Italian Stallions (23 page)

Including, of course, her parents. While she was thankful to be back in San Francisco, away from Mark and making a respectable living again, she wasn’t too excited about the prospect of celebrating the holiday with her glowering, disapproving father. That is, if he wasn’t still pretending she was dead.

“What are your plans?” They hadn’t discussed the subject at all. On the one hand, Vince worked so hard he seemed like the kind of guy who would skip most holidays. On the other, she knew he came from a big Italian family like her own, the kind of family where things like holidays and traditions were important. “Are you going back east?”

“No,” he said curtly with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can really only handle one holiday a year with them, and this year it’s Christmas. So I’ll be around if you want to do something on your day off.”

He turned his attention back to his plate. Theresa took a fortifying sip of wine, wondering if what she was about to propose would turn out to be a complete disaster. “I don’t know if you’ll be interested, but Gia’s going to close the restaurant that Friday for a big family dinner. I don’t suppose you’d, like, want to go with me?” Ooh, she was about as smooth as when she’d asked Tony Spinelli to the seventh grade dance. It was times like this when she wondered why Vince, who could have his pick of any single woman in San Francisco, seemed to be so enthralled with her. There was seriously no accounting for taste.

The smile that graced his face practically made her melt into a puddle on her chair. And if that wasn’t enough to do it, the way he reached across the table and took her hand and said, “I’d love to,” his dark eyes warm and intense, pretty much sent her over the edge.

It all felt too good to be true, she reflected several days later as she was walking to work. Somehow her life, which had seemed such a wreck only a month ago, was almost completely back on track. Okay, her father still refused to take her calls, but her mother hinted that maybe once she was back in school he’d be willing to give their relationship another shot. But on the plus side she had a good job she liked and she was set to start classes at San Francisco State in January.

And she had the most perfect boyfriend in the world. And though Theresa wasn’t about to let a man define her life or be responsible for her happiness, she knew her renewed optimism was mostly due to him. The way he looked at her, the way he talked to her, made her feel like she was capable of doing anything. Almost like nothing bad could happen, as long as she could come home to him at the end of the day.

As she crossed Columbus Street and walked the last block to Ciao Bella, she couldn’t quite banish the cynical little voice that warned her this was just too perfect. When life was going this well, something bad was bound to happen.

“Hey, Theresa.”

Her blood ran cold at the sound of the familiar voice coming from behind her.

Damn, she really hated being right.

“W
hat are you doing here?” she said, taking great pride that her voice betrayed none of her panic.

With his light brown hair, blue, blue eyes and sculpted, almost pretty features, Mark Silverton resembled a daytime soap star. It was only when you looked closely that you saw the signs of his true character. The slightly bloated belly on his lanky frame from too many nights of hard drinking. The red-rimmed eyes and pallor from too many hours in smoky back rooms over never-ending hands of poker. The almost undetectable redness around his nostrils from snorting controlled substances.

Theresa had seen none of this when she first met him. She’d been blinded by his good looks and the attention he paid her, and she’d thought his less than legal activities made him sexy after her years of only dating boys her parents approved of. Out with her friends, she’d met him at a bar and she’d been swept off her feet by that first charming smile. Too bad she hadn’t been wise enough to recognize him for the snake he was.

For all the bravado Gia credited her with, Theresa wasn’t that much more worldly than her cousin. Unlike Gia, she’d dated guys before she met Mark, but she’d still been a virgin when she met him. Growing up Catholic and under her ultra conservative father’s rule meant she wasn’t going to give it up to just anyone. She was saving it, if not for marriage, then at least true love.

And like an idiot, she’d thought Mark was it. She hadn’t realized how wrong she was until it was too late. In a bold, impetuous, and, she now realized, childish, move, she’d jumped on Mark’s invitation to move to New York City with him, seeing it as a chance for adventure and a way to get out from under her father’s ever watchful eye. She was twenty-one, she’d thought, an adult, ready to make her own decisions. Even if they did prove disastrous.

It had taken her three years to get out of there, to finally cut herself loose. But here he was, turning up like a bad smell.

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that,” he said, his lips stretching into a smile that didn’t warm up his blue eyes.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Mark. What are you doing here?” He looked a little surprised at her firm tone. Not surprising, since she’d spent a lot of their relationship trying to keep him from flying off the handle. But she wasn’t the same person who’d believed so blindly in love that she would do anything to keep him happy. And she was no longer susceptible to that empty smile and the sweet, cajoling tone. She knew too well what demons Mark hid, and knew how easy it was for him to take out that darkness on her.

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I wanted to make sure you were okay. You left without a word, and I was worried.”

A humorless laugh exploded from her. “Worry? That’s what those hundred voicemails were about when you called me an faithless cunt?”

