Page 20 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)

CHAPTER 18

GAbrIEL

After the open night I head home, but I’m not tired. I’m still energized by my anger, by the idea that Nero Andretti, not satisfied with invading my personal privacy, has taken it upon himself to threaten the people and places that I love. So instead of heading to my cottage, I go to Nero’s guesthouse instead, where I take my example from him and wait in the shadows for him to return. I’m expecting a very late night, but he appears only a little after midnight.

I step forward, saying, “You’re back early.”

He doesn’t even jump. “I am,” he says, barely glancing at me from the side of his eyes. “Did you want to discuss the wedding security? Or would you simply like to come in for a nightcap?”

“I’ll come in, but not for a drink. You and I need to have a chat.”

“And it cannot wait until tomorrow, I see,” he says mildly. “Then come in, Gabriel, and let’s talk. As it happens, I have some questions for you, too.”

I follow him into the guesthouse, wondering now if this was a bad idea.

“I have no tea to offer you, but I do have a wide choice of drinks,” he says, gesturing at the bar cart as he closes the door behind him. For a moment I wonder if he’s going to lock it, but I hear no telltale click.

And I’m not in the mood for his banter. “Why are you threatening GreenSpace?” I ask bluntly. “I already told you I would work with you on this stupid wedding, and GreenSpace has nothing to do with my work here, so?—”

“I have not been threatening GreenSpace,” he says. “Are you sure you won’t take that drink?”

“I don’t want a drink, I want you to tell me what the hell you’re doing, sending men in there to threaten Yvonne, starting a fire at the Chinese restaurant.”

Nero, maddeningly, doesn’t respond. He merely heads to the bar cart, where he pours himself something strong.

“If you don’t answer me, I really will go to Julian Castellani,” I say at last.

“Now who’s threatening?” He cuts me off as I open my mouth again. “I’m not behind the fire, if that’s what you’re accusing me of. The Bernardis seem to have been bolder recently, or maybe it was PacSyn, or maybe it was the Triads—or a million others. It doesn’t matter. I took care of the problem, and I’ve arranged for men to be watching over the neighborhood. There will be no further incidents tonight,” he assures me, taking a sip from his drink, “and tomorrow, I myself will track down the people who did this and remove them from consideration.”

I stand there with my mouth still open. “It really wasn’t you?” I say at last.

“Why did you think it was me?”

“Yvonne said someone came in and threatened her.”

“Someone threatened her?” he repeats sharply.

“Yeah. She assumed they were sent by you—or at least, the Castellanis, since that’s exactly what you did just a few days ago.”

He stares into his drink. “I suppose you make a good point,” he says at last. “But it wasn’t us.”

I should feel relieved, I suppose, that Nero Andretti isn’t actually stalking me at my workplace. “But I think this is worse,” I say out loud. Nero meets my eyes and seems to read my mind, because he doesn’t ask me to clarify. “Look,” I say, “I need to make sure Yvonne’s okay. I need to make sure GreenSpace is okay. You have no idea how many people are depending on us.”

Nero strolls closer to me, watching me carefully. “As I said,” and his voice is soft, “you don’t need to worry about Yvonne or GreenSpace. I have taken care of the matter.”

“But you can’t have people there every night?—”

“Of course I can. And I will. The point of protection, Gabriel, is to give protection when it’s needed.” I want to point out that it’s just a shakedown, but Nero smiles. “You don’t believe me,” he says, before I can start arguing. “What would put your mind at ease, little gardener? Would my personal protection make you sleep better tonight?”

He’s very close to me now. I can see the caramel flecks in his dark eyes, as though he really were sweet under all that darkness. But I know better. I know his eyes, like his lips, are liars.

But I also need to ensure GreenSpace’s safety—and Yvonne’s. “Yvonne is a gentle soul,” I tell him slowly. “If anything happened to her—if she got caught in the crossfire of some stupid mob war—I would never forgive myself.”

“Then tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it.” He sets down his drink. One more step toward me, and he’s close enough that he could lean in and kiss me.

Don’t do it , the voice in the back of my head warns. You know what that kind of favor would cost. But GreenSpace is too valuable, too important to me, to risk letting it be disrupted—or worse, destroyed. “I want you to make absolutely sure that GreenSpace is protected. That Yvonne will not be bothered by anyone—not the Bernardis, not PacSyn, not even the Castellanis. I don’t want her to have to deal with any of it. Understand?”

“And what do you offer in return?”

Am I really going to do this? I guess I am.

“You seem pretty obsessed with me,” I tell him, raising my chin. “I’ll give you one night of my time.”

“One night? For ongoing protection of a business in the middle of a potential war zone?”

“Then however long you want,” I grit out.

Nero raises one eyebrow. “This GreenSpace is very important to you.” I give a reluctant nod. “Then show me how important. Get on your knees.”

The seconds tick by, and he holds my eyes. Eventually, I bend, and get down on my knees in front of him. He still says nothing. Doesn’t even move closer to me. “If you want me to blow you, get on with it,” I snap at last.

