What Happens In Miami... Page 16

  “You have no idea what I’m used to.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I stopped by Diablo and grabbed your favorites. After a bath we can get dirty and eat with our fingers.”

  That sounded delicious. “Come on up! The door’s unlocked.”

  Angel rushed back into her bathroom to wash the green paste off her face and gurgle with mouthwash, just in case. She came out to find him in the kitchen, unpacking the bags of takeout and sliding the containers into the refrigerator. He looked at ease in her home and familiar with her kitchen setup. It made her heart smile. How had it been only a week? She had lived in this apartment with Chris for months and it had never felt this good.

  Alessandro, though, did not look good. His striking face was marked with fatigue and his bronze complexion had gone ashen. She’d nearly forgotten their day had begun with such fantastic news. They should have gone out to dinner with his friends. They should have celebrated with champagne. Instead, his day had been jam-packed with unpleasant tasks: speeding her back to the mainland, waiting around while she endured an FBI interrogation, learning from Justine that his beloved niece had betrayed him, then having to confront this niece. That was a lot to pack into twenty-four hours.

  She went to him and touched his face. “How did it go?”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Understood.”

  He slid the last container into the refrigerator and swung the door shut with more force than necessary. “No... I want to talk about it.”

  “Okay.” Angel folded her arms across her chest, mainly to hold her towel in place. “I’m listening.”

  “She did it for the money.”

  That much Angel had figured out. But as far as get-rich-quick schemes went, this one was pretty elaborate. There had to be easier ways to make fast cash. However, her professional curiosity prevailed. “Who forged your grandfather’s work?”

  “She did.”

  His beloved niece was a mastermind forger, too? “Are you sure? That takes skill.”

  His broad shoulders drooped. “She’s a talented artist.”

  “I don’t get it. Why not just sell her own art then?”

  “I asked the same question,” he replied wearily. “She’s not interested in building a career over years and years and years. She wanted fast cash.”

  Angel winced. That description, minus the criminal element, was how she’d describe herself. She wasn’t interested in building a career over years. She’d given up because the struggling artist phase had dragged on for too long and too many people were waiting in the wings for her to fail. Alessandro, who hadn’t given up or sought fast cash, who’d worked as a bartender, waiter, janitor and who knows what to bankroll his dreams, was reaping the rewards.

  “She’s also a talented businesswoman,” he said. “Buyers are willing to pay good money for a famous actor’s grandfather’s secret paintings. She leaked the story and the waitlist got longer.”

  Angel was overcome with sadness. It was terrible that his niece thought nothing about using him that way.

  “The money was for my brother, Eddy. He’s in trouble and risks losing his house and his business. The paintings didn’t go for much. Fifty grand here. Forty grand there. It was enough to save my brother’s house from foreclosure.”

  “Oh...wow...”

  He looked down at his scuffed boots. “Yeah.”

  Angel waddled over and leaned heavily on him, even though her intention was to lend him support. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to give her the money.”

  “What? No!”

  “Yes.”

  She jerked away “You’re rewarding bad behavior! They could have just asked you for a loan, you know. Have you thought about that?”

  “You’d think so, but my brother didn’t want my dirty money.”

  Angel was confused. “Repping Rolex watches on the side isn’t exactly shameful.”

  “The money is dirty because I’m dirty. I’m the kid of some woman my dad picked up at a bar during Calle Ocho Festival, and I’m not deserving of success.”

  Angel’s skin prickled with revulsion. “She told you this to your face?”

  He raised his hands to his head and interlaced his fingers. “I knew they thought that way, but honest to God, Angel...”

  “Alessandro...” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. Your family—”

  “I don’t think I can call them my family, Angel,” he said. “They’re relatives, not family.”

  She did not know what to say to that. Rather than offer him empty words of consolation, she let the silence do its work. When the flash of pain had dimmed in his eyes, she took him by the hand. “Come,” she said. “Let’s get into that bath before it gets cold.”

  In the bathroom, Angel undressed him and dropped his clothes onto the vanity bench. He stepped into the tub with a splash. She eased in and got settled, her back to his chest. “Hope you like lavender.”

  “Love it.” His hands moved all over her body, roaming everywhere.

  Angel twisted around and sought his mouth. She kissed him again and again, deeper and deeper. In need of more, she swiveled onto her knees. Sudsy water splashed onto the pink floral tile. He yanked the headband off her head, tangled his fingers with her hair and pulled her to him. They kissed until it felt as if they were both sinking. Their wet bodies slipped and slid as water swirled around them. All she could hear was her own whimpering, the splash of water against tile, his drowned-out moans. Alessandro gripped her bottom and forced her still. “We have to get out,” he said, breathing fast. “I want you now.”

