"No. I'm not going to say anything unless he does first."
"Wow, that's real mature."
Rosalie sat back and firmly put on her woman-in-charge persona. "Gina, if he's the one who's the source of the rumors and possibly has ties to someone inside, do we really want to let him know we're on to him?"
Gina blew her hair out of her eyes, stood, and locked gazes with Rosalie. "Is that the only reason you're not confronting him? Or are you waiting for him to confess all and beg for forgiveness?"
Well, yeah, that, too, but she'd take that little factoid to her grave. Rosalie stared Gina down until her assistant gave in, looked away, and strode out the door without another word.
Rosalie picked up the phone and dialed Nick.
Nick closed his cell phone. Rosalie was late. She didn't know when she'd be home, and she sounded stressed and exhausted. Nick rubbed Dave's head, which was resting on his lap, and looked around the apartment.
"Come on, boy. Let's go get something for dinner. We'll surprise your mom when she gets home." Dave waited by the door with his tail wagging.
They headed to Vinny's restaurant and went in through the back door.
Vinny turned around, eyeing Nick and Dave. He pointed at Dave and wagged his finger. "You keep that mutt outta my kitchen."
"You know, Dave has better manners than you do. Don't talk about him that way." Nick widened his stance, because Dave had begun leaning on his leg. He'd learned from experience that, unless you were prepared, when Dave leaned all the way-you fell over. "Dave, down."
Dave gave him one of his you-gotta-be-kidding looks.
"You want a meatball, you behave."
Dave lay down at the threshold to the kitchen, and Nick stepped over him.
"I need dinner, something nice. It sounds as if Lee's had an awful day. I'm not sure when she'll be home, so it has to be something that will keep."
Vin flipped something in a frying pan and set it down on the stove. "What do I look like, the freaking Barefoot Contessa? I hear she lives in the Hamptons; you want I should give you directions? Oh, right, you know how to get there. You got a freakin' house out there. So why are you here bugging me?"
"Come on, Vin, I just want to... I don't know... make Lee feel better, you know?" "I know you got it bad. That's what I know." "Cut it out, Vin."
"Cut it out, Vin," he parroted back. "Nino, I need two chicken cacciatores cacciatores to go, give them extra pasta, and throw in a half-dozen meatballs for the mutt. Oh, and box up a few to go, give them extra pasta, and throw in a half-dozen meatballs for the mutt. Oh, and box up a few cannolis cannolis while you're at it. Nick and I are going to step into my office." while you're at it. Nick and I are going to step into my office."
Nick looked over at Dave, who had fallen asleep. "Nino, keep an eye on Dave for me, okay?"
"Sure, sure. I keep an eye on everything. I cook, I clean, I dog sit. Go. Go!"
Nick followed Vinny to his office off the kitchen. Vin sat behind the desk, spun around in his chair, and reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels. "You want whiskey or wine?"
"Neither. What do you need, Vin?"
"I'm just looking out for my baby cousin-"
"Come on, I'm no baby, and you know it."
Vinny poured a glass of Jack for himself and rolled it around the glass, sniffed it, then took a sip. "Ah... Okay, here's what I need to say. I think you're getting in over your head with this girl. You're going to end up with a broken heart if you don't watch out."
"Oh, right. Have you ever seen me get attached to a woman?"
"No, but then you've never come to the restaurant wanting to bring a woman a nice dinner because she's had a lousy day, either. Matter-of-fact, if some chick you were seeing had a lousy day, you were either the reason her day was lousy or running as fast as you could in the opposite direction."
"Lee is different. She doesn't try to trick me, and she's not after my money. She's not one of those women who make you prove you care by expecting you to jump through hoops like a toy poodle. Lee is fun and nice, and she's low maintenance. When I do something for her, she's floored. When she smiles, it means so much more because it's real. She's real."
"Like I said, you got it bad."
Nick shook his head. "You've been drinking too much. Lee and I have a good time together. So what? I like her."
