Believe (9 page)

“I’m so glad you’re here. I never knew my grandmothers. Gina’s lucky to have you.” Lita’d only known her Grandpa Lawson—her mother’s father—and he’d died when Lita was seven.

“I’m here for you, too.” Celeste patted her hand.

Lita tried to smile. “Lorenzo and I are getting married here. Lorenzo’s arranging it now. It’s all happening so fast.” Lita circled her finger on a whorl in the wooden tabletop.

“When I married my Frank, I was young and inexperienced. I loved him very much, but I was so afraid. On our wedding night, I hid in the bathroom until Frank cajoled me out.” She smiled.

Lita exhaled and smiled back. “I love Lorenzo, more than anyone else.” Lita gripped the table edge. “But I’ve had bad experiences…it’s hard to trust.” Harder to trust her own judgment, when it came to men.

“Yet you are open to others, to love. I believe you and Lorenzo will find happiness together. I’ve known him all his life, knew his mother. She would have loved you.” She squeezed Lita’s hand.

“Uncle Enzo told me she used to talk about me sometimes. I met her once, at Lorenzo and Lee’s college graduation.”

“She was a sweet woman, who saw goodness in others.”

“I want to do that too…” Sometimes, though, what she wanted to see had made her overlook what was really there. But not with Lorenzo…she hoped.

“Seeing goodness is a miracle, one of those little things that helps us move through life’s tragedies and darkness.”

“This is quite a discussion,” Uncle Enzo said as he and Lorenzo walked in.

Celeste beamed a smile.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Uncle Enzo said, sitting on the other side of Celeste.

Lita hopped up to get the salads out of the refrigerator. Lorenzo moved to her side, helping her put everything on the table for lunch.

“We’re all set. Judge Polito will marry us here on Saturday.” He placed his hand on the small of her back as she set the bread basket out. She straightened, forcing herself to breathe and stay focused on lunch, not on the barrage of fearful thoughts that swirled up, like so much litter on a windy day. She’d imagined a long engagement, plenty of time to learn about Lorenzo, and ways to please him, and herself.

“Great,” she said. “I better find a dress.”

“Gina and Paolo said they’d help with anything you need.”

Lita nodded and they sat at the table. She served herself and ate, not really tasting anything. Grandpa Lawson’s old saying looped through her mind: “Slowly but slowly—faster means disaster.”

Chapter Nine

Lita gripped the pink cake box. Lorenzo stood next to her. Grandpop rang the doorbell outside the iron-gated house in the Richmond District. It reminded her of the house of one of her high school friends, where Lita had spent time before she’d transferred to boarding school. Her friend’s family was traditional, Italian, eating big Sunday dinners, laughing and teasing each other, treating Lita like one of the family. When Lita used to go back to Jane’s from an overnight at her friend’s, she’d shut herself in her room and write everything down, so she could remember the kind of family she wanted to build. Even then, Lorenzo had been part of her dreams.

The burly man who’d been at Lorenzo’s apartment the other day opened the door. He nodded to them. Lita noticed a gun holster pressed against the man’s ample side. She edged closer to Lorenzo.

“Grandpop.” Lorenzo stopped. “Lita should wait in the car.”

“No. Uri expects to meet her.” Grandpop walked down the hall.

Lita swallowed and nibbled on the inside of her lip for a moment. Nothing stopped the roiling feeling in her stomach, like she got on a turbulent airplane ride. Lorenzo placed his hand on her lower back. Her stomach settled. They followed Grandpop into a study, where a man about Uncle Enzo’s age sat in a chair behind a desk. He rose when he saw Lita. His belly rubbed against the desk and wobbled as he stood. It would have been comical, except the almost predatory, greedy look in his eyes, as well as the gun collection displayed behind his desk, sucked her smile before it could appear, like an old-style Dracula drained the blood from his victims.

“Velcome.” He smiled, eyeing the cake box.

Grandpop made introductions. Lita pressed herself into Lorenzo’s side. Even the man’s accent was vampirish.

Grandpop slid the box from Lita’s hands and handed it to Volkov. Volkov placed it on the desk, opened it, and clapped his pudgy hands together. The noise cracked like a gun shot. Lita gripped Lorenzo’s hand. Lorenzo stood still, like a soldier at attention.

As Volkov pulled the cake from the box, he murmured about the delicacy of the icing, the lightness of the cake.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Lorenzo’s whisper shimmered into her ear, an early-morning warm summer breeze.

But that Lorenzo thought this man might hurt her…She bit her lip.

