Respect

  “Yes, Oren Demetri, you are. That’s what Giovanni said.”

  “He was right. Why do you think I’m lucky?”

  “Besides my being grown, you’re lucky because I’m yours. And I’m lucky too. I was afraid that while I was in Italy, some woman would snatch you up. I may have even asked Vinny to check once or twice for me.”

  I shook my head. “Mio angelo, there has never been another woman.”

  On the nearly empty sidewalk, our lips met. Sensual and warm, her petite body melted against mine as her arms encircled my waist. We’d been dating for nearly a year; we’d made love. Each time was like our first but better with the knowledge that we were accumulating about one another.

  With everything in me, I wanted to make love to her again and consummate our engagement. I longed to see her skin, removing the dress with the neckline that had been teasing me all night. My hand splayed over the small of her back—between my jacket and her dress—as I pulled her waist toward me and her breasts against my chest. My heart rate once again raced as our kiss deepened, and I imagined her warmth beneath me as we joined as one. Behind my now-closed eyes, I recalled the heavenly way she boldly took me inside her, her body holding tight until the friction and desire overwhelmed us, and we both gave in to the inevitable pleasure.

  “Oren?”

  I took a deep breath and ignoring my growing erection, took one step backward. “If I take you home later than midnight, my luck may run out.”

  “He’s not...”

  I kissed her again as I opened the passenger door to my black sedan. Once we were both inside, she reached across the console and spread her fingers over my thigh. So close. Obviously, seeing my trousers, she knew what she did to me.

  “Then let me show you...”

  I sighed and leaned against the seat, considering how amazing her mouth would feel, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the shadows. The reflection of something. It was quick, yet I didn’t doubt it was there.

  I wasn’t a man prone to hallucinations.

  I lifted her hand as I turned the key and started the car. Kissing her fourth finger of her left hand, I said, “Tomorrow, mio angelo, you will be wearing my ring. Tomorrow...” My gaze met hers. “I’ll pick you up earlier than I did tonight, and there will be no long meeting in Carmine’s office. And then I’ll cook you dinner at my place—soon to be our place—and we will celebrate.”

  Her smile dimmed.

  “Oh, baby, you deserve more than giving me a blow job in the front seat.”

  I wouldn’t tell her what I saw—that whomever I saw was the true reason for our departure. I wouldn’t say that there could be a man watching us who may want to do us harm. Or maybe it was Carmine’s man, keeping her safe. I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

  Her safety was my concern. I accepted it wholeheartedly.

  There was no guarantee that she was the target. It could have been me.

  I didn’t always associate with the men and women in the glass buildings in the Financial District. My businesses knew no bounds. A nail salon that fronted for a gambling parlor had the potential to be more profitable than a Fortune 500 corporation. There was danger in my line of business. I had friends and enemies, but having Carmine’s niece beside me, kissing on a dark sidewalk, was stupid. I’d taken a risk, and I knew that the outcome could have been different. Risks were for amateurs. My game had just been moved to the professional league.

  Putting Angelina even in the vicinity of harm’s way was something that I’d never allow to happen again.

  Chapter 4

  I couldn’t have been more wrong about my not having to meet with Carmine again the following night. With Angelina’s ring in my pocket, I approached the Costello home and knocked on the front door.

  One didn’t simply approach their brownstone. There was always someone to ensure unwanted guests were escorted away. That evening, it was the same young man who’d joined us in Carmine’s office the day before. I supposed I should learn his name. However, when I offered mine, he simply nodded, silently confirming that he already knew my identity.

  As Angelina opened the door, I was reminded of why she held my heart. With her dark, flowing hair pulled back on the sides and lying long in the back, she wore a light-blue blouse hanging over a tight pair of leggings—or whatever it was the women wore—and I was hit with the mixture of her sweet perfume and an overwhelming desire to grant her the romantic gesture I’d neglected to give her. On the front stoop of her family’s home, in front of anyone who could see, I did what I hadn’t done the night before. I fell to one knee and pulled the small velvet box from the pocket of my jacket.

