The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

Santi

 

 

 

 

I spent Thanksgiving doing exactly two things.

One, was watching Avi to make sure he was handling his first real holiday—Halloween didn't count—without his mom.

In the past, Avi, Brit, and I always had quiet Thanksgivings at home. We had all the usual staples, but it had never been a big, loud, over-the-top affair like the Costa Family Thanksgiving was.

My mother had moved into Lorenzo's old lavish penthouse, a place with more than enough room for our party of assorted Family members. The ones of us who were core family members, sure, but also the guys like Brio and Salvatore who didn't have anywhere else to go.

It was a crowd of twelve, all in all, and something entirely new for Avi, so I was worried about how he would handle it.

From the looks of things, though, he was eating up the extra attention, was enjoying the guys letting him bet on the game, and playing cards.

Which left me with the other thing I did.

I thought about Alessa.

Like I'd been doing far too much since that morning I'd washed her hair.

I hadn't thought anything about it beforehand. It was a task that needed to get done, so she felt human again. I figured I could help her. That was all it was supposed to be.

But then she'd needed to drape over my lap. And it turned out she liked having her hair played with.

Then things, yeah, they got out of hand.

I should have controlled myself. She'd been gunned down, put through surgery, endured questioning from the Family as well as the cops. She needed rest and comfort. She didn't need me putting my hands on her and confusing shit.

But she'd made those noises.

And it had been so fucking long since I'd heard that, since I'd had a woman's pleasure in my hands.

I lost anything resembling control at that moment.

Which was why I spent the next few days after avoiding temptation. Meaning any time alone with Alessa. Which wasn't easy since she moved out of her bedroom in the morning, and planted herself on the couch.

Luckily, Salvatore and Brio took turns coming in and out to talk to her. Her brothers showed up. My mom. Her step-mom and old man. Then, of course, there was Avi and his single-minded determination to take care of Alessa.

It had been easier, yet harder, than I thought to stay away from her.

But even if I stayed at arm's length from her physically, my mind wandered to her constantly.

It was so bad that I was jealous of fucking Salvatore being able to treat her wounds. And Brio for hanging out with her on the couch, watching movies.

I was envious of my child for playing video games with her.

It was for the best. That was the only thing that kept me going. Because if we got close again, things would get physical. And that was when it would get messy. Because she worked for me. Because, eventually, the job would be done. Because I didn't want Avi to get confused or upset about seeing me with another woman.

It was too complicated.

But there was no stopping my mind from wandering.

As I hung out with my family, I found myself wondering what she might be up to, if she was taking it easy, or trying to do too much to prove to her family—especially her brothers—that she was okay, that it was no big deal that she'd gotten shot twice.

Sure, she was over the worst of it, but she clearly still struggled with certain movements. I didn't want her having long-term issues because she so desperately wanted to show her father and brothers that she was one of them, that she deserved their respect.

Someday, I wanted to pull her aside and tell her that, from what I could see, her brothers very much considered her a part of their family, that they thought she was smart and capable, that they cared a lot about her.

"What's on your mind, sweetie?" my mom asked, waving her neon green knife at me.

"How do you tell a woman that her family does love and respect her, and that it is her own insecurities from her childhood that makes her feel that they don't?" I asked.

"You know what I think?" my mom asked, giving me a keen glance. "I think perhaps that isn't the kind of thing you tell a woman. It's something you have to show her."

"How would you show someone that?" I asked, shaking my head.

"By showing her how much you respect and lo... care for her."

"I never said—"

"Santiago Michael Costa," my mother said, her brow quirking up. "Your mother might have been locked away for a nice chunk of her life, but she damn sure wasn't born yesterday. You think I didn't see those longing looks you kept giving that woman? The way you visibly jerked when she tried to move, and hissed in pain? The way you constantly gave Avi instructions on how to help take care of her?"

"Ma..."

"Don't even try to deny it. I know that look, Santi. What I don't know is why you are giving your son instructions on how to take care of her, when you clearly want to do it yourself."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because this isn't just about me, Mom."

"Avi? Avi is infatuated with that woman."

"As a friend."

"Friend, hm?" she asked. "Wasn't Alessa the first one he rushed over to after school to show off that test he'd aced? Wasn't it Alessa he called out to when he'd had a nightmare the other night? I'm pretty sure little boys don't do that with their friends."

