Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
GAbrIEL
“ B uongiorno , Mr. Gabriel,” Letizia called out from the stove the moment I set foot inside the kitchen.
Good morning indeed—one of the best I’d had in weeks. At the very least, since before my uncle’s betrayal and death. Or long before that, if I was being honest with myself.
And not just because the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked cornetti filled the kitchen.
Last night with Liv had been nothing short of amazing, and after waking up with her still wrapped up in my arms, I’d been tempted to linger a while in bed. But it was already past eight o’clock—long past the time my day usually started, even after a night out.
But even as I pulled free from the tangle of her sleepy limbs and forced myself up, I kept looking back at her. A riot of auburn curls splayed across my pillows. Her fingers loosely wrapped around my Egyptian cotton sheets. Eyes closed, she was still very much asleep and probably would be for hours.
I couldn’t blame her.
While I’d never been particularly quick with any of the women I left the club with, I’d really taken my time with Liv last night. I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Every moan, every purr, every gasp as I played with her body spurred me on. I could have listened to the music of her pleasure until daybreak, but even I had my limits. There was only so long a man could surround himself in that warm, lush heaven and not lose himself.
But even though the sex last night had been earth-shattering, the world around us had stubbornly continued to turn.
The life I lived didn’t come with weekends off. There were no office hours or time off. As the head of the family, I had to be available no matter the day or time. I was always on.
I headed toward the espresso maker on the far counter and started heating the milk for my morning cappuccino.
“There are pistachio and chocolate cornetti for you this morning, Mr. Gabriel,” Letizia said as she continued to bustle around the kitchen. “Which do you think your new lady friend would prefer?”
A puff of foamed milk flew into the air as I accidentally dipped the milk pitcher in my hand down too low. “I’m not sure.”
“Hmm.” Only my housekeeper could infuse a single sound with so much judgment and disappointment. “How about her coffee? Espresso? Con latte? Cappuccino?”
“I don’t know?”
Once I finished pouring my own cup, I turned around to find my housekeeper staring daggers at me. “What do you mean you don’t know ?”
I shrugged, doing my best to look unbothered, even though Letizia was one of the few people in the world who knew how to play my emotions. The woman had been running this house since before I was born, after all, and had all but taken on the role of mother to my brother and me when our own had died.
She was also a true master when it came to guilt, working it with the same skill and precision as Michelangelo had with marble. I firmly believed that if Letizia ever found herself in this kitchen with the devil, he’d be the one who left in tears.
“What kind of man are you, inviting a woman into your home without learning a thing about her?” she asked.
“A bad one,” I answered honestly.
“ Pshh ,” she waved that excuse off with a dramatic flourish. “You might fool everyone else with that tough guy role, but not with the woman who changed your diapers, monello .”
A tsk carried in from the doorway behind me, and I looked over to see my twin walking in with a stack of papers in his hands.
“Not even nine o’clock, and Letizia is already handing you your ass,” Matteo said. “What did you do this time?”
If I wasn’t in such a good mood, I would have told him to wipe that ridiculous grin off his face. Like any true younger brother, he couldn’t resist gloating every time I found myself on the housekeeper’s bad side.
“I don’t know if our guest prefers pistachio or chocolate cornetti,” I said.
“Or how she takes her coffee,” Letizia quickly added, shaking the wooden spoon still clutched in her hand. “Or anything else about her, I imagine. I’m surprised he even knows her name. And here I thought this one might be different. Well, at least you’re not shooing her out the door at daybreak like usual.”
Matteo put his papers down on the kitchen’s center island and leaned in, reaching for one of the green-ribboned pistachio pastries off the plate in the middle. “See. This is exactly why I don’t ever bring anyone home,” he muttered in a hushed tone.
But if Matteo thought that whispers were all it took to escape Letizia’s venomous tongue, he was wrong.
She brought the wide part of her spoon down hard on the side of the plate, making Matteo snatch his hand back before his fingers could get thwacked. The sound was as sharp as any gunshot as it echoed through the stone-tiled kitchen.