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Vinny took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. "Now listen up, I'm only going to say this once. That way when you're in bad shape after having your heart stomped on and shoved down your throat, I won't have to kick you when you're down." He leaned forward, as if he were about to pass along a golden tidbit of age-old wisdom. "Dominick Romeo, what did I tell you? You never listen to me. See, I told you she'd break that heart of yours. I told you this would happen, remember?"
"Vin, you are as bad as Nana. Next, you'll be saying I should get married and bring you bambinos to rock to sleep."
"It'd be nice to have a baby around. I love kids, you know that."
"You're scaring me, Vin. Do yourself a favor and get rid of the bottle. Go to a meeting." Nick backed out of the office, afraid Vin would throw something at him.
"Ha, ha, very funny. You are so fucked, my friend."
"Whatever. Put the bill on my tab. I'm out of here."
Vinny's off-key rendition of the wedding march followed Nick down the hall toward the kitchen.
On his way out, Nick stopped by the wine cellar and grabbed a nice bottle he was sure Vin would curse him out about later. Served Vinny right for giving him shit about Rosalie.
Nick drove back to the apartment, discounting everything Vinny had said. Hadn't Nick sworn off marriage? He'd told Vin a million times that he was putting an end to the Romeo line. Hell, he'd even made Vin and Mona the beneficiaries of his estate, and their kids after them. He had no intention of repeating Romeo history.
Sure, Nick liked Rosalie more than all the others put together. That was true, but only because she was different. They were a pair, neither of them wanting to turn into their parents. Not that Nick remembered his father, but he'd heard enough about the bastard to know he'd become a carbon copy... only he warned the girls not to fall for him, and he took off before he married them. Oh, yeah, and he used birth control.
When Nick got to the apartment, he struggled with the four freakin' locks on the damn door while juggling the bags containing dinner. He heard the phone ringing. Thinking it might be Rosalie, he pushed the door open and hurried in.
The machine picked up "Hey, little sis, I thought you'd be home by now. How ya doing, kiddo? Ma said something about a boyfriend? He better be treating you right, but Lord knows, he can't be any worse than that jackass Joey. Ma hates the new guy, which is a good sign. I'll be down the middle of next week for spring break. Can I use your car again? I have to go to Jersey to see the Delgatos. You remember Tom, right? Anyway, if I don't hear from you, I'll call when I get in. Love you, Ro. 'Bye."
Nick dropped the bags on the table. Christ, Rich was coming home. It felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. He sank into a chair, trying to breathe and control his urge to pound something. He wasn't ready. Goddamnit!
Chapter Fifteen.
Rosalie got off the train at the same stop where Nick had dropped her off that morning, and Nick was nowhere to be found. Great. She'd called him like he'd told her to. Maybe he hadn't gotten the message. It wouldn't be the first time. Thinking she'd never survive a long walk in heels that were already killing her, she caught a cab home.
When the cab pulled up to the brownstone, the apartment was dark. Dave nudged the curtains open. His reflective leash hung from his collar. Rosalie's heart stopped. Something was wrong. She threw a twenty at the cabbie and ran up the steps, cursing the time it took to get through the security door. The door to the apartment stood open. Nick never left the door open. She took a deep breath and barreled inside.
"Nick?"
The place was completely dark. He sat at the table, wearing his jacket, his head in his hands. His elbows rested on his knees. Dave circled his chair and whined.
"God, Nick. What's the matter? What happened?"
He looked up, startled. "Lee. I thought you were going to call."
"I did. Are you okay? Why are you sitting here in the dark? Did something happen?"
Nick stood, his movements jerky and arthritic. He moved like an old man did after sitting for too long.
He waved his hand toward the bags on the table. "I got dinner. What time is it?"
"Nick, what's wrong with you?" "Nothing."
His eyes changed. They went blank. She'd never seen him look at her like that. She stepped back, feeling as if she'd been slapped.
"Fine." She threw her briefcase down and cursed silently. So he'd reinstated the "don't ask, don't tell" policy. As if her day hadn't been bad enough, she had to come home to this.
