Chapter 8
Allie
Dry cleaning and veterinary services were enemies. That’s why I never abused my wallet on anything as exquisite as cashmere or silk. I stared at the rack of clothing and the detritus of my empty tote bag and fumed at the way everyone bulldozed over my wishes with calculated acquiescence.
My comfortable yoga pants were confiscated. The soft T-shirt I wore, gone. And like those things, my phone was no where to be found. I’d had it on the plane and put it in my bag. I surely had it last night. I fisted the charger in my hand and cursed my luck.
Mario entered. His face was paler, and his hair was windblown.
“Were you on the roof?” With a multi-million dollar bounty on his head. Was he nuts?
His head tipped as if to acknowledge my question. “The terrace.”
He slowly curled into a soft chair. His body took time to settle, bracing against pain. I went to the pile on the bed and retrieved my bottle of acetaminophen. I spilled three tablets into my hand and passed them to him and then filled a glass with water.
He’d already popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed but accepted the water graciously. “Thank you.”
“How bad is it?”
Mario shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
I hoped that was a lie but it sounded too much like the truth. Because his flippancy irritated me so, I mumbled sarcastically, “’Tis but a scratch.”
His eyes darted to mine. A glint of amusement shown in them. Then it dimmed. “I have something of yours.” He leaned so he wouldn’t tweak his wound as he dug in his suit pocket. He handed my phone over without explanation.
I supposed criminals didn’t feel the need to explain themselves.
Nor should I. I quickly dialed Ellie, mentally pulling up her itinerary.
If all had gone well, she would have boarded the flight to Denver before noon.
Passed through the final customs gate at three thirty, landed around seven this morning and checked into the first hotel in Venice.
From there, I’d arranged for breakfast and a tour with a gondola ride later.
But knowing my sister, she’d’ve gotten bored within a few minutes and diverted to the gondola first.
It rang four times. When she picked up, I could tell she was outside. “Did you make it to Venice?”
Instead of answering me, she asked, “Where are you? And where is my suitcase of underwear?”
Most of her risqué, brand-spanking-new underwear was still in its suitcase, conveniently still intact after the stylist’s pillaging. The where question was a little trickier.
Should I tell her? I sent the question to Mario. He circled his hand, as if to say go on with it. “I’m in Milan.”
“You couldn’t get a flight to Venice? What the heck?”
“No, it was the only flight available at the time.”
My sister brushed off the logistics easily. “Whatever. Just tell me what happened in as few words as possible.”
A whole hell of a lot. “Where do you want me to start?” At saying “I do” or…?
“Did you get the refund from the wedding venue?”
“No. They didn’t refund the money.”
“I bet that dick Johnny is to blame for that, isn’t he?”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Ellie shot back.
“It’s complicated. Johnny hasn’t bothered you, has he?” The last I’d seen of him, he was being hauled off to the emergency room thanks to Mario. That should have been a red flag, but I’d conveniently ignored it.
Mario raised an eyebrow as if it would help him listen in on my call easier.
“I haven’t seen him. Thank God for small favors.”
“Good.” That was one less problem to deal with.
“Listen, I know you had to deal with my mess. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I got to the airport and tried to cash in the ticket. And, you got so delayed because of it, you didn’t come back to the hotel. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, El. I’m good.”
“Really? I have your suitcases. Your itineraries and reservations…” My twin didn’t sound convinced.
“I obtained clothes.” And as far as itineraries went, those took second place to a hitman’s bounty on my…husband’s head. Even thinking about it that way made me embarrassed.
There was a beat of silence on the other end. “You… Miss ‘I wear shit-covered boots’ as a fashion statement. You’ve squirreled away every penny of Grandpa Pulaski’s money, but bought clothes? In Milan?” The latter portion of that sounded just as incredulous as it possibly could.
But technically, I didn’t buy the clothes.
And Ellie would never let me hear the end of it if I told her I’d gotten married to a gangster who whisked me away in a private jet and bought me a wardrobe that outshone all my prior clothing purchases ten-fold.
“Well, it was either that or freeze. It is February.”
