Seduced In The City

A moment later, Jeannette was at her side. “Look at the coglioni on that guy. He keeps this up, it’s gonna put a big dent in the week’s revenue.”

“My parents are on their first vacation in forever, and he decides to stake a claim outside our door.”

Jeannette took one of the bags, then turned around to the counter and shouted for Carlo. One of the other waitresses, Natalie, was taking phone orders.

“What’s Dom doing?” Jeannette asked.

“Trying to work something out. Notice the woman who can’t take her eyes from him.”

“That could work,” Jeannette said.

“Maybe.”

Carlo rushed past them, out the door, took the box from Dom as if they’d planned the maneuver, then hurried back inside.

Dom didn’t even lose a step. For a minute it looked as if the food truck owner was going to do something drastic. In fact, he flicked something at Dom, who stepped aside, shook his head, then kept on talking, looking calm as could be, as if nothing had happened.

Not two minutes later, the owner, the woman, Dom and several customers were all laughing.

Sara exchanged a look with Jeannette, who just shrugged. Then they looked back at the silent show. A few more words, a nod, followed by a handshake.

A goddamn handshake?

Several people at the end of the line peeled away to follow Dom, who held the door open for them. They all seemed pleased to be following their new guru, and surprisingly, she didn’t recognize a single person.

Jeannette hustled to get behind the counter, where they really needed Sara, but she couldn’t leave yet.

“Okay. We’ve settled things, and Rocky won’t be coming back to this spot again.”

“Rocky?”

“I gave him a tip on a better location,” Dom said, shrugging.

The relief was instantaneous but riding on its back was a slice of resentment that Mr. Big Shot was able to swoop in and save the day. He just fixed everything with his smile and that ridiculous charisma. Must be swell to be Dominic Paladino.

“Wait,” he said. “Did I do something wrong?”

Well, no, how could he?

She closed her eyes, ashamed that she’d let anything other than gratitude show. That she’d lost her temper in front of him. In front of anyone. And that in the end, the biggest shame of her life—the article she’d written—was but a fleeting memory for him. Even though it had haunted her for years.

“No,” she said, pulling it together. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m very grateful this mess won’t have to trouble my parents when they get back. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” he said, but the tone in his voice had changed. So had the way he was looking at her.

She didn’t blame him. Especially when she noticed that his shirt had a big splotch of tomato sauce on the sleeve. The shirt he was supposed to wear to his interview.

“Next five pizzas are on the house,” she said, trying to ease the strain.

“I didn’t do it for the pizzas,” he said, turning to leave.

She caught his arm. That big, muscular arm that tensed even more beneath her hand. “I mean it,” she said. “What you did was really kind.”

“No sweat,” he said, although the easy camaraderie they’d had on their walk had vanished as if it had never existed.

5

FOR THE FIRST time Dom could remember, he’d shown up early for a family dinner. He stood at the living room window of the home he’d grown up in, the same house where his dad had been raised, and where Dom’s granddad and great-granddad had been born. The place was a lot bigger now. A room for Nonna, a den with an elaborate sound system, a small backyard where his mom could grow her tomatoes. The patio off the dining room where his father was King of the Grill. And of course their remodeled chef’s kitchen—the beating heart of the Paladino family.

Tonight wouldn’t be a typical meal. They were going to have an important meeting, which wasn’t something that happened often. The last time they’d met in an official capacity had been to discuss Tony taking over the business after their dad’s second heart attack. The agenda this evening was to discuss the Paladino Trust. Find a way to make it more relevant to the massive changes Little Italy had undergone since the trust’s inception several generations ago.

It had been an inspired idea, one that had been woven into their lives. In a nutshell, the trust was the original rent control, established years before the government had settled on a similar system. But the goal, which had been to help keep the once tight-knit immigrant community close, affordable, safe and thriving, had eroded year by year as the world had evolved. Now, Little Italy was more of an idea than a place: a few blocks, a few stores, a few dozen families who’d descended from the first immigrants was all that remained.

He couldn’t see Moretti’s three blocks down but that didn’t stop his thoughts from going to Sara. Man, had she changed, and not just physically. She’d proven she had a fire inside her back in school when she’d taken the whole faculty to task. Everyone had been stunned by her fierce eloquence, but no one had looked more shocked than Sara herself.

After that day she’d faded into the background again. Although that might have been a reflection of his busy senior year. She’d sure gotten his attention two months later when she’d implied he was the most egregious example of why high school athletics was a complete waste of time and money. That op-ed piece, filled with inflammatory rhetoric, had pissed off a lot more people than him.

Three weeks after that he’d graduated and hadn’t thought about her at all. Before going off to college he’d eaten at Moretti’s a few times. But Sara had been nowhere in sight.

