Madison
The knock on the door nearly made her jump out of her skin, as if she wasn’t nervous enough. Madison was equally pissed and excited at the same time. At least Valentina would be there. She’d been concentrating so hard on her makeup that the knock scared her half to death. Her hair brush hit the floor and she cursed. It was pure luck that she was already done lining her eyes or there would have been a black mark halfway across her face, or worse yet, she’d be missing an eyeball. Giving one last look into the full-length mirror, she grabbed her purse and hurried down the stairs.
By the time she’d reached the main floor, her guest had switched to the doorbell.
“Coming.” Madison slid across the linoleum floor in her tights, her leather boots in one hand. Flinging open the door, she came face to face with a frowning Arlo.
“Hello.” She’d hoped Roman would be the one standing before her, but she kept the disappointment out of her voice. “Arlo.” Obviously he didn’t care enough to pick her up himself. One boot slipped through her fingers and landed with a loud thump.
“Something came up that Romeo had to handle himself.”
Madison shrugged off the Romeo reference and motioned for Arlo to come in. She sat on the vintage ottoman by the coffee table to slip on her knee-high boots.
Displeasure was all over his face as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.
“Is something wrong?” she clipped, annoyed Roman didn’t have the decency to pick her up himself. She zipped up one boot and now struggled with the other.
“You should never open the door without first checking to see who it is.” He scolded her like she was a twelve-year-old.
“It’s a small town.” She dismissed his advice with a zip of the last boot. “Hardly anything ever happens here.”
“Is that so?” The guy was so big he filled the entire doorway. “Wasn’t it just a short time ago that we had to save you from the bastard who kidnapped you. He would have killed you.” Arlo’s voice rose uncharacteristically.
She’d tried to forget that horrible experience. But it did little to simmer her anger.
“I’m fine. Thank you for your brutish words of wisdom.”
“There’s nothing brutish about it. As Romeo’s woman, you will be a target and you can’t ever forget it.” He pointed a thick finger at her for emphasis.
Madison rose to attention. “What did you just say?” Her voice was low and menacing, shocking herself as well as Arlo. His woman? “Thank you for the advice,” she added with sarcasm. Her teeth clenched. “But I am not Roman’s woman.” Arlo could refer to him as Romeo, but she never would.
Arlo laughed and held her coat for her. “What Roman wants, Roman gets.”
“Well, what Madison wants, Madison gets and what Madison wants is a venue for her show.” Her words were venomous. “And that’s the only reason I am dining with the devil.” She really didn’t consider Roman the devil, but right now she was pissed.
Arlo just smiled, ignoring everything she said.
“Besides Valentina, their mother is great at event planning.” He guided her out the door and toward the car.
“Really.” Her words held no true interest until it struck her. She never thought of Roman as having a mother. He was larger than life at times, feared, respected. It was hard to imagine him as a toddler dragging a teddy bear around and referring to someone as Mom. It was more like he’d been plopped down on the earth by some monster temptress intent on causing turmoil and chaos on her emotions.
“So both of his parents are alive?”
“Yes, very much so.” He waited until she buckled her seat belt before closing the car door. “I’m sure you will meet them soon enough,” he added when he got in and started the engine.
“I doubt it.” The vehicle rocketed out onto the vacant street.
“I don’t,” he quipped back.
She rolled her eyes. The man seemed too sure of that fact.
It was just a short drive to Roman’s and they were there before she knew it.
“I’ve been with Roman since we were kids. You’re the first woman he’s ever cooked for.”
Arlo waved to the guard in the shack and the estate gates groaned as they opened. He raised a congenial hand to the man who patrolled the front entrance of the estate. “Us guys, yeah, but never for a woman,” he continued. “Well, besides Valentina. Never,” he stressed again as he pulled up front and put the car in park. “I guess that makes you special or something.”
‘Or something’ is right. She pondered that one, but not for long, as Arlo had already come around and opened her door. Madison shaded her forehead against the glare of the outside lights. “Wow, they’re bright.”
“We like to see when people are coming.” He motioned to the neighboring homes. “Notice the difference. Our lights are brighter, the shrubs shorter, and nothing to hide behind close to the house. We also have motion detectors, dogs, and lots of cameras.”
