Italian Stallions (26 page)

She pulled away from Vince and steeled herself against his hard, questioning stare. “Vince, can you excuse us for a moment?”

“Not until you tell me who he is,” he said, not backing down an inch. Vince was bristling like a wolf at Mark’s fake smile. She could practically smell the testosterone coming off Vince’s big body, and kept herself carefully positioned between the two men.

“Mark is my ex-boyfriend,” she said matter-of-factly. Vince already suspected she was keeping things from him, and she knew better than to try to to pass off Mark as no big deal.

“Tressie and I have a little unfinished business to discuss,” Mark said, and Theresa winced at his use of her nickname.

Vince noticed too, if the way his big hands clenched into fists was any indication. “What kind of business?”

“Personal business,” Theresa said pointedly, knowing she was on the verge of pile driving what she and Vince into the ground. “I need to talk to Mark alone for a moment.”

“I don’t like this,” Vince said. “Whatever you have to discuss, you say in front of me.”

“Just give me five minutes,” Theresa pleaded, wondering how she could stand when her heart was squeezing so hard she could barely breathe. “Please, I need to talk to him. Alone.” she finished pointedly.

He threw his hands up in frustrated defeat. “You know what? Take all the time you need.” He turned and started walking up the block, his long strides eating up the pavement as his shoulders rippled under his shirt. Theresa wanted to call out, to beg for him to go, but Mark’s voice stopped her.

“You’re really afraid of what he’ll think, aren’t you?” How had she never noticed that oily undertone in Mark’s voice? “That’s good, because I’m going to need a little more to tide me over—”

She whirled around and shoved him in the chest, sending him stumbling back several steps. “Why are you doing this to me? I gave you everything. Everything! You have all my money, everything of value. I have nothing left to give you.”

Mark grabbed her wrist in an iron grip, grinding the bones together. She gasped as white hot pain shot up her arm, but he kept the pressure on, right in the same place the bastard had broken the wrist a little over a year ago. He knew it, too. His cold blue eyes bored into hers as she stumbled helplessly after him. He dragged her down the block and around the corner, out of sight of the restaurant and her relatives.

“Don’t fuck with me, Theresa,” he said, shoving her up against a building’s brick facade. “I need another two grand. You figure out how to get it to me in forty-eight hours, or else daddy dearest gets a lovely photo album to remember you by. And as a bonus, I’ll make a copy for the big stud too.”

“I can’t—” she said, hating how weak her voice sounded.

“Forty-eight hours,” Mark snarled. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it,” he said, giving her a head to toe scan that made her skin crawl.

Vince halted his angry pacing when he heard Theresa come through the front gate. She was only a few minutes behind him. That gave him some small measure of comfort. At least she hadn’t disappeared with the little weasel and spent the afternoon fucking her ex-boyfriend as his fevered brain had envisioned. He’d left the Thanksgiving get-together shortly after he’d returned to Ciao Bella, gone home and tried to rip the sickening vision from his mind, simultaneously wanting to vomit or put his fist through a wall. He’d managed to quell both impulses, but just barely.

Chester, who had been pacing beside him and nudging his hand affectionately, trotted to the door to greet Theresa with an exuberant bark. Whoever said dogs were capable of reading human moods had obviously never met Chester, who was whipping his tail against Theresa’s legs, spinning in happy doggy circles, completely oblivious to the tension emanating from them both.

“Down, Chester,” she murmured, looking vaguely surprised when the dog actually obeyed. “Guess those classes are finally paying off,” she said, a little too shrill.

“Are you fucking that guy?” he said bluntly, not about to let her brush him off.

“No!” she said with enough shock and conviction to convince him she wasn’t lying. She hoped.

“Then what’s going on?” He walked over to her, deliberately using his size to intimidate her as he backed her against the wall of the entryway.

“We had some things we needed to clear up.”

“What kind of things?”

“He needed money, and I couldn’t say no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” she said, her eyes sliding away from Vince’s to focus on the buttons of his shirt.

