Page 10 of Mafia Heiress
“No, boss.”
Tom isn’t a talkative guy. I imagine he does well in the family. We drive through Brooklyn and end up in Bensonhurst. L & B Spumoni Garden is located on Avenue U, in the heart of what used to be a very Italian neighborhood. Times have changed, but the spumoni hasn’t.
“You’ve done your research again.” I shouldn’t be surprised, but he’s managed to make my eyebrows raise twice in one week.
“Everyone loves L&B. I mean, where else are we going to get good spumoni?”
Tom opens the car door for us and we both walk out onto the sidewalk. There’s a line of people waiting to get their ice cream, and the restaurant inside is packed. The summer brings everyone out and together. I sigh at the good energy.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, turning to me and blocking everyone else out.
“How much I love the summer and Brooklyn. I mean there are definitely other places to get ice cream this late, but who is going to sell spumoni this good.”
“There’s no place like home, bella. And if you pick me we’ll never leave. New York is in my blood.”
“You were born over there though. You don’t miss it?” I ask, as we move to join the line.
The conversation is turning deeper than I thought Ciro was capable of. Speaking of life and the future wasn’t something I imagined him dreaming of.
“Not really. I do miss some family, but there’s nothing there anymore. It’s hard to have a life there, a comfortable one anyway. I didn’t want to live my parent’s life. They died poor. We couldn’t even bury them the right way.”
A pang of guilt hits me. I’ve always lived this lifestyle. My parents gave me and my brothers everything. I’m so separated from his previous life that I couldn’t imagine what it’s like.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking down at my flip-flops. I don’t know what else to say.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago, and I’m grateful you didn’t have to go through something like that.”
The change in his demeanor tonight really has me thinking of Ciro in a new way. He might be tough on the outside, but on the inside he’s a cream puff. Exactly how I like it.
* * *
“Jack,one of your boyfriends is here,” Frankie calls from the entryway.
I hear them mumbling as I make my way down the stairs in my brand new riding gear. Shopping is my therapy, and of course I had to take a visit to Manhattan Saddlery and get a cute outfit. It’s been too long since I’ve gone riding and I’m beyond excited.
“You look amazing, babe,” Marcello says, when I get to the last step.
“I thought we’d be riding English,” I remarked, checking him out. His usual button down and slacks are gone. He stands before me in jeans and a t-shirt with a cowboy hat and boots.
“You can ride whatever you want.” He gives me a wink and waits for me to walk out with him.
“I never thought I’d see a guy from Brooklyn wearing a cowboy hat and jeans.”
I laugh as he holds open the door of his Ford F150. A pickup truck that doesn’t match his personality either. It’s gorgeous inside, not that I’ve been in one before, but the interior looks more luxurious than I was expecting.
“I’m full of surprises. There’s nothing I don’t do. I’m a junkie for adrenaline and riding horses. Competing in bronch riding is my favorite, although I don’t do it anymore. It’s not as fun when you're older.”
He starts the truck and leads us onto the Brooklyn-Queens-Expressway. We’re quiet for a while, watching the city go by. From the Verrazano bridge everything looks so small and peaceful.
Boats glide through the water and when we get to Staten Island, goats hop on the tops of the remains of the army base. It’s weird to think that inside NYC there is wildlife that shouldn’t belong.
“Where are the stables?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Colts Neck. It’s another forty-five minutes, but trust me, it’s worth it. The ranch is beautiful. On a bunch of acres, old too. I’ve known the owner for most of my life. My ma sent me out here during the summers to visit my aunt. She got me a job there.”
“Makes sense now. Why don't you act like the rest of them. You’re more laid back and less…”
“Italian?”
