on.”
“But what will you use?”
“I think I can find another one,” he said drily.
Right. Of course. Her skin turned ice cold, the reality of keeping guns in her house, of keeping men who used guns in her house not just distasteful, but bone-chilling. No matter how sweet his words, or hot the sex, she couldn’t forget who or what Joey La Torre was: a made man in the mafia. A killer. The kind of guy who winds up in jail or dead--just like her father.
Sophie seemed nervous as they drove to Al’s for the barbecue. He remembered the way she’d bristled when he’d invited her and wondered if it was painful for her to be around her father’s compares . He put a hand on her knee and squeezed but she only stiffened. Parking the car, he led her through the side gate into the backyard where the men were all standing around the grill and the children were playing a game of touch football on the lawn.
He greeted them and introduced Sophie. “You all remember Sophie Palazzo? Artie’s daughter?”
“Yeah, of course,” they all said.
“Hi, Pauly,” she offered, with an awkward little wave. He wondered if Pauly was the only one she remembered. “This is Alex, Sammy, and my brother, Don Alberto.”
Al stuck out his hand and she shook it, not quite meeting his eye. “It’s good to see you, Sophie. It’s been a long time--too long.”
There was criticism in Al’s remark, and Sophie didn’t miss it. She gave a little shrug. “Well, it hasn’t been high on my list, but Joey didn’t give me much of a choice this time.”
He stiffened with the rest of the men. What the fuck? He took Sophie by the elbow, in a hurry to lead her away before any more damage was done. Al had raised his eyebrows and he wanted her out of there before his brother spoke.
He tugged her along until they reached the side of the house, where he bent his head and hissed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She lifted her chin. “What?”
“Don’t give me that. You were deliberately rude, not just to my compares , but to the boss.”
Her lip curled. “The boss?” she sneered. “The boss is your brother.”
He gave her a little shake. “That’s even worse!”
When she continued to look stubborn, he released her, fearing in his frustration he might squeeze her arms too hard or frighten her. He put his hands on his hips and blew his breath out, looking back toward the direction of the men. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut if you can’t say something nice, capisce ?” She started to stalk off and he caught her arm, pulling her back. “ Capisce ?” he demanded.
A muscle in her jaw jumped. “ Capito ,” she spit out, pulling free of his hold. “I understand you perfectly.” The bitterness in her voice cut him like glass.
She stalked into the house like she owned the place, so he left her on her own. She would know enough women inside to make herself comfortable, if she could manage to be polite. He walked back to the grill, gritting his teeth at the prospect of facing the men after that less than ideal introduction to his new girlfriend.
Al ignored him when he came up, so the others took his cue and looked into their drinks, or off into the distance.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
Al gave him an appraising look. “Real nice, Joey. So, I guess she is a bitch like her mother.” He looked at Sammy as if the two of them had been discussing her.
His teeth snapped together, the muscles of his jaw straining so hard one side started twitching. Al’s eyes traveled from the fists clenched at his side to his face. “That wouldn’t go well for you,” he said, flicking his eyes back to the fists with his customary superiority that made Joey want to throttle him. With great effort, he unclenched his fingers.
“She was bitchy,” he said, satisfied that he kept his tone even. “But she’s not a bitch.”
“If you say so,” Al said, flipping a burger.
“Sophie Palazzo!”
“But what will you use?”
“I think I can find another one,” he said drily.
Right. Of course. Her skin turned ice cold, the reality of keeping guns in her house, of keeping men who used guns in her house not just distasteful, but bone-chilling. No matter how sweet his words, or hot the sex, she couldn’t forget who or what Joey La Torre was: a made man in the mafia. A killer. The kind of guy who winds up in jail or dead--just like her father.
Sophie seemed nervous as they drove to Al’s for the barbecue. He remembered the way she’d bristled when he’d invited her and wondered if it was painful for her to be around her father’s compares . He put a hand on her knee and squeezed but she only stiffened. Parking the car, he led her through the side gate into the backyard where the men were all standing around the grill and the children were playing a game of touch football on the lawn.
He greeted them and introduced Sophie. “You all remember Sophie Palazzo? Artie’s daughter?”
“Yeah, of course,” they all said.
“Hi, Pauly,” she offered, with an awkward little wave. He wondered if Pauly was the only one she remembered. “This is Alex, Sammy, and my brother, Don Alberto.”
Al stuck out his hand and she shook it, not quite meeting his eye. “It’s good to see you, Sophie. It’s been a long time--too long.”
There was criticism in Al’s remark, and Sophie didn’t miss it. She gave a little shrug. “Well, it hasn’t been high on my list, but Joey didn’t give me much of a choice this time.”
He stiffened with the rest of the men. What the fuck? He took Sophie by the elbow, in a hurry to lead her away before any more damage was done. Al had raised his eyebrows and he wanted her out of there before his brother spoke.
He tugged her along until they reached the side of the house, where he bent his head and hissed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She lifted her chin. “What?”
“Don’t give me that. You were deliberately rude, not just to my compares , but to the boss.”
Her lip curled. “The boss?” she sneered. “The boss is your brother.”
He gave her a little shake. “That’s even worse!”
When she continued to look stubborn, he released her, fearing in his frustration he might squeeze her arms too hard or frighten her. He put his hands on his hips and blew his breath out, looking back toward the direction of the men. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said. “Keep your mouth shut if you can’t say something nice, capisce ?” She started to stalk off and he caught her arm, pulling her back. “ Capisce ?” he demanded.
A muscle in her jaw jumped. “ Capito ,” she spit out, pulling free of his hold. “I understand you perfectly.” The bitterness in her voice cut him like glass.
She stalked into the house like she owned the place, so he left her on her own. She would know enough women inside to make herself comfortable, if she could manage to be polite. He walked back to the grill, gritting his teeth at the prospect of facing the men after that less than ideal introduction to his new girlfriend.
Al ignored him when he came up, so the others took his cue and looked into their drinks, or off into the distance.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said.
Al gave him an appraising look. “Real nice, Joey. So, I guess she is a bitch like her mother.” He looked at Sammy as if the two of them had been discussing her.
His teeth snapped together, the muscles of his jaw straining so hard one side started twitching. Al’s eyes traveled from the fists clenched at his side to his face. “That wouldn’t go well for you,” he said, flicking his eyes back to the fists with his customary superiority that made Joey want to throttle him. With great effort, he unclenched his fingers.
“She was bitchy,” he said, satisfied that he kept his tone even. “But she’s not a bitch.”
“If you say so,” Al said, flipping a burger.
“Sophie Palazzo!”
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