“What are you all so scared of?” She frowned.
“Absolutely nothing.” He chuckled.
Not bothering to knock, Arlo rang the doorbell and then waved at an overhead camera. The door immediately unlocked and she was ushered in.
“Relax. We also have bulletproof doors and windows. Nothing can get you from outside these walls.”
It wasn’t what was outside the walls that she was concerned about. Roman’s deep voice rumbled in the distance.
“Follow me.” Arlo took her coat and led the way. Roman’s home appeared even larger at night.
“You need to supply maps to the guests or a GPS.” Madison’s flippant words didn’t appear to bother Arlo. She’d only seen part of the house this morning. Each visit gave her bits and pieces of how really big it was.
The same warm tones that were in the other areas, she’d seen continued throughout. A mammoth-sized dining table filled one room. She could almost hear the laughter and clicking of silverware that would go on in a place this big during Thanksgiving or Easter dinners.
“Is Valentina here yet?” Her nerves kicked into gear. Having another female around would help her to calm down and ease the chip off her shoulder for having to stoop to dinner with the mafia prince.
“No. She’s not coming.”
“What?” She halted. “Did Roman put you up to this?” Madison jabbed a finger at the enormous man’s chest. Roman had no morals. Why would she think he wouldn’t say anything to get what he wanted? What a fool she’d been.
“No, she’s ill. She probably needs a doctor.”
Madison apologized and placed her hand over her heart.
“I hope it isn’t anything serious?” Despite the family tree, she really was fond of Valentina.
“Like everyone in the family, the girl is an overachiever. She’s been studying for the Bar exam.” Madison shook her head and gasped.
“Bar? As in law school?” She really felt out of place being around this family of killers and overachieving lawyers. Valentina was going to be a lawyer and had an event center to run. Madison still ran her mother’s small town bridal shop while its owner spent most of the year down south or wherever her latest whim had taken her. She’d never resented her mother’s extravagant lifestyle until now. Madison was thirty and what did she have to show for it? Nothing.
“Yes, she’s always loved school.”
“That is definitely ambitious. How’s she going to be a lawyer and run Firenza at the same time?”
“She’ll only have one client.”
They’d stopped in the dining room as Roman’s conversation, in Italian, resonated in the background. Arlo obviously didn’t want to disturb him yet.
“One client? That hardly seems worth it to go through all that work for only one client.” Madison knew the answer to the question before she’d finished asking it.
“She will be legal counsel for the Caponelli family.” Arlo confirmed her suspicions. It made perfect sense, in fact, to a fault. With the various legal and illegal parts to their businesses, they would want someone they trusted to handle the details.
From the expression on Arlo’s face, it appeared that it was now safe to enter the kitchen. “You may go in and make yourself comfortable. He shouldn’t be much longer.” With a slight nod of his head, he added, “Enjoy your evening.”
On shaky legs, she entered the home’s well-lit kitchen. Roman stood with his back to her, his attention on the call and the view outside the window. There were bright lights in the front yard as well. It was hard not to be affected by his presence, and she hated herself for it. He was so bad for her, yet he was impossible to resist. His words in Italian almost sounded like erotic poetry. If he whispered sweet nothings in her ear in that language, there was a good chance she’d melt like an ice cream sundae in August. Madison knew she would have to be careful. He was too tempting.
She admired Roman’s long legs in the jeans he wore. How could something so commonplace be so extravagantly appealing? Apparently, he did own something other than finely tailored suits. Of course, the jeans fit to perfection as well. She licked her lips. Uncomfortably warm, Madison forced her gaze to travel upward from his firm behind to his wide shoulders. An ivory sweater that stretched with the strain of his muscles completed his outfit. It looked soft and cozy. The kind of thing a girl would want to rest her head on as she watched a late night movie and ate popcorn.
Madison frowned. It was no use trying to deny that the man fascinated her. He was the proverbial flame to her moth. His nearness threatened to burn her if she got too close. Already her cheeks were hot and her focus again fell to his firm butt. A moan escaped her lips. Heat flushed her chest and he turned to face her. He’d caught her staring. Roman grinned and winked when he locked eyes with hers. She failed to notice he was no longer on the phone.