“Don’t act like you’re any better, cattivello ,” she sniped. “I know the kind of women you like to spend time with in that club of yours. The only reason they’re not here come morning is that you’re too tight-fisted to pay them their hourly rate to spend the night.”
Now, it was my turn to laugh as Matteo’s grin faded away.
“Sometimes, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you boys,” she lamented—mostly to herself—as she turned around and headed back to the stove. “Your poor father must be heartbroken, looking down from heaven at the state of his family. Any hope of the family name continuing on washed away as his sons chase after every skirt in Manhattan.”
“Not all his sons,” Matteo said. Now that Letizia and her spoon were across the room, he was brave enough to reach for his breakfast again. “Dorian is engaged now. And given the way he can’t keep his hands off his fiancé, I’m sure they’ll be popping out kids left and right soon.”
“True,” Letizia admitted. “Mr. Dorian has always been the most dependable of one of you boys.”
Dependable ? That was certainly one way to describe New York’s most feared assassin and the man colloquially known as The Angel of Death.
“It’s just too bad he didn’t take on the D’Angelo name when your father adopted him,” she continued. “So any children he has will be Marchettis.”
She shot a glare over her shoulder, making it clear that, in her mind, that meant we weren’t off the hook.
“Well, brother,” I said, clapping Matteo on the back as he sunk his teeth into his pastry. “I guess that means you’ll just have to knock up one of those exotic dancers at your club.”
“Gabriel D’Angelo, you stronzo !” Letizia shrieked in shock as she spun around. But it wasn’t just insults she was flinging. Arching her arm high above her head, she let the wooden spoon fly. Her aim was every bit as good as her baking, and I cursed as the damn thing ricocheted off my chest.
Behind us, a full-throated feminine laugh rang out. Both Matteo and I swiveled around at the same time to see Liv standing there, her hands covering her wide-open mouth.
She must have gotten up and ready quickly. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a thick ponytail, though plenty of stray strands had escaped the tie and fluttered around her face. Her outfit was simple: pale linen shorts and a plain cotton T-shirt. Her feet were bare.
For a moment, I just stared, taking in the sight of her. Somehow, she managed to be even more beautiful in such a casual outfit than in the couture dress last night.
I had a feeling that it wouldn’t matter what she wore. Liv would always be this stunning.
“Is something funny?” Letizia asked.
Liv shook her head. “No, not at all,” Liv answered quickly, no doubt fearing there was another spoon where that came from if she answered wrong. “I was just appreciating your form. You could pitch for the Yankees.”
Clearly, that was the correct answer because Letizia beamed at the praise. “Of course, I could. If I didn’t have to spend all my time keeping these boys in line, that is. Now stop looming in the doorway, and let me serve you breakfast.”
Liv quickly shook her head. “You don’t have to go to any trouble. I just wanted to see if Gabriel was down here.”
“What trouble?” Letizia said, already bringing a plate down for the cupboard. “As for this one—“ She poked her thumb in my direction. “He’s been about as useful as a fishnet condom. He couldn’t even tell me how you like your coffee.”
“I usually drink tea,” she said.
“Classy,” the housekeeper said with an approving nod. “Please pull up a chair and eat. You’re so scrawny a strong breeze would blow you down the street.”
“I think she likes you,” I whispered as Liv hesitantly pulled out the stool on the farthest corner of the island.
“Of course, I like her,” Letizia called out, already putting the kettle on the burner. “This one’s not like the others. She’s a nice girl. A good girl. Anyone could see that. What she’s doing with you, I’ll never understand.”
“And I’ll never explain,” I answered right back. Mostly because if I did, I was certain I’d be hit with a hell of a lot more than just a wooden spoon. Just to be sure, I cast Liv a pointed look. “And neither will you.”
Her face paled a little at my harsh tone, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake.
Of course, Letizia was right there to make sure I knew I had.
“Oh, don’t you listen to them,” she assured Liv in the motherly tone she used when we were on her good side. “They like to think the whole city is afraid of them, but they’re not so scary. They’re nothing but a couple of pagliacci .”