“Yeah, I thought it would be warmer for some reason. I should have stayed in Vegas. I’m shivering my lady nuts off here.”
A masculine snort sounded from her end of the call.
“Are you with someone?”
Ellie never could lie to me well, so I heard the pitch change and the slight hesitation as she made up a lie. “Oh, that’s just my interpreter. Don’t mind him.”
“You hired an interpreter?” I knew damn well she wouldn’t know where to begin to do that. Ten bucks she met someone at a hotel bar and dragged him around Italy with her.
Mario leaned forward to eavesdrop better.
And reminded me I shouldn’t be judgmental. Like, at all. I quickly switched the subject. “Have you talked to Mom?”
“No. It’s crazy how she isn’t blowing up my phone over the whole wedding being called off. You’re a miracle worker.”
Ah shit. I was walking the tightrope between busted and guilty. Fall on one side and never be trusted again. Fall on the other, and I’d never be believed again. Which was worse? I opted for the truth. Ellie wouldn’t believe it anyway.
“So… about the wedding.”
“Thank you for running interference with Mom. I bet she made you live stream the opera singer anyway, right?”
Yeah, that happened. “I met someone.”
Dead, fucking silence. Finally, my sister squeaked out, “I’m sorry, what?”
“On the way to the chapel, I met someone.” The words didn’t want to come out right.
An ugly sound farted out of my sister’s mouth. “You?” The laugh started as she spoke and didn’t end.
“Yes. Me.” Damn her.
“Woooo… I mean… who?” She gasped. “Wait, don’t tell me, you ended up canceling the ride share, took the monorail, and he’s one of the lion tamers at MGM.”
“No.” What kind of person did she think I was?
“Okay, a… banker?”
“No, but his dad is.” Supposedly. I mouthed, “a banker” to Mario who had squinted at my side of the conversation when I mentioned Il Bastardo.
“Come on, really, Allie, you can’t tease me like this. What does this mystery man do? Does he even exist? Is he a homeless guy who was hurt or something? Maybe he had a little dog you couldn’t say no to?”
Her mockery was digging too deeply to ignore. All my life she’d made fun of my kindness toward anything in pain.
I chanced a glance at Mario, who was perched atop the chair like a throne, but favoring his wound.
And the fact that she was hitting so close to the truth, except maybe for the whole dog part, pissed me off.
So, I decided to lay some unvarnished truth bombs right at her feet.
“He’s in international business. You know, the Family kind. And might even be a—”
Mario leaned forward abruptly and lifted a finger in the air as if I had one chance not to screw this up.
I felt his warning almost as clearly as if he’d touched my lips with that finger.
Because of that and because Ellie would notice my pause too soon, I finished with, “—a great kisser… if he wasn’t such a stick in the mud. ”
“Oh, now that sounds like something you’d do.”
My sister was a dead woman. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing. I mean… well, there was that doctor.”
I frowned. She would have to bring him up. I had no defense readied.
“Or, the insurance adjuster.”
“No. He doesn’t count. In my defense, I broke that off almost as soon as he detailed his lettuce allergy… and his peanut allergy…”
“Don’t forget the big one, allergic to…animals.”
“I shouldn’t have worn my work coat to the date.”
“I wish I could have been a fly on that restaurant wall.”
“Good thing he carried his epi-pen,” I mused.
“So, does Mr. International Business like animals?”
I glanced at Mario who’d amused himself by pretending he wasn’t listening in anymore. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Ask. Duh.”
I covered the little hole at the end of the phone and did just that. “Do you like animals?”
Mario looked at me curiously. “Better than most people.”
Good enough. I relayed the statement to Ellie.
“What’s his name, how tall is he, and does he have any children? Oh, wait, forget I asked that. You’d be too busy taking care of them to call me.”
While I gnawed on the worry bone of whether he had children or a prior relationship looming in the not-so-distant past, I answered what I could.
“His name is Mario, and he’s kind of tall.
” And dark, and handsome…with pouty lips and a knowingly sharp gaze that didn’t miss a thing. His cheek dimpled slightly.
Ellie broke the spell that little divot was casting over me. “Mario. Like the video game? It-za me, Mario!”
