Chapter 2 #3
He could see Gabrielle’s fingers gripped tightly around her pen.
Her control wasn’t come by easily. Maybe it was the simple fact that she didn’t like the Mafia.
Or it might be she just didn’t like Sabatino’s oily style.
Devlin couldn’t blame her for that. Come to think of it, he’d had about as much of Sabatino as he could tolerate in one sitting.
They had all the information they needed for now.
“We’ll notify you as soon as the bail hearing is set,” he said, rising and going to the door to signal Sabatino’s escort to come for him.
“Send the signorina instead of you next time,” Sabatino suggested with a final significant glance at Gabrielle. Neither of them answered as the jailer led him away.
“Not a chance, turkey,” Devlin muttered. He turned to Gabrielle. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”
She lifted a shoulder. “He’ll get over it.”
Yeah, but would she? She was upset, Devlin mused, though doing a good job of hiding it. “Are you ready to leave?”
“No, you go ahead.” She hesitated. “There’s another matter I should check on while I’m here.”
“All right. I’ll see you later, then. Looks like it’s going to be a working dinner for us tonight. You want me to bring takeout?”
“Dinner?” she repeated blankly.
“Yeah, I figure we might as well eat. We need to discuss the bail hearing, talk about preliminary strategy. The client’s a little antsy, not much interested in giving us breathing time. So? Your place or mine?” he asked on a lighter note.
“Oh.” She rubbed a hand over her forehead, clearly distracted. “My place, I guess. 4123 Greenbriar. It’s the pale yellow brick.”
“Got it. I’ll be there around seven.”
“Fine.” She waved at him absently and walked off in the opposite direction from the exit.
Now that, Devlin thought, watching her, had been a very strange meeting. Lots of hidden undercurrents and he wanted to know why. He was a patient man, though. If there was something between Gabrielle and Sabatino, he’d find out what it was. Eventually.
* * *
Gabrielle waited until she was certain Sinclair had left, even going to the extent of checking the parking lot for his car, before she asked to see Sabatino again. If Sinclair found out it could be bad, but she’d take that risk. She had to see Franco.
Though surprised, the jailer gave her no trouble about bringing Sabatino back to the conference room. A few minutes later, she and Franco sat on opposite sides of the table, measuring each other silently.
Go for the jugular, Gabrielle thought. “So, Franco, what rock have you slithered out from under this time?”
“Ah, Gabriela. Bellisima, squisita! My heart stopped when I walked in that door and saw you. It’s been too long, cara mia.”
“It hasn’t been nearly long enough. Cut the crap and tell me why you called my firm.” You lowdown piece of shit, she added silently. Oh, he was the same Franco. But she wasn’t the same girl he’d known. She was older. And smarter and stronger.
He spread his hands. “I should think that is obvious. I needed a lawyer. A good one.”
“Naturally, you thought of me.” She skimmed a disgusted gaze up and down his solid form. Dark. Hair, eyes, and soul. Years later, he still looked good, if you forgot he was a monster. “Me. A woman you haven’t seen in fourteen years.”
“You have a reputation.” With a calculating smile, he relaxed in his chair.
“Yes, I do. And if you want me to get you out of here, you’ll level with me.”
“Gabriela.” He opened his eyes wide in what she knew was feigned distress. “Can you possibly think I would betray?—?”
Gabrielle tamped down a surge of nausea. “We both know what you’re capable of. Save the hearts and violins for some other fool. Did you contact me on your own? Or was it Vito’s idea?”
“Vito misses you. He’s never been the same, never stopped grieving.”
Even after all this time, even despite the bitter memories, sadness swelled in her soul when she thought of him. “Did Vito set this up? Did he send you to me, to my firm?”
Franco hesitated, then shook his head. Gabrielle said nothing for a long moment, then she leaned forward and spoke very quietly, deliberately. “Then we won’t bring Vito into this. Do you understand? He’s not to be mentioned. I cut my ties with Vito fourteen years ago and you know why.”
“You must?—”
Her voice was calm and deadly icy when she interrupted. “Don’t cross me, Franco. Or you’ll find out that Vito isn’t the only Donati you need fear.”
Seconds ticked by while their gazes locked. Finally, Franco glanced away. “You wrong me, cara. I won’t expose you.”
“Good.” Thank God, she sounded cool, because inside she shook with nerves. It would be a major mistake to let Franco know just how much he’d gotten to her. “Now that we understand each other, I’ll see what I can do to get you out of jail.”
“Ciao, mi bellisima Gabriela.”
“Gabrielle Rousseau. Remember it.” She repeated it silently as she left, as if saying her name would make the truth impotent. It only mocked her, though. She knew what would happen if the truth ever came out.
Ruin.