“You want to go down and tell the DA that,” Matteo said. “While you’re at it, maybe see if you can convince the FBI.”
“Oh, don’t try to puff yourself up, boy,” she said, wagging her finger at him. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told your father for forty years—if you were even half as bad as you pretend to be, the police would’ve found a way to make their charges stick. But since they can’t, you’re obviously not.”
It’s true. All my life, I’d heard her say that. To this day, I’m not sure whether she actually believed that line of logic.
“My apologies if I woke you up when I left the bedroom,” I said to Liv, hoping that by talking to her, I could change the subject. “I thought you were dead asleep.”
“I was,” she said somewhat sheepishly. “But I’m usually an early riser. I can’t remember the last time I slept in this late.”
Probably the last time that she spent the night with a man capable of keeping her up all night.
For some reason, even the idea sent a cascade of anger rushing through me. I couldn’t stand the thought of another man daring to touch Liv. It was enough to fill me with rage.
“You can sleep as long as you want while you’re here,” I told her. “There’s no reason for you to get up early.”
“Oh…I guess not.” Even more of the brightness faded from her eyes as her shoulders slumped. “It’s just...I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not working.”
“Relax. Do your hair. Paint your nails,” I said, listing off suggestions I knew other women liked.
“Paint her nails?” Letizia threw her hands up. “You invite a nice girl like this to stay with us for the summer, then tell her to paint her nails all day?”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the right answer, but what did I know?
All of my experience with ladies came in the dark of night. I wasn’t particularly up to date on what they did during business hours.
“Maybe she could help you in the kitchen,” I tried.
Letizia looked over at Liv. “Do you like to cook, signorina ?”
“Not particularly.”
“What do you like?” she asked.
“Numbers,” Liv answered. “I’m an accountant. At least, I was .”
Letizia must not have heard the sadness that crept into Liv’s voice at the end there because her whole face lit up with a wide smile.
“An accountant? Well, there’s the answer.”
My brows pulled together. “What answer?”
The housekeeper rolled her eyes as if the answer was obvious. “If the girl’s good with numbers, then Matteo can give her the books he’s been struggling with for the new nightclub.”
I glanced over at Matteo. “You’ve been struggling with La Sera?”
My brother gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. The old owners almost ran the place into the ground with their lax bookkeeping practices. But I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
“I’d be happy to take a look at the numbers if you like,” Liv offered.
Matteo and I shared a look. He didn’t have to say a word for me to know what he was thinking. All he had to do was arch his brows just enough to ask if it was a good idea to let the sister of one of our enemies, a woman who was being held against her will, have access to our financial information.
But seeing as La Sera was Matteo’s baby and not officially affiliated with the D’Angelo family as a whole, I didn’t see the harm.
“Would it make you happy?” I asked her.
Her eyes lit up. “Very happy.”
“Okay then,” I said before finishing off the last of my cappuccino and placing the empty cup back in the saucer. “I don’t see the harm. Maybe a new set of eyes will help you see solutions you missed before.”
“And it would also help me free up time to focus on family concerns,” Matteo said.
Right.
“Speaking of family concerns, I have some meetings on the other side of town and will be out of the house all day,” I said.
Letizia rolled her eyes. “Somehow, we will find a way to continue through the day without you.”
“I’ll be back by evening,” I said, pushing back my stool and walking over to Liv’s side. Without thinking, I pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Be ready for dinner around 8 o’clock. We’ll be going out again.”
“Oh…okay,” she said somewhat hesitantly before immediately asking Matteo when she could see the books.
“They’re upstairs,” he said, getting up from the island as well. “Give me a moment. I’ll be down with them in a minute.”
As I headed out the door, ready to face another day, I heard Letizia’s voice behind me say, “See what I mean, signorina ? Those boys aren’t so scary if you know how to talk to them right. Stick around, and I’ll teach you all my tricks. Between the two of us, we’ll have these boys whipped into shape in no time.”