“Did you look over the papers?” Grandpop eased into a chair opposite Volkov’s desk.

“Yes.” Volkov plopped back into his seat and swiveled to the wall behind him. He pressed a buzzer and said something in Russian. He turned to them again. “If we sign, then seal with cake.”

Lita leaned into Lorenzo. She exhaled. Her breath was shaky. Volkov banged his fist on the desk. Lita sucked in her breath. Her legs tensed, a cat ready to pounce—or run. Lorenzo slid his arm across her waist, pulling her close.

“I say no to the addendums.” Volkov leaned back. “Shows lack of trust.”

“The addendums are non-negotiable.” Grandpop stood. “You are the beneficiary in this deal. Lorenzo needs insurance. That is little to ask.”

Lita opened her mouth. Her throat felt dry, as if the temperature had become too hot to bear. “May I have a glass of water, please?”

Volkov’s stare snapped to her. “Of course, young lady. Lorenzo.” Volkov waved a hand toward a side table.

Lorenzo released her and walked to the table, pouring her water from a pitcher.

“Please, sit.” Volkov motioned to the chair next to Grandpop’s.

Lita glanced at Lorenzo, who nodded. He handed her the glass. Lita thanked Lorenzo and Volkov and sat. Lorenzo stood behind her.

Volkov studied her for a moment. “Engaged?” Lita nodded. “You must be an unusual woman, to have tamed Lorenzo Calabra.”

She didn’t bother to comment on his last statement. Lorenzo wasn’t a wild animal to be tamed, but the implications of Volkov’s words disturbed her almost as much as the man himself.

Volkov made a noise in his throat. He pushed an envelope forward. “Lorenzo, I agree to the terms…with the added caveat that you will answer to me if you hurt this beautiful girl.”

Grandpop laughed. “Now we do agree, Uri.”

Lita shifted in her seat. Lorenzo wouldn’t hurt her. Why did everyone she loved, and now strangers, think he would?

“That won’t be a problem.” Lorenzo stepped to the desk and signed the papers. He slid them to Volkov, who did the same.

A knock sounded. “
Vvodit
,’” Volkov said.

An older maid, shaped like a pear, her cheeks thick, entered the room. She set a tray of napkins, plates and silverware on the desk. She smiled at Grandpop and hurried out.

“Before we eat, let us finish.”

“We are finished,” Lorenzo said.

“Young lady,” Volkov stared at Lita. She swallowed. “You look. You be sure he is worthy of you.” He tried to hand her some photos.

She bent forward, looking at the top one. She pressed her hand to her mouth. It was some woman, naked, on all fours on a bed, Lorenzo behind her, pulling her hair, his hand raised as if to smack her. He was naked. Oh, God. She closed her eyes.

“Look,” Volkov said again, his voice still calm and anticipatory, like a father who wants to show his daughter her birthday gift.

She felt Lorenzo move behind her. Scuffling. She shook her head. It was photo-shopped. Yes, that must be it. But…She opened her eyes. The burly man held Lorenzo. Grandpop snatched the photos before Lita could see again. She breathed out.

“You had no right,” Grandpop said, his voice angry but calm.

“I did the same for my daughters, and granddaughters, when I had to. They thanked me, eventually. Young women these days, they must protect themselves. Knowledge is the way. That woman, she is the wife of Judge Dennis. There are hundreds of others. Your father kept close watch on you, Lorenzo.”

Lita glanced at Lorenzo. His features twisted with rage, his skin reddening. She turned to Grandpop. She focused on her breath. Grandpop stepped to her and took her arm.

“I’d like to go,” she said. Her voice surprised her in its calmness. “I hope you enjoy the cake, Mr. Volkov.”

Her limbs ached slightly. She wanted that image out of her mind. She wanted Lorenzo to hold her, tell her it wasn’t him, tell her something to ease the ache. She wanted to not know about this kind of life, one with a gloss of normalcy covering a rotted core.

“Thank you.” He rose. “Lorenzo, take your folder. I know about you, you see. I keep to myself, as long as you keep to yourself.” He motioned to the man who held Lorenzo.

The man let go. Lorenzo shrugged his shoulders and smoothed his shirt. He grabbed the folder.

Grandpop moved closer to Volkov. “My family is my business. I know about you, Uri. Our business is done.”

Volkov nodded and sat. He pulled the cake toward him.

They walked out, Lita beside Grandpop. Lorenzo’s footsteps sounded behind them. She blinked in the sunlight. Nico hopped from the car and held the car door for them. Lita sat and smoothed her skirt.