I’d lay odds her voice echoed around the canals. “I’m hanging up.”
“No, don’t. I’m sorry.” A giggle leaked out which ruined the apology. I knew her well enough she wanted to say it again just to get it out of her system.
“You wouldn’t say it that way to his face. Trust me.”
“What? Like he’s dangerous? I’m sorry, but there’s no way my sister hooked up with someone dangerous. No freaking way.”
Not only hooked up with, married. “Here’s the short version. Mom loved the wedding. Aunt Susan cried. And I’ll lay odds that Dad is going to have to listen to opera for a whole month. You did good by picking that theme.”
“Wait. You…”
“Got married. Yes.”
A loud noise made me pull the phone away from my ear. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess it was the sound of plastic and glass hitting something hard. But I couldn’t ask because the call went dead.
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
“She’s with someone?”
Mario’s question shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did.
“Listen, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I know my sister.
She’s not flighty and…” Who was I kidding?
She was going to marry a wanna-be gangster up until she saw the dirt on him our family lawyer sent.
And right after finding out, stormed out of the room in the middle of the afternoon to get shit-faced drunk…
in her wedding dress, not caring what kind of scene she made. That wasn’t flighty, that was… jilted.
Mario caught on to my thoughts quickly and sent me a commiserative question in his expression. But I had more than enough doubts of my own.
“Do you think I should I be worried?”
Very carefully, he moved closer and knelt so he could rest a hand on my knee. “Do you want me to put someone on her? For protection, I mean?”
“You can do that?”
He nodded gently.
The debate in my head went like this. Yes, oh my God, please?
And, I shouldn’t bother because Ellie survived this far without help.
Not only that, but she was stubborn if she was being forced to do something.
And finally, the rampant thoughts coalesced into a singular question. What kind of man had I married?
He was connected enough to have a private plane whisk us away to Italy. He was related to a top member of the Italian government. Well-off enough to afford not only expensive fashion, but royalty-worthy fashion.
And, he was good-looking, considerate, and most of all, brutally dangerous. The type of man who could choose anyone in the world. And he was kneeling at my feet.
“Why did you marry me?” I was nothing but an unemployed veterinarian with a zany twin. I wasn’t a supermodel, or a talented actress, or anything that a man like him would want. I was…punctual…utilitarian. What an endorsement. Not.
His face softened. Maybe it started at the eyes, or in the little twitch of relaxation by his mouth.
Or in the round pads of his lips. But it was there, kindness, then humor that crinkled the skin next to his eyes.
“I married you for a limo ride.” He blushed and let the moment slip into uncomfortable silence.
Too soon, the smile on his face dropped, and he placed his hand on his wound, holding the pain in.
Maybe even the action was to hold his thoughts in. Lie through omission or hide behind humor. Ellie did that, too. Had she learned that from me?
I decided it was better we not fool ourselves. “I married you because my parents wanted to see a wedding and I really didn’t want to create a scene.”
He closed his eyes as if the confession hurt.
“But…I kind of want to stay married to see if we…”
His eyes snapped open, sharp and intense. He waited for me to continue.
It was hard to admit, but I liked him. Not just because he was wounded, or because he tried to hide the vulnerability, like all creatures with fears do, but because I sensed underneath all the glitz and the trappings of his world, and despite the oddity of our circumstances, that he was a careful man.
Solid. The kind who valued loyalty and didn’t trust lip service, but instead, looked for the actions behind any worthless words by judging the deeds a person does.
Mario was the kind of person who didn’t suffer cowards or fools, or depended on anyone who couldn’t prove their worth. And somehow, I should be worthy because he’d deemed it so.
In spite of my doubts, I continued. “I think we might fit. Maybe I’m wrong. But I believe we should find out.”
The smile on his face started with a hesitant flicker. Then his lips thinned slightly. But they softened, and the smile grew. The dimples on his face dug deep and remained in place while he silently accepted my answer.
“I’d be honored to have that opportunity.”
Why was my heart beating so fast? He hadn’t said anything earth-shattering or romantic.
But it felt momentous.