“I’m smart,” he said. “Explain it to me.”

“I can’t.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you still in love with him?” He held his breath for her answer. Hating her for putting him through this, hating himself for caring so much, for loving her when she was still hung up on her ex.

She sighed heavily. “No, I’m not in love with Mark any more.”

He wanted to believe her, so much his heart was exploding with it. “Then promise me you won’t see him or talk to him ever again.”

She shook her head. “I can’t promise that. You have to trust me—”

“Trust you?” he shouted, the words exploding out of him. “Give me one goddamn reason I should trust you! You barely tell me anything about yourself, you see your ex-boyfriend behind my back and you’re apparently lending him money.” His head snapped back as though from a blow as everything fell into place. “You gave him the necklace, didn’t you? That’s what happened to it?” Tears welled up in her eyes and her lips compressed and he knew he’d hit a bulls-eye. A rough laugh ripped its way up his throat.

It shouldn’t matter. It was a stupid necklace. It had cost the equivalent of pocket change to him. But he’d bought it for her because he thought she was beautiful and wonderful and he wanted to see his gift hanging around her neck.

And she’d given it to that weasel like it meant nothing.

He laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the vaulted ceiling of his foyer as though it had the answer to how Vince Mattera, master of evading emotional entanglements, had managed to get his heart chewed up by a girl-woman he’d hired to babysit his dog.

“You should have told your boyfriend to keep a lower profile,” he bit out. “Who knows how much you would have been able to siphon off to him.”

“Vince, please—”

His heart cracked along with her voice, bleeding out inside his chest cavity. “Look, Theresa, I don’t know what you have going on with Mark, but I’m too old and too busy to play fucked-up little games with a girl who doesn’t know what she wants. So it’s him or me. Decide what you want.” He couldn’t let her go completely, not yet. Not without giving her one last chance.

“I wish it were that simple,” Theresa said.

Vince felt the words like a blow. His heart wasn’t breaking, it was imploding, collapsing on itself inside his ribcage. He wanted to fight, wanted to rage. But he wasn’t about to sit around waiting for Theresa to figure out whether she wanted to be with him.

This had to end quick.

“You need to move out,” he said, his voice so calm and cool it seemed like it was coming from a different person. “Take a couple of days to find some place to go, but I want you out by the end of the week.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything, just leaned against the wall with her arms wrapped around her waist like she was wounded.

He wanted her to argue, to beg him to give her another chance. The fact that she so easily accepted it pissed him off even more. “I’d offer you money to get set up,” he said, unable to resist the cruel jab, “but I don’t want you paying your pimp with any more of my cash.”

Her body jerked as though she’d been shot and her face blanched. “I guess I deserve that,” she said softly.

This was killing him. It was like all of the fight had gone out of her and she was bracing herself for another blow. But he steeled himself against the urge to take her in his arms, hold her close.

She pushed herself away from the wall, but instead of walking to the door she walked to where he was standing, stopping a few inches from him. Her dark eyes were weary, full of grief, anger, and helplessness. “I’m sorry, Vince. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”

Theresa’s heels echoed off the foyer floor as she walked out. The click of the door shutting rang like a gunshot. Vince walked over to the stairs and sank down on the second step, feeling at least double his thirty-five years.

Chester managed to pull himself away from the delight of licking where his balls used to be long enough to finally notice his master’s mood. His nails clicked on the floor as he ambled over. He pawed at Vince’s leg twice, then laid his heavy furry head across Vince’s knee. Vince absently stroked Chester’s ears as the dog’s eyebrows lifted in a look of canine concern.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, dog,” Vince said. “Alone again.”

And for the first time in his adult life, being alone really sucked.