“Everything okay?” Nico asked. His reflective sunglasses mirrored Grandpop’s frown.

“Let’s go, eh?” Grandpop slid into the seat next to Lita.

Nico nodded, almost a salute—no surprise, since he’d been in the military—and shut the door after Lorenzo got in.

No one said anything as Nico drove back to North Beach. Lita closed her eyes most of the way. The bright sun was too bright. She wanted darkness, quiet…and a pint of chocolate ice cream. She let out a half-laugh, half-sob and covered her eyes with her hand.

Grandpop held her other hand. His hand was a little rough, but strong and steady. She could breathe. Just breathe.

“Lita—“ Lorenzo said.

“Lorenzo,” Grandpop interrupted. “Not now. We’ll go to my house so you two can talk in private.”

“I can’t,” Lita whispered. Now her voice held tears in it, quavering.

“You want to be married,” Grandpop said. “You have to talk. I’ll be near.”

Lita nodded. She pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of her skirt and dabbed at her eyes. Nico drove the car into the garage at Grandpop’s. They all walked into the house, Grandpop escorting her to a small study. She sat on a green sofa. Lorenzo stood next it, rigid.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, right across the hall,” Grandpop said.

“Thank you,” Lita said.

“No listening in,” Lorenzo said.

Lita frowned.

“I learned that lesson.” Grandpop shut the door on his way out.

Lita pushed out a breath. A clock on the mantel ticked out the minutes. The room had book-lined shelves and a desk across from the sofa in one corner, a fireplace in the other corner.

“I guess I should be glad he didn’t show me a picture of you over a dead body.” Lita frowned. She didn’t like herself much when she got sarcastic or bitchy. She liked being cheerful, silly even. Tears threatened again. She grabbed her handkerchief.

“I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“So that photo was real?”

“Yeah.”

She twisted her handkerchief. “She’s married? Why, Lorenzo? After the way your father cheated on your mom?” That was about all she knew of Lorenzo’s father, other than rumors of his corrupt ways.

“We were consenting adults. I never seduced anyone.”

“That makes it okay? Because women threw themselves at you?” She gripped her stomach, hugging herself.

“No. I told you, I’ve done a lot of things wrong. I can’t change any of that.”

She glanced at him. No, no one could change his past. And she’d accepted his, or so she’d thought. “Are you just going to stand there?”

He sat, no less tense, on the sofa next to her. He gripped his hands together as he leaned forward.

“I said I accepted your past.” Her voice was thick with the tears filling her throat. “But, is that how you like it? Rough like that?” She hadn’t gotten past kissing, not in reality. She had a full fantasy life, always about Lorenzo. Sometimes she’d fantasized about him taking control, but not like that. She couldn’t be like that. Her face heated.

“Sometimes.” He rubbed his fingers together. “I don’t expect…” He ran his hands through his hair. He edged closer. She tensed. He touched her arm. “I want you, Lita. I want to be with you. No expectations.”

“I want to wait, until our wedding night.” She had expectations: she expected it to be special, a dream come true. And he must have expectations. She leaned back.

“I understand.” He rubbed her arm.

She closed her eyes. “Hold me,” she whispered.

He pulled her close. She pressed her cheek into his chest. They were together. She was enough. She sighed. She hoped she was enough.

***

Lita smoothed her skirt before going downstairs to meet Lorenzo. They’d barely seen each other the last two days, since he’d dropped her at home after the meeting with Volkov, and their talk at Grandpop’s. Grandpop had wanted to meet with him again, and then Lee. She and Lorenzo had both been busy. With Gina, Paolo, and Celeste, Lita had been shopping, planning, finding a wedding dress—all it took to put together a wedding in less than a week. Lita’d never even been to a wedding, much less planned one. She fiddled with her small hoop earring.

“Hello?” Lita called. The house was quiet.

“In here,” Lorenzo said, she thought from the living room.

Lita smiled and walked to the doorway. She stopped. Lorenzo stood in the center of the room, dressed in his usual sleek, dark loafers and slacks, cashmere V-neck sweater, his short hair as well-groomed as the rest of him. His intense gaze and his masculine scent captivated her. She gripped the molding around the doorway. A bright fire lit the room, the lights were dimmed. The creams and blues of the décor mellowed in the low light, warming the room along with the blaze in the marble and antique-molded fireplace. This beautiful house, this gorgeous, wonderful man—a feeling swelled in her, she was so overwhelmed, so blessed. She rubbed a hand over her throat, fighting the urge to laugh and cry, go down on her knees in thanks.

“Something wrong?” Lorenzo said, still gazing at her.