Rosalie went into the bedroom, shut the door, and sat on the bed trying hard not to cry. She was mad, that's all. He'd told her to call him. She had, and he'd left her standing on a street corner in the dark. Then he'd dismissed her when she wanted to know what the hell was wrong with him. She had every right to be pissed. God, she hoped this didn't have something to do with Premier.
Rosalie took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like one taken between sobs. She'd be damned if she'd let him hurt her. Well, no more.
She changed out of her suit and threw it on the treadmill just to piss him off. Dressed in her ugliest nightshirt and ratty sweats, she checked her face in the mirror and practiced her I-could-give-a-shit look before leaving the bedroom.
The table was set, the plates filled, and the wine poured. Nick shrugged. "I thought you'd be hungry."
"Yeah, I am."
He held the chair for her, and she sat, wondering what the hell was going on, but unable to ask.
"There's cannoli cannoli for dessert." "Oh." for dessert." "Oh."
Rosalie ate but didn't taste anything. Conversation was nonexistent. After they did the dishes in silence, she did work she didn't need to do while Nick watched TV in the bedroom. Dave went from room to room, looking as confused as she felt.
Nick took Dave for a walk at about eleven. When they returned, he stood beside Rosalie.
She looked up and met his shuttered eyes. "What?"
"Are you coming to bed?"
"No." She shuffled through her paperwork. "I've got work to finish before tomorrow."
He watched her for a minute, as if he wanted to say something, but turned away and walked quietly into the bedroom. After a few minutes, she saw the light go off. The silence was deafening.
Nick peered over the edge of a freshly dug grave. He pulled the collar of his overcoat together and wondered what he'd done with his cashmere scarf. The wind cut through all the layers he wore and chilled him bone deep. Rosalie stood more than an arm's length away, staring at him as he looked down into the depths of the empty grave. Her sadness smacked into him like a cold wave. A tear ran down her cheek, and he reached for her. He was-n't sure if it was to comfort her or himself. His hand found nothing but air, as her image began to fade.
Nick awoke with a start. Breathless. His heart raced, and he jerked. Rosalie, whose sleeping body lay draped over his, grumbled something. She took a deep breath and snuggled closer, using his shoulder as a pillow. Her soft, steady breathing warmed his neck. He pulled her closer and held on, telling himself it had just been a bad dream. He was still able to reach out and touch her. He could make love to her. She was still his. For now, at least.
He ran his hand down her bare back and remembered how she'd looked that morning-sexy, confused, and indignant. No one could do indignant better than Rosalie. Sometimes, he ticked her off, just because it was such a turn-on. There wasn't a time Rosalie hadn't made every nerve in his body stand at attention. He wanted her. Even when she looked like death. Even when she was dressed in her rattiest, form-camouflaging rags. Even when she wore ugly clothes like those she'd worn earlier.
He rolled them over and stroked her smooth skin while she slept. Even asleep, she was the most sensual woman he'd ever known. He took her already-tight nipple into his mouth and slid between her legs. Her hips moved beneath him, rubbing against his arousal. Rosalie sucked in a breath and pulled his head closer to her breast.
"Nick" she sighed. He couldn't tell if she was awake yet. He didn't care. Nick needed her-right now. She'd wake up eventually, and he was going to make sure she'd awaken with a smile on her face.
"Oh, God, yes." Rosalie was almost afraid to open her eyes and discover it was an extremely vivid dream. A delicious, head-swimming, pulse-racing, breath-catching dream. She wrapped her legs around the sex god, who in her dream looked exactly like Nick, and felt him shudder.
Stubble scraped against her breast, and a chill came over her when the cool air whisked over her damp nipple.
"Open your eyes, Lee. Look at me."
Darn it. She wanted to keep on dreaming. She didn't want to take the chance that she'd see a blank stare. She was already exposed, raw.
She wiggled, increasing the pleasure, but not enough. Satisfaction was out of reach.