T
he next night, Theresa had barely gotten through the door of Ciao Bella before Gia enveloped her in a hug. “Tressie, why didn’t you call me back? I was so worried after what happened.” Theresa fought back tears at her cousin’s concern. Frankly, her tears surprised her, since she was pretty sure she’d bawled out all the liquid in her body over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

“I’m okay, Gia,” she said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“One look at you and I know that’s not true. You shouldn’t let your father upset you so much. Now I know he’s your father, and my uncle, but I swear sometimes that man makes me want to take a rolling pin to his head like Zia Catherine used to do with Zio Vito. Do you remember?”

Theresa managed a weak chuckle at the memory. “You don’t have to bash any heads on my account. I’m just sorry I ruined your dinner.”

“Please,” Gia said, waving her off. “It’s not a Cipriani-Bellessi holiday if we don’t have a good brawl. But it makes me sad to see how much he hurt you. A father should never speak to his daughter like that.”

Theresa nodded, not having the heart to tell her that her father’s rage wasn’t the worst of it. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “But I have a favor to ask you. Two, actually.”

Gia nodded absently and motioned for Theresa to follow her back into the kitchen. The rich, spicy smells of sauces simmering and meats roasting did little to settle Theresa’s stomach. “Can I borrow your car this week?”

“Of course,” Gia said, and asked the chef a question about one of the specials. She turned back to Theresa. “When do you need it?”

“Either tomorrow or Tuesday, depending on when I get packed.”

She’d made very little progress today, spending most of her day the same way she had spent the long, sleepless night—in a semi-conscious fog on her couch in front of the TV.

Gia waved off a question from the sous-chef and focused all of her attention on Theresa. “What do you mean pack? Why are you packing?”

“That’s the other favor,” Theresa said. “I was wondering if I could stay with you for a little while, until I find a new place to live.”

Gia’s eyes widened with concern. She grabbed Theresa’s hand and dragged her back to Gia’s small office by the kitchen. She closed the door to insure privacy. “You and Vince are splitting up? What happened?”

“It didn’t work out,” she said. “It was never serious anyway, Gia. No big deal.”

“No big deal. No big deal.” Gia threw her hands up dramatically. “Your father disowning you, getting your heart broken. How can none of that be a big deal?”

“Please,” Theresa said, feeling tired and weary and about a thousand years old. “I don’t want to get into it right now. I just need a place to crash for a few days. I know you don’t need me hanging around with you and Gabe, and I promise I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

Gia laid a small hand on Theresa’s cheek and regarded her with dark, compassionate eyes. The big sister Theresa never had was coming through for her again. “Stay as long as you like. As for Gabe,”—she couldn’t suppress a sly smile—“we can stay at his place. His bed is bigger anyway.”

Theresa gave a nod, genuinely thrilled her cousin had found love at last, even if it did throw Theresa’s bleak situation into stark contrast.

She worked that night in a sleep-deprived haze, always keeping one eye trained on the door, hoping against hope to see a tall, broad, familiar figure fill the doorway. But of course Vince wouldn’t come here, not tonight. Probably not ever again. Great. As if she didn’t have enough to feel bad about, she’d cost her cousin one of Ciao Bella’s best customers.

She wondered what he was doing right now. He’d left early this morning. She’d roused herself from her vigil on the cottage couch to stagger to the window in time to see his retreating back. She wondered if he’d slept. She wondered if he felt bad about the pimp comment.

It still sliced at her like a straight razor. But as she’d said to him, she probably deserved that. Vince probably thought she was planning to milk him for what she could get and give it all to Mark.

Vince still wasn’t home when she got back. There was a note on Theresa’s door from the housekeeper asking Theresa to let the dog out. She collected Chester and let him do his thing. Instead of putting him back in Vince’s house when he was done, she took the dog to her cottage, desperately needing the company. Even if said company shed tufts of blond fur all over her furniture and filled the small house with eau de dog breath.

“You need a Tic Tac,” she said as Chester yawned, his breath wafting over to assault her nose. Chester climbed up on the couch and laid his head in her lap, settling in to join her for another sleepless night of mindless TV. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, realizing it was true. She’d never been much of a dog person, or an any-pet person for that matter. But she would miss the dance of doggie delight Chester performed every time she reached for his leash. She’d miss how sometimes, when he was chasing a ball, he’d get his legs tangled up and tumble over in a full somersault. She’d miss the little grunts of pleasure he gave when she scratched his chest like she was doing now.

