Gray was about at the end of his rope and losing hope as he handed his credit card to the cashier to pay for his new suit and shirt. He flinched when he saw the total and watched her swipe the card. It was his own fault, though. Knowing who he’d be dealing with, he should’ve packed both of the suits he had left.
Why did her anger remind him of how much she made him laugh? How much fun he’d had with her even in the midst of the chaos they survived? How far out of his humdrum shell she had dragged him and made him like it?
Gray wasn’t laughing when she ruined his suit, he was angry as hell, but he’d laughed about it in his hotel room when he undressed last night…until he glanced at the bed and acknowledged there would be no angry sex with a snarky, beautiful Italian girl.
Michaela Girabaldi was so much more than beautiful to him, though. She was the antithesis of everything he’d ever pictured himself wanting, but everything he needed. She was chaos—but the counterpoint to his OCD tendencies. She was loud—but the perfect distraction he couldn’t tune out to focus on his workaholic ways. She was fire—to balance out his attempt to stay cold and distanced from life. And finally she was color—to the gray world he’d been living in since Mona.
That is what he planned to tell her after he apologized when he made the Hail Mary pass to try and keep her in his life forever. But first, he had to get some insider information from a man who knew her better than anyone—her brother Dante—the only Girabaldi who would talk to him at the moment. He was meeting him in the hotel restaurant in an hour and couldn’t be late.
Grabbing the bag and his card from the cashier, Gray walked out into the mall corridor and hooked a right to head to the exit. He stopped when his eyes fixed on a fine jewelry store sign across the way. If he was going to propose, he needed a ring and it had to be Hail Mary worthy, he thought, as he strode over there. So what if his credit card was smoking—he needed all the ammunition he could get to win this battle.
An hour later, Gray ran into the restaurant and found Dante sitting at a table in the back corner, drumming his fingers on the table.
“Hey, man—I’m sorry I’m late,” Gray said sitting down, and putting his bag beside the chair.
“You were thirty seconds from saying that to this wall behind me,” Dante replied gruffly.
“I need your help. I’ve tried everything with your sister, but nothing is working. Throw a dog a bone and give me some ideas, please.” Gray added the please, because the look on his face said he’d leave if he got shitty, something he couldn’t afford.
“Why should I help you?” he asked in typical Italian Stallion fashion.
“Because I love your sister,” Gray said, holding his gaze. “She told me about your parents’ story—how it was love at first sight at mass on Sunday. That happened with me when I saw her in a coffee shop in DC.” Gray finally breathed when Dante’s face softened a little. “I told her that before, but I need to tell her again after I apologize—but she won’t listen to anything I have to say.” Gray’s shoulders slumped. “I’m missing something here, but don’t know what it is.”
Dante went silent and just stared at him until Gray squirmed in his seat. With an eye roll, he leaned his forearms on the table.
“What you’re missing is that the trouble you’re having is not unusual. Italian women expect a man to work hard for their affection, which is why I steer clear of them. Since you’ve been a stronzo and pissed her off, you’re going to have to work doubly hard.” Dante laughed, and one eyebrow raised as he leaned back to cross his arms over his chest. “Even if she forgives you, don’t expect her to forget. You will hear about your transgressions for the rest of your life, so think long and hard about what you’re doing. Sometimes the greatest gifts are unfulfilled wishes.”
“Not in my case. I really need your help, because I’m not leaving New Jersey without her,” Gray said, taking a long breath.
“You better buy a few more suits then, and you better ask my father before you take her anywhere,” Dante warned, then smiled. “Did Mickie tell you the story of what my father had to go through to get Mama to marry him? It might help you.”
“No, she just said it was love at first sight for them. Amore,” he replied, resting his forearms on the table too.
“She put him through so much hell, he almost gave up. He brought her flowers, took her on romantic picnics, went to mass every Sunday just to see her, because according to his family, he was not a spiritual kind of man before he met her.”
“So he just wooed her and went to church?” Gray asked, a little relieved because he could be romantic when he needed to be, and he wasn’t particularly spiritual either, but for her he would go to church too.
“Hell, no!” Dante’s shout of laughter made him tense up again. “Papa was a bad boy whose reputation preceded him in Ducktown. When Mama told him he had to ask her father to date her, he did. My grandpa told him there was no way in hell he’d give him permission as long as he was above ground, so they had to sneak around until he died. He waited ten years to marry her. That, my friend, is amore.”
“They were young—I’m thirty-six years old. I don’t have ten years to wait,” Gray said. “How can I speed up this process?”
“A grand gesture. Italian women love that shit. My father learned to play the guitar and wrote my mother a song, which he still sings to her today. She finally agreed to sneak around with him, behind her parent’s back.” Dante grinned, and his face flushed. “I’m the result, and the reason they got married.”
“I’m not that creative, and if I sing, that will be reason enough to kick me out.”
“If you want her, you need to get creative. That’s all I can tell you. Now, I’ve got to go meet with the prosecutor. The feds have agreed to drop the charges against me, if I deliver Blade to them and Mickie agrees to testify against him.”
“You know who Blade is?” he asked, as Dante stood.
“Yes, because that’s who checked Mickie out of the detention center to take her to Lazarro. His name is Derek Spencer, and he’s a high-level FBI agent who’s in bed with Zetas. He brokered the gun deal with Vinny, who represented the mob.”
Gray was stunned that they nailed him, but not surprised to find out it was him. He and Mona were bosom buddies, and Gray was always jealous. Until he found out from her the man was gay. That may or may not be true considering the source, but he stopped worrying about whether they were lovers after that. That was right before the takedown happened.
“You know him?” Dante asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I knew him—he’s not a friend. He and my ex-girlfriend were partners in crime I think, but he slipped the dragnet when she was arrested and is now head of the team I used to work for.”
“Not anymore—he’s in jail in DC awaiting his arraignment,” Dante said with a smug smile.
“That’s good to know. Mona just got out—”
“Mona Thomas?” Dante asked, cutting him off.
“Yes,” Gray replied, his eyebrows crashing together.
“That is just too damned funny. She’s the DOJ’s star witness against him and is in protective custody right now.” He shook his head and blew out a breath, then took a step to drop his hand on Gray’s shoulder. “Good luck with Michaela. You’re going to need it.”
With a quick squeeze, Dante left Gray with plenty to think about.