“Welcome.” Roman approached, his arms open. Madison stiffened for a hug but instead he leaned in, placed his hands on her upper arms, and dropped a gentle kiss to both her cheeks, sending a tingle that made goosebumps rise on her skin.
“Hello.” Madison forced herself to loosen up. She stepped back, not wanting the heat of his body so close.
“Dinner will be ready soon.” Roman’s eyes captured hers. In the depths of them, he seemed a mischievous little boy and happy to have her there.
“Thank you.” Madison didn’t know what else to say now that she was here in his kitchen. Naturally, it was just as impressive as the rest of the house. Everything was shiny and clean which made it appear to have been recently remodeled from ceiling to floor. Intricate tiles gave it a Mediterranean feel. Again there were flashes of burgundy and dark woods here and there. Madison took the liberty to stride around the huge space.
Plants sat near the window. No, make that small spice filled crocks. It must be wonderful to be able to walk over and snip off a sprig of basil or parsley whenever one needed it. Madison had never been much of a cook, but having all the tools of the trade nearby was definitely appealing. Except for the commercial size stove, no stainless steel appliances were in sight. Every piece of domestic equipment was framed with matching woodwork.
A large pot bubbled and hissed on a wrought iron grate atop the stove.
“Smells delicious.” Madison walked over to peek inside. It appeared to be spaghetti and the large faucet over the stove had probably been recently used to fill it. One of those would be nice in her home. Of course, cooking pasta for one would probably not make it worthwhile.
“Bolognese,” Roman announced, coming closer to Madison.
The meaty tomato mixture filled her senses with the tangy aroma of basil, oregano, and peppers. Her mouth watered and her stomach groaned. The slight sting of garlic tickled her eyes as she hovered over the pots. Hints of fresh baked garlic bread lingered in the air too.
It was easy to picture herself in Italy as some Italian opera played in the background. The kitchen’s décor, the ethnic foods, and the chef speaking in his native tongue all came together for an amazing break from the stress of the day. Madison leaned against the corner and returned her attention to Roman. She’d had no idea what he was talking about on the phone, but it sounded just as delicious as the meal simmering on the stove. It was amazing that he spoke so fluently, yet had no accent of any kind.
He glanced her way and smiled. “I’m glad you came.”
She’d been caught admiring him again. The whole situation was awkward. Madison grabbed a spoon to stir the sauce. Whether or not it needed it, she had to keep her quivering hands busy and it felt like she was helping. Soon the fragrance of the food was blended with a piney whiff from his cologne. Roman was close, too close. He stood behind her. It was too intimate and bordered on romantic. Madison slipped out from in front of him.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asked, her voice pitched high and awkward.
This situation was more difficult than she could have imagined. Roman was too tempting, too attractive and she was standing in his kitchen feeling like a nervous sheep in front of a large wolf.
“Just keep stirring the sauce.” Covering her hand in his, he skimmed the foam off the top of the simmering tomato sauce and poured it into a nearby bowl.
“Why are you doing that?” She stared at both of their hands bonded together, the tingles making her lightheaded.
“It gets rid of the acid in the sauce.”
“Oh, I think I can handle this. You probably have something else to tend to.”
He chuckled and finally released her hand.
“I will slice the bread then.” Roman didn’t move away, though. Instead, he lightly pushed her hair from in front of her shoulder to the back. Taking her gaze off the bubbling pot, she glanced up into his eyes. His stare wasn’t deadly like his reputation. It was intense, passionate, and intoxicating.
A timer sounded. Madison jumped and clutched her hands to her chest.
“The bread is done.” His lip curled into a breathtaking smile.
Roman used a padded mitt to remove a crusty loaf of garlic bread from the oven. Madison lightly touched her lips—an act both involuntary and wistful.
“I think we are ready to eat.” He steered her out of the kitchen and into a screened in porch overlooking the lake. Candlelight flickered from various sconces and candleholders scattered around the room. Bright lights out front spotlighted the lingering snow, while moonlight glistened off the ice of the lake. It must have been an amazing vista to sit here in the morning sipping coffee. The romantic feel of the room overwhelmed her and her breathing increased. The urge to flee was strong but she couldn’t move if she wanted to. She was in way over her head with this man. How easy it would be to fall for this dangerous guy. His kind efforts made it harder and harder to stay angry with him.