His attempt at charm fell away and his face settled into cruel, sulky lines. “You left me high and dry, Theresa. You spent all our money, and now Dante’s goons are coming after me.”

Disbelief stunned her like a physical blow. “Our money? Our money? That was my money.
I
earned it. I spent it all paying off Big Johnny to save your ass. And on rent so you wouldn’t get evicted.”

Even now it made her feel sick that, even at the end, even after all he’d done, she’d still worried about him. She’d known he was in bad shape and had paid off his dealer and advanced him rent so he wouldn’t find himself out on the street.

“I should have let Big Johnny kill you.” she said bitterly.

“I needed that money for Dante,” he said. “You should have minded your business and let me handle it.”

He took a menacing step towards her. She stepped back reflexively and cast a nervous look around, then stopped herself. He wasn’t going to hit her, not out in the open, not with this many people around. It was 5 p.m. on a Wednesday night. North Beach sidewalks were crowded with people coming from their offices from the nearby financial district, meeting up for drinks or an early dinner.

Which meant Vince could be showing up any time. True, he usually stayed later at the office and showed up at the restaurant around seven-thirty, but it would be just her luck for him to show up right as Ciao Bella opened for dinner. “I don’t have time for this, Mark.” She turned to walk into the restaurant but he grabbed her by the upper arm. To a passerby it might look like a gentle hold, but Theresa could feel the painful press of his fingers into the muscle of her arm.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Theresa. I told you I need money.”

“And I don’t see how that’s my problem.” She tried to jerk her arm out of his hold.

“It’s your problem because you emptied out our bank account, and now I’m coming to collect.”

“I don’t have any money, Mark, and even if I did, why would I give you a single cent?”

“You talk to your father lately, Theresa?”

She frowned, taken off guard by the seemingly random line of questioning.

“He forgive you for moving out yet? For living in sin?”

She swallowed hard, not liking where this was going. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I have some photos, Theresa, great photos from your stint at Slap Jack’s. I think old Nello might appreciate some copies. Maybe a big poster-size print to hang over the mantel. Here, take a look at this one.”

Theresa swallowed back her nausea and looked at the display screen on Mark’s phone. Even knowing exactly what she would see didn’t soften the blow. The resolution wasn’t great, but she easily recognized herself. Yet it was such a different version of herself it was almost like looking at a stranger.

The actions were familiar. The image showed her leaning in to put a glass in front of a male customer. But while she was still a cocktail waitress, her attire was decidedly different from what she wore for her job at Ciao Bella.

Even on the tiny screen it was clear that her makeup had been applied with a heavy hand, intended to make her eyes more exotic and mysterious, lips painted a rich, deep red. Then there was her outfit, or lack thereof. Her full breasts were tipped with flesh-colored pasties, and her gold g-string barely hid the essentials. The rest of her body was decorated with artfully applied paint and sequins.

Those were the bad old days. Her job at Ciao Bella never required her to pause in her serving duties and dance around a pole.

“Think your dad will be proud to find out his little Theresa was a stripper?”

“I wasn’t a stripper,” she snapped, though she knew it was merely a technicality. Though she didn’t actually take off her clothes and had never shown her nipples or given a lap dance, she’d danced nearly naked for tips. Most people wouldn’t see the difference. Her father certainly wouldn’t.

And she bet Vince wouldn’t either.

“I don’t have any money,” she said. “The money I took out of our joint account to pay your bills was pretty much it.”

“Cut the crap, Theresa. You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to? I’ve seen where you live with your new boyfriend. Don’t even start with this poor mouse shit.”

So she hadn’t been paranoid when those hang-up calls had given her pause and when she’d felt like someone was watching her.

She shook her head, refusing to let Vince get dragged into this. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she lied. “I take care of his dog.”

“Then what’s this?”

Theresa flinched as he reached out and hooked his finger through the chain of her necklace. She slapped his hand away. “It’s nothing.”

“Right. It sure as shit didn’t come out of a Cracker Jack box. I bet it’s worth two, maybe three grand.”

Theresa felt the blood drain out of her face. She’d had no idea it had cost that much. And she trusted Mark’s assessment, since he’d often taken his winnings in the form of jewels. “It’s a fake,” she said, tucking the pendant back into the neckline of her shirt. “I got it off a street vendor.”

“It’s Cartier,” he said blandly. “And I have no doubt you’re doing a hell of a lot more than walking his dog if he’s buying you bling like that.” He licked his lips and leered at her. “Your skills must have improved since I last saw you.”

It made her physically ill to think he’d ever touched her. That she’d willingly, even enthusiastically, given her virginity to him, actually felt bereft when his sex drive had waned as his drug use went up.

She felt awful. Stupid and dirty for ever falling for him and his millimeter-thick veneer of charm. She yanked off the necklace and shoved it at him, feeling sicker as he closed his covetous hand around it. But she’d do anything to get him out of here, out of her life, to keep her father from finding out what her life in New York had really been like.