But most of all, she was going to miss taking Chester for walks with Vince at her side, holding her hand or with his arm slung over her shoulders.

Vince…She began to cry, then sucked it up. The only thing to do was to get on with it, keep pushing forward until the day came when she woke up and it didn’t hurt quite so much any more.

Theresa hit the silence button on her cell phone as it rang for the tenth time that morning. She didn’t even need to look at the display to know it was Mark, calling to say her forty-eight hours were up, and that he wanted the two thousand dollars she was supposed to magically pull out of nowhere.

She shoved her phone back into the pocket of her jeans, regretting her decision to give Mark her new number in the first place. But if she hadn’t, he would have called the restaurant, or worse, shown up there to harass her in person. Theresa supposed she should be thankful that Mark hadn’t cost her her job. Yet.

She hefted an over-stuffed duffel bag full of clothes into the trunk of Gia’s car. On her way back to the cottage, she made sure the gate was propped open so she wouldn’t have to keep opening and shutting it as she shuttled her belongings from the cottage to the car. She’d been up since six a.m, packing. Technically, she’d been up since three a.m., but it wasn’t until six that she’d finally given up the battle for sleep and heaved her weary body out of bed. The temptation to pull the covers over her head and spend the day pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist was almost irresistible. After all, today was her day off. She didn’t actually have to be anywhere until work on Tuesday, so she had over twenty-four hours to mope around and feel sorry for herself.

And Vince had given her until the end of the week to move, so there was no rush.

She’d resisted the voices that wanted to throw her a pity party to end all pity parties and thrown herself into packing. Otherwise she knew she’d torture herself, gazing out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Vince. Like that would do anything to begin to fill up the massive crater where her heart used to be.

Strange that she could feel so much pain after such a short time. Was it really only a little over a month ago that she’d moved in here? She rubbed her eyes, scratchy from dried tears and lack of sleep. It felt like a lifetime ago. She’d found the man of her dreams and lost him in a big fat hurry.

Chester paced nervously around the boxes piled next to the door. He sniffed each one and whined softly, as though he knew something was up. Theresa paused in the act of picking up a box and knelt down next to the dog to give him a reassuring chest scratch. “It’s all going to be okay, boy.” Her nose burned with the effort to hold back yet another round of tears. “Pretty soon you won’t even remember me.” Her gaze involuntarily went out the window of the kitchenette, up to the window of Vince’s office. Would he, she wondered, forget her just as easily?

She shook off the depressing thought and stood. As she reached for a box of books, Chester let out a sharp bark and whacked her in the leg with an enthusiastic wag of his tail. Her heart gave a lurch and her stomach flipped as she whirled around, unable to squash the irrational hope that Vince was here to beg her not to leave.

Her tentative smile vanished as she saw Mark in the doorway. Clammy sweat dampened the thin fabric of her T-shirt as she took in his cold, red-rimmed eyes and equally rosy nostrils. Great. As if he weren’t already a dream to deal with, now he was coked out of his mind.

She cursed herself for leaving the front gate wide open, but stupidly, naively, she hadn’t really expected Mark to show up here.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls, Theresa,” he said with a sniff. “I hope that’s because you have my money for me.”

“Afraid not,” she said, eying the door, trying to decide if she could run fast enough to get past Mark and up to the main house.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear,” he said, taking a step toward her, kicking boxes out of the way. “I told you two days.”

She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“I’m sure you can get a little cash from your boyfriend if you ask nicely.”

She gestured at the boxes and suitcase crowding the small cottage. “Thanks to you, he’s not my boyfriend anymore, so really, I’m out of resources.” Not that she would give Mark so much as a penny from Vince’s sofa cushions.