Madison had agreed to dinner but she hadn’t agreed to more, especially not with him. She had to be strong. For so long she’d arranged other couples’ weddings, but planning hers had crossed her mind more than she cared to admit since meeting Roman. He wasn’t the type of family man she had hoped for. Despite this, he was charming, smart, and charismatic.
“Is something wrong?” He poured red wine into her glass.
“No.” She took a big sip of liquid courage, while examining him over the rim of her glass.
Roman laughed and refilled her glass to the top when she set it down. “Are you sure? You didn’t even wait for the toast.”
“A toast?” Madison didn’t like the sound of that. “For what?”
“Salud. To new beginnings.” Roman tapped his glass against Madison’s. The pricey crystal pinged like a fine wind chime.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Immediately, her thoughts raced to analyzing things he had said.
“Valentina’s Firenza. Your new venue for your bridal event, of course.”
“Oh.…Thank you.” Was she the only one who was having a problem concentrating?
“Let’s eat.” Roman motioned toward the table and wandered over to pull a chair out for her.
After she was seated, he left and quickly returned with the fresh bread cut and spread on a platter. A twirl of steam rose from the center. The shiny plates reflected the light from the candles. A small dish of olive oil with grated cheese accompanied the hot slices.
“Here, try some while I get the rest.” He placed a generous piece on her plate.
“Do you need any help?” It was odd for her to be waited on. The urge to jump up and help was automatic.
“No, just eat,” Roman called from the other room. She gave in to temptation. The bread crushed with the first bite and flaky pieces tickled her tongue. It was just the way she liked it—crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. Her taste buds sang Italy’s national anthem and a moan of culinary pleasure hummed from her lips.
Madison was tearing apart the second piece with her fingers by the time Roman returned with two plates. Her eyes widened at the size of the portion on her plate. The meat-filled red sauce covered a generous amount of pasta. “I’m not sure I can eat all this.”
He raised his wine glass. “Mangia.” Roman settled into his seat and she touched her goblet to his. The click of glass again echoed in the room. “You had a long day. Enjoy.”
“How would you know?” Her spine stiffened.
“You were obviously upset when I saw you last.” His compassion unnerved her just as much as his strength.
“I had good reason to be. The man gave away my venue. Speaking of which, we are supposed to be talking about my event.” Madison took a sip of wine. “Valentina was supposed to be here.”
“Would you have come if it were any other reason than business?”
“No.” She’d said it, but did she really mean it?
Roman sat back in his chair. He wore a hurt expression briefly before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“Then I’m glad you had no choice but to use Firenza.”
The man was infuriating. Even with such an appealing dish in front of her, she suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.
Roman placed his fork on the table. “What’s wrong?”
“This.” She waved her hand in the air. “I shouldn’t have come.” Madison stood and Roman did also.
“I thought you were hungry?”
“I am and this looks delicious but I can’t do this.” She tossed her napkin on the table.
“Do what?”
“Valentina is not here. This was a business meeting. It was a mistake to come here. Please have her call me when she’s feeling better.” Madison strode toward the kitchen.
“Have dinner with me. Don’t let all this good food go to waste.” She heard a twinge in his voice. The man didn’t give up. Madison stopped short.
Her lips trembled. “I know how you work, Romeo Caponelli. You wine and dine women, they fall for you, and then you leave them by the curb with the trash.”
“Don’t call me that,” he scolded, and she knew she’d crossed a line. “Romeo was a weak man. He didn’t even have the decency to die a respectable death. Poison.” He swore. “His woman was braver than he with a dagger to the chest.” He slammed his fist against his sternum. “I don’t want that. Not from you.” He lowered his head and sighed. “Yes, in the past…that was Romeo, the boy. I’m now Roman, the man.”
“Well, I don’t need a man with a past.” Madison definitely didn’t need that.
“What do you want Madison?”
She wanted him, but she didn’t need what came with him.
