her all he could. He told her that he had friends he sometimes had to help. Not just because of the friendship, but because they were his “crew” members. When Gemma asked why he would need to have a crew to begin with, his answer was as cryptic as the need for the crew itself. “Things go sideways on you,” he had said. “You have to be prepared.”
And that was the story of their relationship. It would be straight and wonderful, and then things would go sideways on them. And they weren’t usually prepared. Sal was under pressure. Probably tremendous pressure. And Gemma k
new he always lashed out when he was.
But she couldn’t go along with his outbursts. Not when they were directed at her. She was never going to allow him to make her the depositor of his anger when he should have been directing it at the person he was really angry with. She hated that he was under pressure, and if he would just tell her what was going on she would do what she could. But he didn’t tell her a damn thing. Not about that side of his business. Not about that kind of pressure.
But she still worried about him. It was as if he asked her to marry him, and her concern for him, which was already high, went sky-high. But she didn’t phone him back. No man, not even Sal, was going to hang up on her and then she was going to phone him back and apologize. As if she provoked him. As if she caused it. As if she deserved it.
She finished reading her briefs, and then went to bed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next night and Gemma Jones was tired. After a long morning in court and an even longer day at her office seeing new clients and counseling old ones, she finally packed up her paperwork, grabbed her handbag, and headed for the exit. Her secretary and paralegal had ended their workday nearly three hours earlier, and now it was nearly eleven at night. She still had law briefs to read and another court case to prepare for, but she was too tired. She turned off her office light, turned off the outer office light, and headed outside.
When she stepped out into the cool night air, she was stunned. Sal, looking sharp in his Tom Ford suit and Ferragamo dress shoes, was leaned against the front of her BMW with his arms folded and his legs crossed. She hadn’t heard from him since he hung up on her. She didn’t expect to hear from him until he returned to town. She was surprised that he was back already.
She was happy to see him. She was always happy to see him. But she maintained her cool. She locked her office door and then began her normal walk toward her car. But if she thought she would get a warm reception from him, she was mistaken. He was just as cool as she was.
Until she made it up to him. And he saw those beautiful, sincere eyes. And that short, soft, natural hair. And smelled her lovely scent. He didn’t mean for it to happen. He had every intention of coming here to apologize to her. But it happened anyway. He thought about her, and the risk she was taking, and what could have happened, and his anger rose again. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked her.
Gemma hesitated. She didn’t know what he meant. “Leaving my office,” she said.
“At what time, Gemma?”
Oh, that, she thought. “I had a lot to do, Sal. I lost track of time.”
She could tell he didn’t like that answer. He started moving around. “You lost track of time?”
“That’s right.”
“Look around.”
“Sal---”
“Look around!” he ordered.
Gemma sighed, but she looked around.
“How many people do you see around here?”
“You already know the answer, Sal.”
“How many people do you see around here?”
“Nobody,” she said.
“No fucking body!” he blared. “Except my wife!”
Gemma started to say that she wasn’t his wife yet, but she knew that would only make it worse. “Is that the reason you came back to Vegas? To continue to yell at me?”
It worked. Sal exhaled. “No,” he said. “It just drives me crazy when you don’t look out for yourself. And working alone until eleven at night, and then leaving this office alone with nobody in sight is a dangerous thing, Gem. You’ve got to cut this shit out. And you will when you become my wife.”
Gemma couldn’t argue with good sense. “You’re right,” she said. “I should have been more careful.”
“And I was wrong,” Sal said. “I was upset when you phoned, but it had nothing to do with you. I apologize, Gem. That’s why I came back.”
Gemma smiled. “Apology accepted.”
And that was all it took. They were on the same page again. Sal lifted her into his arms, and held her, and when they stopped embracing, he kissed her lovingly, with his big hand in the middle of her slender back.
At first Gemma wasn’t trying to feel his newfound affection, but as he held her, and she felt his arms around her, and on her, she couldn’t hold back either. She returned the affection.
They sighed as his tongue entered her mouth and his lips intertwined with hers.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” she said between kisses.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he responded, kissing her neck. “I had my girl upset. I had to make it right.”
He was on her mouth again. He didn’t know why she turned him on so intensely, but she turned him on in the deepest way. His penis was throbbing just seeing her again, and holding her again, and kissing her.
And making it home wasn’t going to work.
“You have two choices,” he said as they continued to kiss, and the heat continued to rise.
“What are the choices?”
“Your car or your office.”
