Page 43 of Bought By the Mafia

I rattled off the name. He got angrier when he heard it.

“Give me your phone.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Call them,” he said casually.

“Then what? It’s not as if they’ll listen because you’re my husband.”

“Wanna bet?”

I glanced at Allison, who was listening to the conversation with interest. Gio and I were already making a scene, and I didn’t want it to go any further, but I also didn’t want to ruin the strained relationship I had with one of my contractors. “Call them on your own phone,” I said.

“Fine.” He whipped it out, punched a few keys and put the phone on speaker. Unlike me when I call them and it rings until it almost cuts, Gio only got two rings before it was answered. “Morelli!” A man said on the other end, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nothing, Benny,” Gio replied. “I just have an issue with your employees.” Benny was not a name I’ve heard of before, but I had a suspicion he was above all the people I’ve been dealing with.

“Your new apartment block? Something wrong with it? I was sure I sent my best men over there.”

“No.” He mentioned the address of my store. Benny sounded like he didn’t recognize the name at first, but after a few clicks and typing noises he said, “That. I didn’t know you were investing in single stores.”

“Not me Benny, my wife.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “I didn’t know you had one. Is this recent? Uh, congratulations?”

“Thanks. Back to the issue. Sounds like your men are trying to stiff my wife. They refused to redo a mistake and asked her to pay double. Really, Benny, when has a Morelli ever paid twice for the same job?”

Benny chuckled again, nervously this time. “My people would never do that. It’s just,” there was typing, clicking and shuffling of papers in the background that gave the impression he was scrambling for an answer. “It’s just protocol, that is all.”

“Is stiffing your clients protocol Benny?”

Benny huffed. “Why would you say that? You wound me when you talk like that.”

“You know, there are a lot of other contractors in the city. Some eager and cheaper than you are.”

The line went quiet. I was sure it was dead until Benny cleared his throat and in the voice similar to that of a used care salesman he said, “And you would never go to them because we offer you — I mean you and your wife excellent service. I’m going to make sure this issue is rectified.”

“You better. And Benny?”

He went quiet again. “Yes,” he said after a few seconds.

“Send my wife better people next time,” Gio said before ending the call.

I was gobsmacked. “That’s it?”

“You can expect them to come to your store tomorrow. You might get a new team, though.”

“That’s even better. Thank you.”

“You shouldn’t let them roll you over,” he said, as if it was the easiest thing to call who I assume was the head of the company I had hired and make them bend to my will. Even Allison looked impressed. For the first time, I truly felt the privileges of being a Morelli and, I had to admit, it felt good.

We had dinner inside this time around, and Chef Pierre joined us at my behest. Not because I was afraid of third wheeling again, but because I thought it awkward for us to eat a meal he prepared while he stood staring. And because he was good company. He had lots of culinary tales, mostly of kitchen mishaps and food related accidents, but was quite a well-traveled man. He regaled us with tales from his travels in Asia and Europe and that one time he had to cook for a family that reunited after a decade at the fall of the Berlin wall. Even Allison, who never seem to tire of interjecting or taking the conversation into a story of her own, sat back enthralled. Gio also was a different man. He was listening, yes, but he kept his gaze on me the entire duration of our supper, to where it was becoming unnerving. He took part in the conversation, yes, but I was sure each time he spoke it was to either reply to something I said or ask me something. To anyone observing, it was normal behavior, but not to me. He was paying attention, and that is something he’s never done. By the time supper and wine—because Chef Pierre insisted on wine after supper—was done, my little tipsy self was happy that I would no longer be under Gio’s watchful gaze and instead retreat to the comfort of my room. But that was not to be.

“Where are you going?” Giovanni asked just as I was entering my room.

“To bed,” I said, yawning. Gio merely stood in the corridor, hands in his pocket, waiting for me to see my mistake. “Fuck.” I can’t believe I had forgotten that I would sleep with him while Allison was staying here. I don’t think I could handle being in the same room with him again. Alone. Last night was awkward. I doubt tonight would be different. At least last night I wasn’t feeling on edge and unbalanced. Tonight?

“What if Allison and I have a girls’ night in?” I said.

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