“What I need is a man who is content with living and raising a family in a small town. Genoa is a safe place where people know their neighbors, but some people might think it is boring.”
“I don’t think anything like that about you, and I don’t think this town is boring. I am at the point in my life where I do want to settle down and raise a family. Genoa seems like a perfect place.”
“But the mafia and your past…” She wasn’t letting it go.
The tension in the air was thick enough to slice with the serrated bread knife he’d just used.
A few seconds hung in the air before he spoke. He calmed. “I’m sorry. Please sit down.” He gestured to the chair she’d vacated but Madison stood her ground.
“Okay, I can’t change who my family is and I’ve had girlfriends. Just as there have been men in your life, I’m sure. Don’t let the past hurt the future. Please, have dinner with me. It’s all that I ask.”
She nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. Why was she so emotional? This wasn’t like her. Madison swung around and did as he asked. Roman settled into his chair and picked up a fork.
“I had no idea that Valentina was sick. I apologize if you feel that you were deceived. It was not my intention.” Roman didn’t strike Madison as a man who apologized too often. “Maybe I should have suggested we do this another night, but I’m being sincere when I say I wanted to see you.”
Madison sat speechless, her mind still not made up.
“Please eat.” He waved his hand across the table. “I cooked this especially for you.”
She still didn’t move.
“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked.
Madison shook her head. Her chin fell to meet her chest.
“Eat.” It wasn’t a request.
She sniffled, angry with the threatening tears. This was so not her. Was it the man or her hormones that had her all out of sorts?
He took a sip of wine. “To me, control is everything,” he started. Madison’s face lifted at the turn of the conversation. She hated being in control all the time. How easy it would be to have someone else shoulder some of the reasonability.
“When you were kidnapped, I’d never felt so useless and vulnerable. The thought of something happening to you…” He shook his head and bit into a piece of bread. Why was he bringing that up? Madison battled with that nightmare every single day. In just a few hours, it had been mentioned twice—by Arlo and Roman.
“Don’t ever let your guard down again,” he warned, and then softened. “Promise me.” His eyes glared into hers.
“I promise.” Her lower lip trembled and she picked up her fork. Madison and Roman ate in silence. The only sounds in the room was of utensils clicking on the plates. The quiet was deafeningly loud.
She couldn’t take it any longer and finally spoke. “So why did you really come to Genoa? It had to be more than just opening a restaurant.”
“My father is getting older. Soon I will be taking over the business. I want to move the family into a more legitimate business.”
“That’s good to hear.” If only that were true. “So what are you thinking?”
Roman spoke up and had several good ideas, all of which made sense to her. Restaurants, jewelry stores, car dealerships. Although the bridal business had never been her choice to go into, she did excel at it. The chance to brainstorm for options to move his family toward more respectable areas was invigoration to say the least.
“What do you think I should do?” The question took her off balance. He was the one who demanded control, yet he was asking for her advice.
She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “Wineries. The state is becoming a big force in the wine industry.” Who didn’t enjoy wine?
“That’s a great idea. I will look into that.” Roman’s mouth was firm.
His quick acceptance of her suggestion caused her to puff her chest out and his gaze dropped briefly to her breasts. He took a drink of wine and seemed to study her over the glass.
“Was your dad Italian?” Roman asked out of the blue.
She shrugged her shoulder. “I don’t know. Why?”
“You just have a look about you, like there’s an olive tree in your ancestry.”
“I wouldn’t know. He died before I was born and my mother refuses to tell me anything about him.”
“What was his name?”
She plopped a piece of fresh mozzarella from the dish on the table into her mouth and closed her eyes in culinary pleasure. Madison loved cheese.
“You’re going to laugh,” she said.
“Why?” He rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, seemingly curious about what she had to say.
“It’s Smith. John Smith.” Her face reddened and her eyes lowered. “I know, it’s the most common name in the world.” It sounded lame even to her. It stung when she thought about the times she’d asked her mother for more information. Was her father some man her mother met, a one-night stand, or had he really died in an accident? It always nagged at Madison, but she couldn’t just fault her mother. No one had stopped Madison from doing her own search for the man. It was just easier to not know.