And most of all, to protect what she had with Vince.

“Take it,” she snapped. “And take this.” She yanked her wallet out of her bag and pulled out her checkbook as well. “I have a hundred or so here,” she said, shoving a wad of bills at him, “and a little over a grand in my checking account.” She wrote out a check, knowing she’d have to put off school for another semester, but she’d worry about that later. “Don’t ever come near me again.”

She wheeled around and slammed open the door of the restaurant, entering without a backward look at Mark. Her hands were shaky, iced with cold sweat, and her intestines knotted around each other like an unruly ball of yarn.

“Was that Mark?”

Gia’s voice startled her, and Theresa took a calming breath before answering. “Yeah. But don’t worry. It’s no big deal.”

Gia wasn’t buying it, her big hazel eyes narrowing as her head tilted in a way that said she knew Theresa was bullshitting her. “He left dozens of threatening voice mails on your phone and now he shows up out of the blue. How can that be nothing?”

Theresa tied her short black apron around her waist. “He wanted to talk, that’s all.” The lie tasted bitter on her lips, especially since she was lying to Gia, the only member of her family so far to open up her arms, the only one who didn’t treat Theresa like a huge fuckup.

“Let me talk to Gabe,” Gia said, reaching for the phone. “He can help you with a restraining order—”

“I don’t need a restraining order,” Theresa replied, more sharply than she intended. “And that’s nice of you to offer to call Gabe,” she added, softening her tone, “but he’s got much bigger problems to deal with than my stupid ex-boyfriend.” Plus if Mark got wind that an FBI agent was sniffing around and that Theresa had filed a restraining order, a FedEx man would show up on her father’s doorstep tomorrow, guaranteed. She pasted a smile on her face and gave her cousin what she hoped was a reassuring hug. “Thanks for worrying about me, but I can take care of myself.”

Gia didn’t look convinced, but put the receiver back on the hook.

“And Gia,” Theresa said, deliberately casual as she wiped down a table, “don’t say anything to Vince. I don’t want him to worry.”

Gia cocked an eyebrow and gave her a very pointed look. “You don’t think Vince should know your ex-boyfriend is in town?”

Theresa’s gaze skittered away from her cousin’s hard stare and shame heated her cheeks. She hadn’t spelled out her relationship with Vince, but Gia would have had to be blind not to notice that something was going on. She straightened her shoulders and met her cousin’s look dead on. “There’s no reason for Vince to know,” she said, staring back at Gia in a way that told her if Gia spilled to Vince, Theresa would never forgive her.

“Everything okay?” Vince asked when Theresa hung up her phone. She’d practically jumped off the couch when it rang. Then she’d looked at the caller ID and breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief before greeting Gia on the other end. He wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t been watching her so closely. But lately he’d been keeping a close eye on her every move, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Theresa was keeping something from him, Vince knew it. She was startled every time the phone rang, and when they were out, her eyes constantly roved over the crowd as though she was looking for someone. A few times in the past week he’d shown up at Ciao Bella to find Theresa and Gia in fiercely whispered conversation, only to have Theresa smile blandly at him when he asked what was going on.

“Gia just wanted to know what time we were going to show up on Friday. I told her around four, if that’s okay with you.”

“Fine,” he said, taking in her wide, innocent-looking eyes and anxious smile. His years spent negotiating across boardroom tables had made him pretty good at reading people. He knew when companies were fudging numbers or overselling their “revolutionary” technologies. And he knew when someone wasn’t telling him everything he needed to know.

It was frustrating as hell. He’d never met a more closemouthed woman. In the past, women had been all too eager to spill themselves over the table, telling him about their mommy issues, their daddy issues, their relationship issues, their issue issues, in an effort to get him to open up too. Theresa would talk about work, about school, and about him, but not much else. She’d once alluded to the fact that she and her father hadn’t spoken much after she moved to New York with her boyfriend.

And forget any info about the boyfriend. Vince couldn’t even get a name, not even from Gia, who finally told him point blank that if he had any questions about Theresa and her past, he needed to ask Theresa himself.

He was annoyed. At Theresa, for being so closed up when he thought they’d reached a turning point in their relationship. And at himself, for wanting to know every damn thing about a woman, and for using phrases like “turning point” about dating a woman.

Theresa, all five-foot-two and approximately one hundred ten pounds of her, was turning big, tough Vince Mattera into a goddamn chick.

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck’s bugging you, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” He’d meant to keep his tone light and joking, but he obviously didn’t succeed if the way Theresa scooted herself into the far corner of the couch and folded her knees into her chest was any indication.

“N-nothing’s bugging me. I’m a little nervous about seeing the family tomorrow, that’s all.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?”