He rushed forward, grabbing her by the hair with such force she felt her knees start to buckle. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation, Theresa. I need the money, and I need it now. Otherwise, the bad guys are going to do very bad things to me.”

“Why should I care?” Theresa asked, blinking back tears of pain. She knew it was stupid to taunt him. She knew perfectly well what he was capable of in this state, but she refused to cower or give into his bullying again. She jerked her head to the side and felt a hank of hair at her nape get yanked.

“Don’t push me, Theresa,” he said, leaning so close she could feel the nasty heat of his ragged breath, “you know what will happen if you keep pushing me.”

She kicked his shin, wincing as his hand fisted more firmly in her hair. “I don’t give a shit. Show my father the pictures. Show Vince. Show the whole freakin’ world for all I care.”

It didn’t matter anymore. Her father was never going to forgive her, and she’d already lost Vince. Terrified, she’d given into Mark’s demands, and she’d lost everything anyway. What more did she have to lose?

Mark yanked her hard against him, never losing his grip on her hair as something cold and sharp kissed the tender skin of her throat. Her stomach bottomed out and her fingertips went numb as she froze, struggling to not swallow, to not so much as breathe against the icy cold pressure of the blade.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” he said, and Theresa could feel the faint tremors rippling through his body as the cocaine surged through his blood. “We’re going to walk over to the main house. You’re going to let me in. Then you’re going to help me pack up your car with any items that I can hock or sell. Got it?”

“I’m not going to help you rob him,” Theresa said, and immediately regretted it when she felt a keen slice and the warm trickle of blood down her neck. “Stop!” she said, trying to still her panic. “His house is protected with a really sophisticated security system. You’ll never get past it without having me enter the security code.” That might save her life, but it wouldn’t buy her time. “We should wait until the housekeeper goes home.” She looked at the clock, wondering frantically if Magda was still in the house. The last thing she wanted was to put anyone else in danger.

“I don’t have time to wait. Let me handle her, you worry about getting me into the house.”

Vince walked up the block to his house, brooding like a man possessed. He hadn’t really intended to come home, hadn’t intended to leave his office where he’d been hiding out pretty much twenty-four-seven for the last two days. But after the weekly partner meeting that had ended shortly before lunch, he’d called Magda, ostensibly to put in a request for her daily trip to the grocery store. Then, though he’d been trying to ignore her existence, he’d asked about Theresa.

Only to feel like he’d been punched when Magda informed him that Theresa had pulled a car into the driveway and was now loading it with suitcases and boxes.

She was really leaving. Even though he’d been the one to tell her to go, the actuality of it had him walking ten blocks home almost in a daze until he was standing in his own driveway, staring blankly at Theresa’s cousin’s car parked in his driveway, wondering why he had come.

To stop her?

To tell her not to let the door hit her on the ass on her way out?

He still wasn’t sure as he walked through the gate she’d left propped open and started toward the door of the cottage, also left slightly ajar.

He froze when he heard a muffled male voice coming from inside.

Jesus, he thought as his blood pressure skyrocketed to a roiling boil, that took some fucking nerve on her part, to have Mark over here. He was about to walk away in disgust when he heard Theresa’s muffled cry of pain, followed by Chester’s frantic barking.

“Shut that fucking dog up!”

“Don’t hurt him,” Theresa cried. “Chester, shh! Be quiet!”

Vince was about to burst through the door but caught himself just in time. He had no idea what was going on in there. He flattened himself against the front of the small house and inched his way to the open door, carefully keeping himself out of sight as he peered inside the main room of the cottage.

Icy fear tripped up his spine at the sight that greeted him. He could see Theresa in profile, her face pale and strained as Mark held her tight, her back to his front. His left hand was fisted in her hair, forcing her head back as his right hand pressed a wicked-looking blade to her neck. A scarlet trail ran down her throat and stained the neckline of her thin cotton T-shirt.

Chester huddled in the corner by the kitchenette, looking as though he’d been kicked couple of times.