  Anthony from the jewelry store may have worked all night to fulfill my request. I didn’t know if that were true. I only knew that when I arrived at his store an hour before opening, he was there with Angelina’s ring in hand. After handing him the amount of cash it would take to buy a small house in the Midwest, I had the ring Angelina would wear for the rest of her life.

  “Oh, Oren,” she cried, her gaze falling with me to the step. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve already said yes.”

  When I opened the box, her hands flew up, her fingertips covering her pink lips. The gesture did little to stifle her scream as she bounced on her bare toes. “It’s more beautiful than I remember.”

  “Angel,” Mrs. Costello called as she rushed toward the door, wiping her hands on a dark apron hanging from her waist. Coming to a stop with her hands on her niece’s waist, she peered around Angelina’s shoulder. “Oh, Oren, it’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Costello.”

  I rose slowly as Angelina plucked the diamond ring from the box with trembling fingers.

  Mrs. Costello smiled approvingly my direction as I stepped inside her home. “Son, put it on her finger.”

  Damn. One knee. Place the ring on her finger.

  I never knew there were so many steps to an engagement. One day it’ll be my job to inform my sons of the things my father never told me.

  I supposed I should be happy that I got the asking permission and asking Angelina parts close to right. With a nod I did as Mrs. Costello directed, reaching for Angelina’s trembling hand and slipping the band over her knuckle into place.

  My fiancée’s eyes again filled with tears as her gaze went from the diamond upon her outspread finger to me, to her finger, and to her aunt.

  “Bambina, sbalorditivo! It’s lovelier than you described.”

  “I-I,” Angelina stuttered. “Even seeing it, having it right here, I can’t find words to describe it.”

  We all turned to the echoing footsteps. Carmine Costello’s expression bore toward me, his eyes set and unrevealing as he came forward. I expected a form of commendation—of the ring that cost the annual salary of the median income, of the fact that we were officially engaged, of congratulations to me or Angelina.

  Something.

  Looking down at his niece’s hand, he simply nodded.

  “Carmine?” Mrs. Costello questioned.

  He seemed not to notice his wife as his jaw set, and his dark eyes went back to me. “Oren. Come to my office. Now.”

  “Zio, not tonight,” Angelina pleaded. “We have plans.”

  I wanted to turn toward the blue eyes of the woman speaking. I’d been thinking about our plans all day. It had been difficult to work and conduct business as our plans made their way into my thoughts, even at the most mundane of times. Nevertheless, with the way Carmine Costello was looking at me and the tone of his voice, my daylong semi-erection shriveled.

  There was the possibility that I’d never get it back.

  Carmine leaned in, glancing at the ring, and kissed Angelina’s cheek. “It’s bellissimo. Go with your aunt. Oren will be done with me when I say he’s done.”

  I did my best to appear unaffected, yet that fear I’d told Carmine I’d have after Angelina became mine was coursing through my bloodstream and racing at immeasurable speeds. I nodded
toward Carmine. “Yes, sir.” And then I turned to Angelina. With a quick peck of her cheek, I reassured her, “Our plans will keep.”

  Carmine didn’t speak as we traveled the hallway back to his office. He remained silent as he closed the door, this time with only the two of us present. He continued not speaking as he moved to the other side of his desk and sat. He didn’t gesture for me to sit. He simply leaned forward, bringing his elbows to the top of the desk and became fascinated with his hands as the tips of his right fingers met the tips of his left. If he were praying, I was the one in need of salvation.

  I stood taller, awaiting his decision and my fate.

  Finally, he looked up. “Stefano, I told him not to disarm you. I told him that the first time you came to my home.”

  Stefano? I could assume the young man at the door.

  “Sir, I would not disgrace your house with a gun.”

  His hands slapped the top of his desk. “What about last night?”

  I shook my head once. “No. I didn’t carry a gun in here last night. I don’t have one on me now.”