Gemma leaned her head back as he kissed her down her neck. And she knew what the answer was.
“Office,” she said. “More room.”
That was all it took. Sal put her down, grabbed her by the hand, and hurried her back across the sidewalk to her office door. When they entered, they didn’t bother to turn on the light. Sal locked the door back, she dropped her purse and briefcase to the floor, and he had her back against the wall, her legs around his body, and they were kissing again. Even more passionately. He was surprised himself by how badly he wanted her.
He unbuttoned her blouse and lifted her bra as he continued to kiss her. She rubbed her hands through his hair and messed it up so decisively that his messy hair was a turn-on for her.
And then he was sucking her breasts. “Yes!” she hissed as he sucked her.
And then it was time. Sal hurried her over to the nearest desk: Curtis’s desk. He tossed aside the few papers on that desk, laid Gemma on it, and flung her panties down and off.
Then he began to eat her pussy. He knelt down and caused her to bite her bottom lip as the feelings ripped through her.
When his dick was straining to break free, he stood up, unzipped his pants, and freed it. Only to imprison it again, inside of Gemma’s warm wet pussy.
Sal fucked her with the certainty of a man who couldn’t get enough of his woman and that wonderful, on-the-edge of cum feeling. They stayed on the edge, both of them, as they made passionate love. And when the edge wasn’t enough, and they came, Sal lifted her into his arms and held her tightly. She was his. He came back to town to make sure, despite their disagreements, that she understood that.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“You’re the chef?”
The thin, stooped man stood proud. “That I am, sir.”
“Then I want to see you. Taste that.” Sal shoved his bowl of Italian soup toward the chef. He and Jimmy were seated in a booth inside a small restaurant near Jimmy’s house. Jimmy had invited Sal to lunch, to get his advice on a personal matter, but the bad food got them off to a rocky start.
“Go on,” Sal repeated to the chef, “taste it.”
“Sir, I know how it tastes.”
“But you won’t taste it, right? Because you know it tastes like shit.”
The chef looked around, hoping that no other patrons heard the conversation.
“Worse straciatella I’ve ever had in my life, and I’ve had some doozies. Get it out of here!”
The chef began to confiscate the soup. “We don’t issue refunds,” he said, “if that’s what you’re angling for.”
Sal looked at the man as if he had grown an extra ass, and he was about to kick them both, but Jimmy, knowing the disaster the scene was about to become, jumped up from his seat and got in between the man and his uncle. “Take the soup and go,” he urged the chef. “If you love your life, take the soup and go.”
The chef looked at the youn
g black man, and then he looked at the older white guy. His instinct told him to listen to the young man. He took the soup and left.
Jimmy, relieved, sat back down.
“What you bring me in this rathole for,” Sal asked, “with this shit-ass food?”
“It’s not a rathole, Uncle Sal,” Jimmy said. “And the food is good. Not that soup, he probably didn’t know how to fix that right, but everything else is pretty good. Try this,” Jimmy said as he put a helping of pasta on his fork and shoved it toward his uncle’s mouth.
“What, you gonna feed me like we’re two fucking lovers? Get that shit out of my face!”
Jimmy laughed, and removed his fork. “You’ve got to eat something, Unc.”
“I’m not hungry. That’s why I only ordered a soup. My stomach’s been bothering me lately.”
“Between asking Miss Jones to marry you, and buying that palace, and now planning for a wedding, you’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“It’s not a palace, and we’re going to interview some wedding planners to plan the wedding, but I get your point. I’ve got a lot going on.”
And seemingly to prove the point, his cell phone rang. He looked at the Caller ID. It was Neeco. “Any news?”
“Nothing,” Neeco said. “He was spotted in Philly. We went there. He was spotted in Jersey. We went there. He was spotted in fucking DC, but nothing. We can’t find his ass.”
“What about Ang?” Sal asked.
“She’s not talking. Claim she doesn’t know anything.”
“What do you mean she’s not talking? Did you put it to the bitch?”
“She’s a grieving mother, Sal. She’s an asshole, but she’s still a grieving mother. How do you want me to put it to her? Water board her?”
Sal rubbed his forehead. He felt out of sorts. Uneasy. “No,” he said. “’Course not.”
“We’ll find him boss, don’t worry. Forget Angela. Rip killed Lonnie’s kid. Lonnie worked for you for years before he died. He was one of us. Rip ain’t getting away with this.”
Sal Gabrini 4: I'll Take You There (The Gabrini Men Series Book 7) Page 11