"A caretaker, then."

"Look, I get it," my mom said, pouring diced onions, carrots, and celery into a greased pan. "You're worried about Ottavio thinking you're trying to replace his mom. And that is a valid concern. Especially because you never told him that you and Brit were separated and divorcing." There was a hint of censure in her voice, and with some distance from the situation, I did see her point. "But no one is saying you need to get on one knee and propose to the woman. Or even to show signs of physical affection in front of him for a while. You can still get to know each other around him, then have adult time when he goes to bed."

"Ma..." I said, shaking my head.

"I missed teasing you boys about dating and sex when you were younger. I'm making up for lost time," she told me, eyes dancing. "But that's beside the point. I don't see any reason why you two can't give it a shot, even if you very slowly ease Ottavio into it."

"She works for me."

"For now, yes. Not forever."

"If it went south quickly, I..."

"Could just go back to avoiding her?" she suggested. "Santi, you've been without someone for so long. You deserve some happiness. Why are you fighting this so hard?"

"Celeste," Salvatore said. "Have I thanked you for having me?" he asked, moving up to the island, dipping a tortilla chip in the spinach and artichoke dip.

"Not in the past five minutes," my mom said, giving him a motherly smile. She liked watching people enjoy her food. I guess it was a mom thing.

"Has your son admitted to you that he's got a thing for the kid's bodyguard yet?" Salvatore asked, making me wonder if anyone at all had been fooled. Did her brothers know? Her step-mother? Worse yet, her dad?

"We were just discussing that," my mom said, mixing the vegetables in the pan.

"Discussing what?" Lorenzo asked, coming up to grab a bottle of Scotch off the bar cart, pouring a fresh glass.

"Your brother and the kid's nanny," Salvatore announced, making me need to close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"Yeah, what's going on with that?" Lorenzo asked.

"He doesn't think it's good for Avi right now."

"Who says Avi has to know?" Lorenzo asked, shrugging.

"And I imagine he worries about the Family thing."

"The Morellis wouldn't have any issue with it," Lorenzo said.

"You can't know that," I shot back. "She has brothers."

"I don't think Alessa is the type of woman who would have her brother's whoop your ass if you hurt her," Salvatore said. "She can take care of herself."

That was fair too.

"It's not going to happen," I insisted. "So we don't need to talk about it."

"Just saying," Lorenzo said, grabbing my shoulder. "If it happens, it's fine. Don't worry about the Family shit."

"Look at that. You have your brother's approval," Celeste said. "So, if it happens, it happens. No big deal."

"It's not going to happen," I repeated.

But that didn't stop me from thinking of the possibilities as we sat down to dinner, as we all collapsed to the living room after, while Salvatore rolled up his sleeve and cleaned up, insisting he'd had a lot of practice while working in the prison kitchen.

It was after nine when Salvatore and Brio brought me and Avi home.

"She's not here yet," Avi said, looking disappointed when we walked into an empty house, the two of us waiting in the kitchen while Brio and Salvatore did a quick check of the apartment. "She's coming home, right?"

"I'm not sure, bud," I admitted, realizing for the first time that we hadn't discussed that. She was well again now. She didn't need medical assistance. It would make sense for her to just crash with her family for the night.

"She'll be back tomorrow though, right?"

"Of course she will," I told him, leaving off the fact that it was her job, that she had to be. I didn't want him thinking he was some sort of obligation. She called herself his friend, and I didn't want him thinking otherwise.

"Before school?"

"No school. Remember? Not until Monday. So, yeah, she will be here sometime around when you get up," I said, watching him let out a big yawn. "Why don't you go brush your teeth and head to bed?" I suggested. "You've had a long day," I added when he yawned again.

"Okay," he agreed. "'Night."

"'Night, bud," I said, nodding.

Not long after, Brio headed out, and Salvatore took up position outside the apartment door with Christopher. The two had a pretty competitive rummy competition going, a game Salvatore used to make time pass in prison. Except now he played for cash instead of bags of food or whatever else they traded on the inside.

With nothing else to do, I took a shower and got ready for bed myself too, resisting the urge to message Alessa, to ask her about her holiday. I could even do so with the excuse that Avi was asking when she would be coming back.

But I resisted.

Only because I put my phone on my nightstand and walked away from it as I went out to the kitchen to grab some of the pie my mother sent home with me because we hadn't had enough room to try all the ones she'd painstakingly slaved over.