  Slowly he stood, becoming omnipotent as he leaned his weight over the desk, his eyes never leaving me. “Last night.” His words came slower. “When you had my niece on a deserted street. Last night when you stood and kissed her. Last night when you were within Stefano’s sights.”

  My neck straightened as the small hairs on the back of my neck stood taller with each word. I knew I’d seen someone. “Yes, sir.”

  “Were you carrying then?”

  I nodded and turned, slowly lifting my jacket and revealing the empty holster attached to my belt, near the center of my back.

  “Sit down, Oren Demetri.”

  Taking a deep breath and exhaling, I did as I was told, planting my feet solidly before me, shoulder-width apart, my arms on the armrests and my back straight.

  “From now on,” he began a command I’d never forget, “you will disgrace my house and my niece any time you are not prepared. You will carry a weapon at every moment of every day. My home is safe, but so was my brother’s. Never go without. Never.” His demanding tone reverberated off the regal walls and bookcases. “I want to trust that you will take care of her.”

  I nodded as the knots within my gut twisted, creating ancillary knots. He was right. I knew last night that I’d been careless. I could tell him that I’d seen Stefano, though I didn’t know it was him. However, I didn’t think Carmine Costello was interested in my side of the story. He knew his side. No other opinion mattered. “You can trust her with me, sir. I would lay down my life—”

  “She doesn’t want you to lay down your life,” he interrupted. “She’s in love with you. She has been for years. Vincent told me after she moved to Florence for her studies. He said that she would ask about you. Before then, I’d never heard of you. I did my research. You’re an impressive man, Oren. You’ve made a name for yourself. Now she wants that name. My Angelina gets what she wants but not at the price of her life.”

  “I’d never—”

  His hand came up, silencing my reply.

  “When is the wedding?”

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief at the change in his tone and line of questioning. At least he wasn’t saying he rescinded his permission. “We haven’t talked dates.”

  “The women.” He nodded toward the door. “If I were a betting man, which I’ve been known to be—only on sure things—I would say they’re talking about it right now.”

  “I have no preference.”

  “Of course you don’t. It’s all up to her. Something else that is now beyond your choice...” His voice faded away as he sat back, his eyes still scanning me.

  “If I ever thought that you would be a detriment to her, I wouldn’t have given you my permission.”

  “I was careless. We were caught up in the emotion of the engagement.”

  “There is always emotion. Let the women have it. They love it. They live for it. They relish being happy and being sad. They can’t enjoy one without the other. But it’s your job to never let that emotion cloud your judgment. From now until the wedding, Vincent is going to spend time with you.”

  I searched for words, but they were hiding, such as I probably should have been.

  Carmine stood and walked toward me, stopping near my chair, his dark eyes peering down. “What do you have to say about that?”

  “I’ll be happy to get to know Vincent better.”

  “I’m not talking about walks in the park.”

  Swallowing the bile churning in my gut, I nodded. “I’m not without knowledge, but I know I have more to learn.”

  Carmine nodded as his hand landed on my shoulder. “We all have more to learn. Every day. For the rest of our lives. That’s what makes us smarter, stronger, and better prepared. Never lose that.” He stepped back and leaned against the massive desk. “I’m not Angelina’s father. She lost him too young. You, too, lost your father. I reminded myself of that last night when Stefano told me what he saw.

  “That research—that knowledge—is why we’re talking now and not last night after you brought her home.

  “You’ve done impressive things on your own. I’ll never replace my brother, and I’ll never replace your father...”

  “Salvatore,” I said.

  He nodded. “Good name. But with that ring on my niece’s hand, you’re now my nephew-to-be. We are family. When family has needs, family offers help. Right now, Vincent will help you and show you the ways of keeping my Angelina safe.

  “And you will show Vincent the holdings of Demetri Enterprises. Let him learn, as you do. I believe we can help one another. Do you agree?”

