“You’re beautiful, Pippa. Most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. I hope you realize that.”
He doesn’t say anything else. His hand drops from my neck and I watch as he straightens and makes his way back over to his seat. Neither of us speaks for a while. My gaze flicks from my food to him as he eats across the table from me.
Squirming in my seat, I wonder how watching a man eat could be so sexy? He chews and I almost moan as he works the food down his sexy throat, then he drinks some wine and it starts all over again.
“Pippa?” he asks, his voice deep and rough.
Inhaling a deep breath, I shake my head. “You already know about my parents, where are yours?” I chance asking.
His brows rise and a scowl appears on his face. I expect him to tell me absolutely nothing about his family solely based on the look he’s wearing, but he surprises me.
“My mother was a comaré. You know what that is, yes?”
“I do,” I whisper.
A side piece, a mistress, whatever you want to label them, the men in the mafia usually have at least one, possibly more. They also create entire families with them. Just another reason I never wanted to marry a Made Man. But, here I am.
“She was killed. Shot in the middle of the street. There was war, she was a bystander. My father had no choice but to take me in, and his wife had no choice but to raise me.”
“Massimo,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “She was nice to me when my father was around, which was rarely. The rest of the time she acted as though I didn’t exist. I’m sure she hated me because of what I represented. I have no doubt she was angry that she was forced to raise me, had to pretend to the world that she loved me as her own. She couldn’t have her own children, you see?”
“That’s awful.”
Massimo nods. “It is, but my father didn’t make it bearable, he didn’t make things better after my mother died. Instead, he just found another woman to keep in an apartment. He openly dated her, which only made his wife angrier.”
I press my lips together for a moment, my eyes searching his and realizing that this is one reason he doesn’t fully smile. He has had a rough start to his life, he hasn’t felt love like he should have.
“He’s since retired and thankfully moved away. I haven’t seen him in years. His wife, she passed away about ten years ago from cancer.”
A thought floods my mind, maybe Massimo truly doesn’t know how to smile?
I decide right here and now that I’m going to show him. I’m going to teach him how to laugh and smile, not just go through the motions, but really do it. I’m determined, and when I set my mind to something, there is no stopping me.
Chapter Sixteen
MASSIMO
Luca is standing next to the small door of the bakery. This is one of the best bakeries in town, probably in the state if I were to be honest. They stayed small for decades when they probably could have expended a dozen times over. The old man passed away a couple of months ago and the son has been looking to expand, if the rumors are true.
“They refusing to pay?” I ask.
He jerks his chin. “Same kind of situation. Son doesn’t want to pay at all. Old man kicked the bucket couple of months ago and he’s taking over the business.”
Letting out my breath with a heavy sigh, I nod as I reach forward and wrap my hand around the door, pulling it open with a grunt. The bakery is busy, as it usually is. It’s actually one of my favorites, I always order breads and treats from here if I’m in need.
Walking over to an empty table, I sit down. Luca follows me but doesn’t sit down. “You want anything?” he asks.
“Order me some cannolis for Pippa, yeah?” Luca smirks at me before he turns his back and I watch him fall into line to be waited on.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I send a text to Gavino and ask for a meet. I need to tell him about the pictures and the email that I received. I started thinking about it late last night when I couldn’t sleep. Started going through the possibilities of who it could be.
Who the fuck got my personal email address? A phone number I could see, that shit gets passed around like candy, but an email? Who the fuck even emails like that anymore anyway? Everything is done through text messaging.
NEED TO MEET. IN PERSON.
GAVINO: FREE IN ONE HOUR.
I’LL BE AT YOUR OFFICE.
I stay planted in my chair for the next twenty minutes until Luca finally makes his way to the front of the line. I watch as he orders the cannolis then makes his way over to the cash register where the son, and new owner, is ringing up people.
Luca pays as he speaks, I watch as the son’s eyes widen, then shift over to meet mine. He jerks his chin, turns back to talk to someone behind him, then he stomps toward me and flops down in the chair across from mine.
“What the fuck do you want? You can try to shake me down, but I ain’t payin’. My dad may have been a pussy, but I’m not.”
“A pussy?” I ask.
He arches a brow, his eyes focused on me and nowhere else. He’s stupid. Where his father was smart enough to know not to fuck with us, what battles to fight. This man thinks that he’s a badass because he’s standing up to me. All he’s going to get is fucking dead doing that shit.
“He bowed down to you. Made those payments every month like clockwork, as if he fucking owed you something.”
Tilting my head to the side, I watch him for a moment, my face completely expressionless. He hasn’t offended me, hasn’t upset me in the slightest.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Roman,” he spits.
“Your father didn’t bow to anyone. Your father knew when to stand and fight and when to accept what is just part of life. This is part of life, think of it as taxes. You not paying those either?”
Roman stands, shaking his head. “Not the same. I won’t be forced to pay you. I won’t be bullied or anything else. Go fuck yourself and the entire Zanetti famiglia can fuck themselves too,” he growls.
He stands before he turns from me, walking away. I shake my head with a sigh as I rise to my feet. “Sorry it has to be this way. You let me know when you want to recant all of that,” I say to his back as I turn and walk away from him.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell,” he bellows.
Looking over my shoulder, my lips tip up into a small smile. “That can be arranged,” I calmly state.
I don’t give him an opportunity to respond. Instead, I leave the bakery. Luca follows me, his shoes clicking behind me as we walk down the street and around the corner where our cars are both parked.
Once we’re by our cars, I spin around to look at him. “He’s going to be a problem,” I grunt.
Luca snorts. “I got him as a problem and two Johns that fucked up a couple of girls that I need to deal with after I leave here. I don’t need this douche.”
Shaking my head, I hold out my hand. He slips the box of cannolis in my palm and I let out a sigh. “Get a couple guys on him twenty-four seven. I don’t want them to approach, but just have a presence. Maybe that will be enough to scare him straight.”