Making Her His (Beating the Biker 1)

“Gloria!” Vincenzo scolded.

This information landed on Chrissy with the explosive force of a mortar shell. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Her father waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing,” he said. “The doctors are just looking to make a quick buck.”

“No, they’re not!” Gloria said emphatically. “Look, Papa. Marcus will go talk to the Roccos, okay? And make it right.”

“Gloria,” Marcus said warningly.

“No, Marcus. Gloria’s right. You go to the Roccos and offer our apologies, and this time,” he said, glowering at Chrissy, shaking his finger at her, “you act like a proper lady. You will meet the Rocco man, and no violence. You got me?”

Chrissy swallowed hard. She didn’t know her father was sick and needed surgery. And she certainly wasn’t going to do anything to make him more upset, no matter how crazy his plans were. One thing was for sure: She and Gloria were going to have a serious talk about keeping secrets. “Okay, Papa. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Vincenzo Serafina walked from behind his desk to his eldest daughter, and patted her on the cheek. “That’s my good girl,” he said. “You’ll make it right.”

The French doors opened to the study, and Chrissy’s mother stood there in her bathrobe. “What is all this at this time of night?” she said sternly.

“Nothing, nothing,” Vincenzo soothed, walking toward his wife and waving her away. “Go back to bed.”

“You’re the one who needs to be in bed. Get back there now, or I’ll call the doctor and tell him you’re ig

noring his orders.”

Vincenzo grumbled but moved toward the door. He turned, though, and shook his finger at Chrissy, Gloria, and Marcus. “No more screw-ups.”

When their parents had left, Chrissy turned to Gloria. “How could you keep something like this from me!”

“I’ve barely seen you,” Gloria said defensively.

“In the past few months? Bullshit!”

“Papa didn’t want you to know. He was afraid you’d turn it into a reason not to get married. ‘Oh, my father’s sick and I just can’t bear to contemplate my own happiness.’”

“That’s horse shit.”

“That’s Papa.”

“How sick is he?”

“He’s supposed to stay in bed until the surgery.”

“Oh, fucking great.”

“What are you girls still doing here?” their mother asked. “It’s nearly midnight. Go home! You should be in your own beds.”

“Of course, Mama,” Gloria said. “We’re going now.”

Chrissy rolled her eyes but then gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry for waking you, Mama. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The three of them filed out of the house and to their cars.

“I’ll talk to you,” Chrissy said ominously to Gloria, “when you get home.”

Gloria flicked her hand at her. “You’ll be waiting then, because I’m spending the night at Marcus’. Ciao!” Gloria waved and slung herself into Marcus’s SUV, leaving Chrissy to stew about the night’s events.

As they pulled away, Chrissy thought uncharitably that it was a good thing that Gloria was getting out of her line of fire. Though she’d agreed to help her sister, these things went far beyond what Gloria should be doing. This entire family were idiots. So were her bosses. She wrenched her car door open and got in. Pulling onto the main road, she glared at the street in front of her. Everybody apparently seemed to know what was best for her, and yet no one would let her make up her own mind.

And what the hell about tonight? Gloria going on as if she knew something about Saks that Chrissy didn’t. Damn it!