He laughs. “I just wanted to see if you would kneel for me, Gabriel. You can get up now.” Flushed, I stumble to my feet, and turn, intending to head for the door. But Nero grabs my arm. “Remember our lunch date tomorrow,” he says.

“How could I forget? And by the way, Ms. Rochford will be attending also.”

“What?” He sounds genuinely aghast. “Why did you invite her? ”

“It’s her wedding,” I point out. “And besides, I couldn’t say no. She turned up today and she was determined to see you again. I can’t say I share her fondness for you, but my orders are to keep her happy.”

“Orders?” He looks me up and down. “You almost sound like a Family man yourself, little gardener. And you’re very comfortable bargaining for protection. Why is that?”

I pull my arm out of his grip. “I grew up around men like you. I know how you work. I know the transactional nature of your relationships. And I know how best to use men like you.”

He stares at me for a hard moment, and I see fury warring with something else in his eyes – something I can’t decipher. “If you want my help, I will not require your body, but I will require your respect,” he says at last. “And I’d like to see you a little happier, Gabriel. Smile more. You can start now.”

“Smile?” I echo.

“Smile at me. Make me believe it.”

It’s my turn to stare. But I think he really means it. Eventually, I give him what I hope passes for a smile. I pull my lips up, tight but curved, and I see a slight sneer cross his face. “Not very believable,” he says, “but we’ll work on it. Now go.”

I get out of there before he has any further requests. I’ve gotten off lightly, and I don’t want to push my luck.

The next day, I’m jumpy all morning. It doesn’t help that Julian has pulled me into the redwood grove to discuss one of our projects there. Julian wants a memorial space designed around the carpet of wildflowers that grows here, to go with the plaque in memory of his mother that has already been affixed to one of the trees. But the grove is not one of my favorite places on the estate, and especially not visiting it with Julian Castellani. There’s something uncanny about the place, and Julian’s unblinking stare only makes things worse. Even the birds are quieter in there—not entirely silent, but hushed, as though they sense they need to make sure they don’t wake something dangerous.

And as lunch approaches, my anxiety only gets worse. I head back to my cottage to shower and change for lunch, although I’m not inclined to do so. But I know the reaction that Roxy will have if I don’t.

As it turns out, I needn’t have bothered. When I arrive, she isn’t there—though Nero is, looking as implacable and unreadable as ever. “Good afternoon,” is all he says, as though what happened between us last night was some fever dream.

I give him a nod, not quite trusting myself to speak. And then Elise comes out, and she looks so happy, so unlike how she’s been these last few weeks, that I can’t help staring. “Oh, Mr. Andretti!” she gasps, and then she gives a wide, beaming smile. “Darian told me what you did, and I just wanted to?—”

“It was nothing,” Nero says abruptly. “Nothing that Don Castellani wouldn’t have done himself if he’d thought of it.”

“I’m so grateful,” she says, and now her eyes are shining with tears.

“What did he do?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

Elise turns to me and gushes, “He found a way to make my sister accept the money she needed, that’s what he did! Made out like she’d won some lottery. Genius!” I look at Nero doubtfully, but Elise is now throwing her arms around him, making him widen his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Andretti!” she says again.

He extracts her from his neck and pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. “You are welcome—though I wish it had not become known,” he adds, with a smile that I think is his attempt to be modest.

“I’d better get on with my work,” Elise giggles, flushed and happy. “But I’ll never forget this, Mr. Andretti—you saved a life, you know that?”

“I am glad to have done it.”

Once she’s gone, I raise a questioning eyebrow. “Did you really do that?”

“I did.” He takes a seat, stretching out his long legs in front of him with a sigh, as though he wishes he were in his swimsuit rather than the pants he’s wearing. I bet Roxy will wish that too, when she arrives.

“Why?”

“Perhaps I am a philanthropist.”

I glance at the door to where Elise has disappeared. “You shouldn’t have done it,” I say in a low voice. “It’s not fair to fool people like that.”

Now he raises an eyebrow back at me. “You would have preferred I let a child suffer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Frustrated, I pull out the chair opposite him and sit. “I’m just saying, if this woman had already refused help from her own sister, it wasn’t your place to…” I shake my head. “What happens when she finds out?”

“She won’t.”

“She might . You can’t—you can’t solve problems just by throwing money at them.”

“Apparently I can.”

His smugness only riles me up even more, but at that moment, Roxanne Rochford arrives on the patio, and Nero leaps up as though the Queen of England just appeared. After their simpering greetings, Roxy turns to me. “We don’t need you today, Gavin.”

“Gabriel,” I say, struggling not to clench my teeth. “And I really think?—”

“No,” she says decisively. “I only need Nero today. This is a security discussion, and I have private information I need to share. My fiancé insisted—Nero’s ears only.”

I look at Nero, whose eyes, as usual, I can’t read.

“Enjoy your lunch,” I tell him, and give a slight smile when I see his lips tighten.

It’s only when I’m halfway back to my cottage to change again for work that it occurs to me: Roxy didn’t have a bodyguard with her today. She doesn’t seem to think she’ll need them if she’s around Nero.

Maybe she thinks Nero will protect her. Maybe she’s been fooled by his charm and his false charity.

Well, he won’t fool me.