A soft kiss from familiar, insistent lips slid over her mouth. She heard a groan, then nothing but cool air washed over her body.
"Come on, sweetheart, I need you to look at me."
She really hated it when he called her sweetheart in that deep, sleepy, "do me, baby" voice of his.
"Please, Lee."
The bed dipped beside her, and she rolled toward him. She opened her eyes, and her Nick stared back at her. He sat stroking her bare body. His gaze branded her and pulled her into a swirling vortex, surrounded by pulsating body heat. She held onto him as he stretched out over her. His body touched hers as she arched her back and flipped them over. A look of surprise, then pleasure came over his face.
She straddled his hips. "I want to make love to you this time."
Rosalie held his gaze as she slowly slid her body onto his, her breasts rubbing against the coarse hair of his chest. He hissed before he lifted his hips to drive himself deeper into her. They clung to each other. She felt possession and possessed. When they moved, their gazes locked, their bodies entwined, and they jumped off the edge of a cliff. Fear, sorrow, and a hailstorm of feeling pelted her. She saw desperation and need in his eyes. She'd never seen Nick vulnerable before. The man making love to her was stripped bare.
Rosalie held him, made love to him. Took what he offered and gave all she had. She opened herself up and invited him into her heart, her soul. Why, she didn't know. Maybe because he'd asked. Maybe because he'd met her halfway. His kisses breathed life into her. Their bodies moved as one, and they came apart together, clinging to each other and holding off the dark cloud that loomed over them.
Later, Rosalie awoke alone to the alarm clock. When she reached for Nick, she felt only cold sheets. He was long gone. She wondered if it had all been a dream. The way he'd looked. The way she felt. The way they'd made love. A shiver of apprehension ran through her. She reached over to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. A pile of his boxers lay neatly folded next to her thongs. Relief rushed through her. For a moment, she'd thought maybe last night had been his way of saying good-bye. She laughed at herself. She was being ridiculous. He'd had a bad day and was a little quiet. It wasn't the end of the world.
She stretched and called for Dave. When Dave didn't jump up on the bed, she smiled. He'd taken Dave to work with him. She bet he'd even buckled the big guy in.
Nick hadn't fallen back to sleep after he and Rosalie had made love. He'd spent the rest of the night holding her and memorizing the way she felt against him. The enormity of what had happened still had the power of a fist in the gut. Their lovemaking had always been incredible, athletic, and rang bells he'd never heard before. Last night had felt like the beginning of the end. It was as if she'd known it, too. It was more tender, more touching, more intense. Hell, it was so powerful, the memory alone brought tears to his eyes. He'd never felt anything so deeply, and he knew he'd never feel that with anyone else. Only Rosalie.
"Nick?" Rosalie called his name and saw that he was somewhere else. Again. "Nick?" She reached across the pizza box and gave him a shake. His eyes focused as he came back from wherever he'd been-probably the same place he was since his strange behavior had begun Monday night. She knew that something was up with him, something he wasn't sharing. She'd asked once, but it had come across loud and clear that the subject was off-limits. She just hoped he wasn't feeling guilty about screwing her, her career, and Premier Motorcars over.
"Yeah. Um... what did you say?"
"I asked if you wanted a beer." He looked more sad, preoccupied, and restless than guilty. His gaze shot to the pizza between them as, if he'd never seen it before.
"Yeah, a beer would be good."
Rosalie got an IPA for him-one of those disgustingly dark beers she could stand a spoon in-and a Hefeweizen for herself. She sat down, put the beer on the coffee table in front of him, and gnawed on her crust while she watched him peel the label off his beer bottle.
He'd hardly touched the pizza. This distance between them was driving her nuts. He'd been acting as if he wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe it wasn't guilt at all. Maybe he was moving on. Hell, from the looks of it, he'd already moved on-in spirit, if not in body.
Rosalie tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs refused to work. Could she be coming down with pneumonia again? It felt as if a lead weight had landed on her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe.