The Vengeful Groom

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She froze. “Your…mother?” she repeated stupidly.

He dipped his head to the wet peaks and lapped at them like a satisfied cat, watching them jerk spasmodically. “Mmm. I…went to…her house…” he said slowly, then cleared his throat. “She’s not there.” His lashes flicked up suddenly, seeing the alarm in her enormous blue eyes.

“No, she left,” she said, hardly recognizing her own voice in the thick labored sounds.

His expression became cynical. “So I gather from the old lady who lives there now. Mother left years ago. Nice for me to know.”

Tina met his cold bleak eyes and felt a great sadness that he’d lost touch with his mother. And even sadder at the cause. “You knew she’d disowned you,” she said quietly.

There was a quick glitter in the dead eyes. “Yes. However, I did at least expect to be kept informed of her address,” he said harshly. “The old lady didn’t have it, but your grandfather will. He and my father were good friends. That’s why I came to see him. Since he’s away, you’re going to tell me—or find out pretty damn quick.”

His eyes glittered with a metallic light that scared her. Slowly he pulled her defenseless body to a sitting position, holding her fast. His high Slavic cheekbones looked more pronounced than usual. The brooding intensity he’d inherited from his Polish father had never been more apparent. He had his father’s fiery temper, his mother’s sense of Sicilian justice. And that meant trouble, she thought, wary of Giovanni’s explosive nature.

He’d gotten into a rage with Beth when she’d refused both his advances and his plea for her father’s assistance in financing a place at Harvard. In a blind fury, he’d jammed his foot on the accelerator and driven straight into Sue’s car. He’d sworn Beth had been driving, even though there were enough eyewitnesses to call him a liar. And she had been one of them. His anger had awed them all.

Tina trembled, her gaze colliding with his. Time, apparently hadn’t lessened his sense of betrayal. It had deepened it. Transfixed by his cold stare, she swallowed, trying to get rid of the awful lump blocking her throat.

Mustering up courage and contempt, she said, “I refuse to be threatened. Is that what this is all about? You’re trying to find your mother?”

“Why else would I come over from Sicily?” he replied huskily, a raw emotion in his tone that made her eyes glisten with sad tears.

Sicily! He must have gone there when he’d left jail, back to his mother’s family, the country where he’d been born, to lick his wounds. Praying he’d go right back, she said unevenly, “I’m sorry. You’ve had a wasted journey. I understand she’s gone away.”

“Where?” he demanded urgently.

Defiantly, holding back her sorrow, she lifted her chin. “Why would I know?”

“Why, indeed.” He released her, his face stark with disappointment.

“Gio,” she mumbled compassionately.

He pulled her to her feet and stepped back, opening the apartment door. “You were going to the café,” he said noncommittally.

Half blinded by tears, she nodded and stepped out into the brilliant sunshine. Giovanni strode toward his car, and with every stride she felt her heart tearing, strand by strand, till it seemed there was nothing left, no heavy beat, only the stillness of the aftermath of a storm.

She’d done it. He was leaving and— Oh, God! she groaned. She needed to be alone, to walk, to swim… Any physical exercise would do to take her mind from Giovanni and the dark days that had returned to haunt her.

Without another thought in her head, she ran to the café, her mind still on hold. But standing at the counter, staring at the menu on the blackboard, she felt that she didn’t want to eat at all because she felt so chewed up inside.

“Teen, Teen! You okay?”

“Oh, yes. Dreaming,” she said hastily, seeing Teresa Silva’s concerned eyes on her. “Nightmares. College placements,” she explained with a roll of her eyes to the ceiling. “Gruesome workload.”

“You work too hard. Take a break today—it’s going to be a scorcher. Manuel’s going crazy, keeping everything fresh for the weddings today.” She smiled, as she always did when she spoke of her son, and Tina smiled back.

“I thought he’d be busy with the catering,” Tina said. “Grandpa’s left endless lists for our part-timers so that the limos are polished to exhaustion.”

“We’re all glad of the business.” Teresa grinned. “What’ll you have? The tuna melt’s good, or I can do you a gilded lily…”

“Oh, tuna melt and pineapple muffins to go. And I’ll pick out some fruit,” Tina answered, trying to sound cheerful. Trying to be cheerful.

Yet once outside the diner, the tears began to fall again onto the back of her hand, and she knuckled her eyes irritably when she heard the door open behind her and someone came out.

“Teen, something is wrong,” came Teresa’s gentle voice in her ear. “Is it Adriana? Is she getting too much for you, what with your job and everything?”

“No.” She sniffed. “I can manage. You know I love her.”

“It can’t be easy. I suppose you couldn’t afford more help?”