  My mind was going in too many directions to disagree. “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, what are these plans Angelina mentioned?”

  Plans...to strip your niece and lose myself inside her.

  I swallowed that response. “Dinner. I have steaks marinating and potatoes in the oven.”

  His smile grew, the rise of his cheeks eclipsing his dark eyes. “Eleven o’clock.”

  I didn’t speak.

  “She will argue,” he said.

  As she should. She was nearly thirty years old, as was I. Yet I understood that the earlier curfew was more about my recklessness last night than about Angelina. My carelessness lost us an hour. “I’ll have her home by eleven.”

  Carmine was right about the women. When we reached the kitchen where the delicious aroma of something wafted through the air and filled my senses, Angelina and her aunt were looking at a calendar and discussing dates. Mrs. Costello was taking notes, speaking fast, saying names I’d only heard in passing. She fluctuated between English and Italian as if it were one language. By her excitement, it appeared that speaking to the priest was our first priority.

  As I came nearer, Angelina’s aunt reached for my hand. Looking up from her seat at the kitchen table, her eyes widened as she said, “Oren, tell me the church will bless this marriage.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Costello, I’m Catholic, and I’ve never been married.” I looked to Angelina. “There’s never been another woman, ever, who’s held my heart.”

  “Rose...” she said squeezing my hand. “From now on, please call me Rose. We’re to be family. Now we’ll speak with Father Mario. Once we know the dates that the church is available...”

  “Rose,” Carmine said, “You and Angelina decide on a date. I’m sure the church will be available.”

  I looked to Angelina as she shook her head. The sight of her stole my breath away. There never had been another woman. I’d shared my body with others, but never my heart. It was tucked away until I saw her. From that day on, it’s been hers. “I’m open this Saturday,” I said with a grin.

  “Oh no!” Rose said. “Angelina will have a big wedding. The biggest. The reception will need planning. Food. We need a menu. And music. Carmine, call Francesco. He’ll provide the music. Oh, and his daughter. She plays the harp.”

  I stood dumbfounded, wonderin
g if there was anyone else on the planet who told Carmine who to call.

  “This takes time,” she said, her fingers feverishly scribbling as she continued speaking.

  With a grin, I offered Angelina my hand. “Mio angelo, do you want to keep working on the wedding, or can I convince you to join me for dinner?”

  She placed her hand in mine, her new diamond glittering as I closed my fingers around hers. We fit together perfectly. “Mr. Demetri, I’m glad you asked. As it turns out, I’m simply famished.”

  “As am I.”

  “We have plenty,” Rose said, listening to our words as she continued her mental planning. “You may eat with us. Right, Carmine?”

  We all turned his way.

  “I think I heard something about steaks marinating. No one wants a drowned steak.”

  “I’ll be home by midnight,” Angelina said.

  Carmine’s eyes met mine. “Or sooner.”

  I simply nodded.

  “Take care of our girl.”

  “She’s also mine, and I will.” It was a bold statement, but at some point, I needed to stand up for what was mine. I’d been chastised for being careless when I knew better. Instead of making me less, I decided to be thankful it was Stefano and not someone more nefarious in those shadows. That was done. It was time to move on.

  This time, Carmine nodded.

  Once Angelina and I were outside and walking down the steps and sidewalk toward the tree-lined street, Angelina asked, “What did he want to talk to you about?”

  “You.”

  As I opened the passenger door I noticed Stefano standing in the shade of a large maple. Acknowledging his presence, I nodded his direction. The spring weather was unpredictable. Where last night it had been cool, today the temperature had risen. I stilled a moment with my hand on the door handle of the driver’s side. I was in this relationship now with both feet.

  I’d take Carmine’s advice and learn from Vincent. Keeping my feet on the street and out of a grave was second only to doing the same for the woman in my car. Once seated inside, I reached for the glove compartment, opened it, and removed my gun. Sliding the revolver into the holster at my back, I adjusted my coat and winked. “Are you really famished?”