I was just about to dollop some freezer whipped topping on the pie when the door opened, and in walked Alessa.

She froze a couple feet in the door, eyes landing on me. I wasn't imagining the way her gaze went hungry as she looked me over, standing there with my wet hair and in a pair of dark gray pajama pants. And nothing else.

"Hey," I said when her gaze went to my face again.

"Hey," she said, voice softer than usual as she stayed frozen in place.

"How was Thanksgiving?"

"Did you ever see The Hobbit movie where everyone bursts into the house and has this rowdy dinner scene? It was like that," she said, smirking a bit. "It's a miracle I managed to get any food at all, really," she added. "How was yours?"

"Quieter. Sort of. Had to remind Brio that kids Avi's age don't need to learn about pressure points. Salvatore broke my mom's whole-house remote tablet. My mom made enough food to feed an army. The fridge is stocked with leftovers."

"Is that pie?" she asked, taking a couple steps forward.

"Chocolate cream," I agreed, hearing the little moan she let out. "You want some?" I asked, dolloping the whipped topping on.

"Is that really a question?" she shot back, rolling her eyes at me.

There was more pie in the fridge.

I could have gotten her a slice on her own plate with her own fork.

But I didn't do any of that.

No.

I just took a bite while she put her clutch on the counter, and shrugged out of her coat, her gaze on me, then scooped up another forkful, and held it out to her.

Her eyelids went heavy as she looked from the fork to my face.

I could see the battle then.

I felt a similar one waging inside me.

The spiraling thoughts of all the ways it could go wrong, who would get hurt, what would happen in the aftermath, what our families would think, how it would impact the Family.

But for probably the first time ever, my thoughts were outweighed by the possibilities.

Like walking home from a long day of work to see Alessa and Avi poring over their take-out menu collection, trying to decide on what to order for dinner. And both of them turning to see me. Then walking over to ruffle my kid's hair, then press a kiss to Alessa's lips.

Like taking Avi out to the museum or the movies or the park, then coming home to tuck him in, then falling into bed together, lips and hands roaming, exploring until the wee hours of the night.

Like having holidays and birthdays together.

Like building something solid and lasting and, most of all, real with her. Not something that imitated a relationship to the outside. But an actual one, one that acted as a soft place to land, that was the support system that futures could be built upon.

I saw so much potential when I looked at Alessa.

Even if it was a terrible idea.

Even if it could go down in flames.

I couldn't shake this one thought, though.

What if it goes right?

What if it went right?

What if all the things I'd fantasized about could happen?

What if there could be something good between us?

What if there could be steady foundations and happiness and love and family?

What if it went right?

Gaze on me, Alessa's lips parted, and there was some base, primal desire inside as I slipped the fork into her mouth, as her lips closed around it, as there was some resistance as I pulled the fork back out.

My cock was getting hard from feeding the woman a piece of pie.

"OhmyGod," she murmured over her mouthful, letting out a little groan that wasn't helping the desire spreading through my system.

"Here," I said, voice lower than usual as I put the fork down, reaching out to catch a bit of whipped topping from the corner of her mouth with the pad of my thumb, taking it, and slipping it into my own mouth.

Her eyes went molten at that.

Fucking burning bright.

"Santi..." she said, voice barely audible, but there was undeniable need in that sound.

What if it went right?

I reached out again, my hands going behind her neck, working the tie out of her hair, then gently sifting her hair down and forward to frame her face. But not stopping there.

My fingers moved back up, sifting through the silky strands, then rubbing her scalp with barely-there pressure, watching her head tip back, her eyes going hazy with pleasure as her breathing got faster, more shallow.

Her eyelids drifted close for a moment, her dark lashes resting on her cheeks as she swayed a bit on her feet, lost in the moment, in her enjoyment, in the desire I knew was spreading through her body.

When her eyes opened once again, the raw need I saw there was a punch to my stomach, stealing my breath.

One of my hands slid out of her hair, slipped down her cheek, then framing her jaw, my thumb moving outward, tracing along the edge of her lower lip as it fell open slightly.

"What if it goes right?" I asked, voice a hushed whisper, knowing her mind was as twisted in knots as my own, wanting to float the question to her, see what she thought of it.

I had my answer not a heartbeat later as she went up on her tiptoes and sealed her lips to mine.