Read Online Sal Gabrini: His House of Cards by Mallory Monroe - Free Book Online

lawyer ?” he asked.
    “Not as your
lawyer, no,” Gemma responded.   “As your
wife.”
    “No,” Sal said,
shaking his head.   “No way, Gem.   I’m not putting you through that.   I don’t like the idea of my wife speaking for
me.   What’s wrong with my mouth?   I can speak for myself.”
    But Gemma
was thinking a different way.   “We need
the optics, Sal,” she said.   “I hate to
say it, but we do. This isn’t about the press or what they think about your
manhood.   This is about the company.   I need to reassure investors that, as a black
woman, I have total confidence in you, since the allegations are along those
lines.   And I need to be clear.   It could be a bloodbath on Wall Street if I
don’t be clear.   Our stock could be in
freefall and never recover.”
    But Sal was
still against it.   “I don’t want you in
the hot seat,” he said.   “I don’t even
want them to bring up your name in this mess.   I need to take care of this myself.   I have to find a way to handle this myself.   It’s not true, they’re lying, that’s what I
have to tell the public.”
    “You’re the
accused, Sal,” Gemma explained.   “They
expect you to deny it.   Your denials
aren’t going to reassure anybody.”
    “But you can
reassure them?”
    “Yes,” Gemma
said firmly.   “People know me here in
Vegas.   They know my reputation.   They know I’m not going to stand by some
hateful racist, they know I’ll never do that.   I’m the only one who can reassure them that you’re not the man those
accusers are making you out to be.”   Then
Gemma played hardball.   “I have to do it,
Sal. You may not like it, but I have to go on record defending your character
as vigorously as I possibly can.   We have
no choice.”
    Sal still
didn’t like it, but he was nobody’s fool.   Gemma was right.   It wasn’t just
about him anymore, but about the business.   A business, at least half of it, that she was going to inherit when his
ass was dead and gone.   He exhaled.   And warned her.   “Okay,” he said.   “But if you play softball, if you try to give
any credence whatsoever to those allegations, those press guys will eat you
alive.”
    Gemma almost
smiled.   “I can handle myself,” she
said.   “Trust me on that.”

 
    And she
did.   At first.   She and Sal stood at the podium in the press
room on the fourth floor of the Gabrini Corporation, and she handled it just
fine.   The goal was to be extremely
brief, so that the headline couldn’t be misconstrued.
    “My husband
is not a racist,” she said.   She hated to
even have to say it, but she also knew that sometimes the obvious had to be
said.   “Anyone who alleges he made racist
remarks or allowed racist behavior to permeate his workforce is a liar.   He does not run a racist corporation.   He is not a racist man.   We deny each and every allegation against
him, and we deny it in no uncertain terms.   We will fight these charges in a court of law and we will fight them
stringently.   There will be no
settlement.   No one will defame the
Gabrini name and expect to be paid off.    That is not going to happen.   Thank you.”
    But if Gemma
thought she would give a statement and they could turn and leave, she was
mistaken.   The press pounced.
    “How many
minorities are in senior management positions in this building, Mr. Gabrini?”
    “Don’t
answer that,” Gemma whispered to her husband as she took him by the arm.
    “How many?”
another reporter yelled.   “That question
goes to the heart of their allegations, Mr. Gabrini.   Why can’t you answer us?”
    “Are you
going to let your wife lead you by the nose?” said a third reporter.   “I thought the Gabrinis were supposed to be
tough.”
    Gemma knew
Sal wasn’t going to let that comment stand.   And he didn’t.   He broke away from
her grasp and went back to the podium.   She followed him.
    “Trying to
question another man’s