But he couldn’t sleep. Pez’s words replayed in his head, and Sheldon’s last words to him did, too. Fuck. He was twenty-eight fucking years old and, despite his best efforts, his family was still screwing with him.
He briefly reviewed the Florida option, but the truth was he hated Florida. It was too hot, and these days too damned crowded with the older set to be any fun. Plus, he would miss his club and his friends. And though he didn’t want to admit it, he’d miss a certain golden-haired goddess who claimed too many of his thoughts recently.
Saks picked up his phone and briefly considered calling his cousin Luigi, who went by the name of Louis. His finger hovered over the contact information in his phone as he debated if it was too late to call him. A cramp hit him then and his finger struck the face of the phone. But it wasn’t Anglotti’s number he called. Chrissy’s name displayed at the top of the phone, and he swore. He moved his finger to disconnect, but he wasn’t fast enough.
“Hello,” an out of breath Chrissy greeted. He wondered what that was about, but he wasn’t going to hang up now.
“Um, hi. How are you doing?”
“You call me after midnight to ask how I’m doing?”
“Excuse me. I thought I’d apologize for getting all handsy, but I can see it was a wasted call.”
“Sorry, Saks. It’s been a rough night.”
“Yeah, I know something about that. And I’m sorry for my part in it.”
“We’re both pretty sorry, aren’t we?”
“I guess.”
“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly. “I didn’t mean to—to do that.”
“Fine,” he said, ignoring the throbbing in his balls.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“What? Clipping me in the family jewels? Nah. There’s only one way you can hurt me.”
She hesitated. “How’s that?”
“If you turn me down for dinner tomorrow night.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You did WHAT?”
She’d never seen such displeasure on her father’s face.
She and Gloria had been called to her father’s house in the middle of the night, supposedly after Marcus gave his report. Chrissy was absolutely miserable. But she refused to bend under the weight of her father’s disapproving stare. The whole plan to marry her off to a Rocco man was crazy. She leveled her chin and looked straight into her father’s eyes.
“She didn’t know,” Gloria said.
Chrissy had no idea what Gloria meant. “Look, I’m sorry I disappointed you. But—”
“No buts, young lady,” her father said sternly. He scoffed. “Now we have to offer apologies to the Roccos. Who knows if this whole thing is blown to hell. We’ll be lucky if we don’t go to war.”
“Papa, I hardly think—”
“I told you to be quiet!” he snapped.
“Papa,” Gloria said, “she really didn’t know.”
Vincenzo Serafina glared at Gloria. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, Papa” Gloria started, obviously tongue-tied, “you see, Chrissy arrived after Marcus and I did, and when I didn’t see her car I told Marcus to wait outside for her—”
“Get to the point!” their father rumbled ominously.
“When Chrissy came in, they had a fight in the bar—”
“Minga!” Vincenzo erupted, “What fight? Who?!” He glared at Marcus, who shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
“I’m sorry, Mr. S, but he was bothering Chrissy.”
“He was arguing with Chrissy after she slapped him,” Gloria added unhelpfully.
“WHAT!” their father roared. A string of Italian invectives fell from his mouth. “Why, by all that’s holy, did you strike the man? How does that look in front of the Roccos?” Now his gaze turned to Chrissy, full of the fires of hell, and Chrissy knew that she was not going to come out of this conversation unscathed.
“He was being awful to her, Papa,” Gloria pleaded, “saying hateful things.”
“Stay out of this,” Chrissy hissed. She was a smart woman, but she was becoming increasingly confused. She didn’t understand why her father was upset she’d struck Saks. What did that have to do with the whole issue? Was he all that concerned with appearances in front of the Roccos? Perhaps so. It wasn’t ladylike to strike a man, even if he was too damn cocky for his own good.
And then the memory of Saks fingering her in the back room caused a blush to creep up her face. No. She wasn’t ladylike at all.
She shook her head. She’d grown past ancient familial expectations for her behavior. No. She agreed to go along with the crazy charade for Gloria’s sake.
“Papa, why are you so upset? Look, I didn’t mean to knee him in the balls. It wasn’t my most graceful moment—”
Her father grew red in the face. “Maronna mia!” he spouted, and then rattled off so many words in Italian she couldn’t follow him.
“Papa,” Gloria implored. “Please calm down. Remember your heart.”
“Heart?” Chrissy asked. “What about Papa’s heart?”