He pictured her at the order window of the Spicy Meatball, struggling to keep her temper to a controlled roar. Knowing what she could have done without the need for discretion, he respected her effort.

What he didn’t understand was her reaction to his assistance. He hadn’t been trying to dis her in any way; surely she must have known that. He’d just wanted to ease the situation, turn the argument into a win. There was no reason for her to have been so prickly about it.

Right in the middle of his interview, he’d thought about the resentful way she’d looked at him when he told her about the solution. He’d snapped out of it quickly, but damn. He couldn’t afford to have that kind of distraction.

He’d left Edelman with the promise of a follow-up interview, but he didn’t have enough of a feel for the big PR firm to know if he’d move forward.

Regardless, he couldn’t spend time wondering about Sara. All this attitude was most likely connected to the mysterious thing that had happened when they were kids. After racking his brain he couldn’t come up with anything. Other than she might’ve made it up because he’d called her on the article.

Dom saw a cab stop in front and Tony got out. His brother was probably looking forward to tonight. For once, they weren’t going to discuss wedding preparations, the guest list, anything to do with nuptials. Compared to that, a multimillion dollar trust was a walk in the park.

It would be like old times. Just the immediate family, no Catherine, no April. Even Nonna was having dinner next door with her friend. Which was good, because it would be a lot easier to talk without having to explain the convoluted evolution of the trust. Hell, it would’ve taken all night. And the women all understood they weren’t being slighted.

“What the hell?” Luca said, poking his head into the living room. “Dom’s here on time? Call the Times.”

“On time?” his mom called out from the kitchen. “He was here early.”

Tony stopped in the foyer. “What happened? You sick? In trouble? Did you get a girl in trouble?”

Dom wanted to line up his brothers and slap them both silly. “Shut up,” he said, and went to the kitchen. “Ma, I’m gonna pour some Chianti. You want some?”

She patted his cheek and smiled at him as if he was still ten, even though she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Get me and your father some iced tea. And you boys don’t drink too much until after we talk.” She looked at Tony, then Luca, then at the doorway that led to the dining room.

Luca moved first. “I’ve got the silver.”

Tony didn’t say a word, just went to get plates and salad bowls. Dom headed for the wet bar and poured some wine for the three of them.

“Ten bucks says chicken parmesan,” Luca said, doling out settings.

“You’re on.” Dom nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Luca didn’t need to know he’d already asked. “I bet you it’s chicken, but she’s doing something else with it. Something light for Pop.”

“I can smell the sauce.”

Dom grinned. “Double or nothing?”

Luca frowned as he picked up the copy of the trust by his place setting. “You did this?”

“Yeah, so?” Knowing his parents, it was inevitable they’d find something to argue about, so Dom had made copies so everyone would have their own set in their hot little hands.

Luca looked at Tony. “Our little brother’s growing up.”

Dom smacked him on his way back to the kitchen to get the iced tea.

Dinner was on the table ten minutes later, and Luca slipped the ten spot over along with a serving of salad.

“So why don’t we all read the first two pages while we have the antipasto?” Dom suggested. “Then we can talk.”

His father, Joe, who’d finally taken his seat, looked at Dom. “You got a date after?”

He just smiled, though it had occurred to Dom that if the meeting ended around nine he might bump into Sara on her way home. She’d be walking in this direction so it wouldn’t seem weird. But for all he knew, she wasn’t even working.

Although, why would he bother when he was still pissed at her?

Dom read the pages of the antiquated agreement, as if he didn’t already know most of it by heart. The last time it had been amended was back in the 1950s, and that was something their attorney—Great-uncle Peter—had suggested to protect the family in case of a lawsuit.

The room was quiet as they all read, except for the occasional sound of crunched vegetables. The language took some concentration, having originated in the early twentieth century, but the basics were straightforward.

“Okay.” Theresa put down her paper. “Let’s finish eating first,” she said. “Talk after. Give us time to digest. The last thing your father needs is agita.”

“I’m fine, Theresa. Enough. If the boys want to talk about the trust, let them.”

“I don’t know how everything has gotten so complicated,” she said. “Attorneys and accountants, and the way you boys have had to keep things so private.” Her gaze went to Tony and Luca. “It almost cost you Catherine and April. I don’t want that happening to Dominic, or your future children.”

“That’s why we’re meeting, Ma,” Luca said. “We all agree. Look at this stuff.” He waved the document so close to his wineglass he nearly knocked it over. “This was written for a different world. I’m not saying we should change the current rents, but I think it’s time we stop buying properties.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Tony said. “We don’t have to kick anyone out. Just stop adding to the problem.”

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