  Angel kissed him once again before pushing away and rising to her feet. She extended a hand to Alessandro, but his gaze poured over her dripping wet body. When he looked at her like that, she felt beautiful, desirable and bold.

  His eyes trailed after her as she stepped out of the tub. The bathmat was soaking wet under her feet. The cold air streaming through the A/C vent hardened her nipples. Angel met his gaze and did not reach for a towel. “When you collect yourself, you’ll know where to find me.”

  Twenty-Three

  “Let’s eat!” she said.

  Angel had set up a buffet on the coffee table. Sandro dropped down on the couch. He’d worked up a healthy appetite, but her greedy grin made him want to propose they do something else entirely. After all, they’d made good use of this couch before. He knew if he tried anything, Angel would stab him with a fork.

  She opened a cardboard container and gasped. “The mac and cheese! My favorite!”

  Her delight was pure. Grabbing dinner at Diablo had been a smart move. It would make what he had to do next so much easier. Maybe.

  “Angel, I have to leave in the morning.”

  “Back to paradise,” she teased, and handed him the carton of spicy meatballs.

  “Back to work.”

  His publicist had called again. FastFlix wanted him available for promotional work and Cameron demanded he make up lost ground from the “epic Emmys snub.” We need you out there, reminding the people why they love you. Any award could potentially be the last. He had to make the most of it. The nomination could raise his profile, his clout, his pay grade and anything else he could possibly raise.

  Angel was sitting very still, her fork loaded with mac and cheese suspended halfway between the paper plate on her lap and her lips. She’d piled her wavy hair on the top of her head and held the unruly mass together with a pair of clips. This left her long, slender neck exposed. But if he leaned over to kiss that spot below her ear, she would stab him for real this time.

  “I promised you more time...” Angel would not look at him. He pressed on. “The award nomination changes everything. I have to do a lot of press.”

  “The Golden Globes,” s
he mused. “An amazing opportunity.”

  Sandro hesitated before taking the plunge. “Would you come with me?”

  She set her plate on the coffee table as if the food were poisonous. “Where to?”

  He presented his itinerary as if it were the adventure of a lifetime. “Up the coast to New York City, then cross country to LA.”

  “No.”

  Her blunt answer wounded him.

  “I’m not asking you to move in with me,” he said defensively. “Only to hang out a while. We can spend the holidays together.”

  “My dad is celebrating his sixtieth birthday this Christmas,” she said. “Plus I have things to do here.”

  “What things? The gallery is closed,” he reminded her.

  “And they can lose my number,” she said. “I will never work for them again.”

  “What then? Orlando?” Did she want to go home? Was that it?

  “No,” she said. “I’ll stay here and sort myself out.”

  Sandro had lost his appetite. So long, spicy meatballs. “Angel, you don’t have to have your life all figured out. Not for my sake, anyway.”

  “Actually, I do.” Her voice was a tortured whisper.

  He’d wanted to protest, but the words died in his mouth. Who was he to lecture her? He’d avoided serious relationships all through his twenties for those same reasons. He’d wanted his career on track. It had taken a few hit movies and a variety of awards to get him to slow down enough to allow a woman like Angel into his life.

  “This is a good thing,” she said. “Do the press, the Globes, film your movie, all of it. Next time you’re in town, we’ll hang out.”

  She hadn’t yet finished her thought and Sandro was shaking his head. “How about you come up with another plan.”

  She crossed her legs. Her silky robe parted to reveal a flash of smooth brown thigh. Again he struggled to keep his hands to himself. As much as he wanted to touch her, he had to listen. This was important.

  “I’ve been thinking about this. We are no way near what you’re proposing.”

  Sandro grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth, but really just to do something with his hands. She’d been thinking about them spending time apart? This was news to him.

  “Will you fly out for the awards?” he asked. “You’re my date.”

  “No.” She held her ground. “That’s something a couple in a committed relationship would do, don’t you think?”

  If she needed him to commit, he’d commit, no problem. “Angel, I—”

  She grabbed his arm as if to prevent him from saying something rash. “None of this was supposed to matter. Remember? You were always meant to leave, and I was always meant to get on with my life.”

  Sandro got up to get a beer from the refrigerator. He needed to cool down. He found the bottle opener in the utensil draw and snapped off the cap of the Corona Light, the only beer she kept in stock. A strange feeling moved through him. He felt more at home at her rental apartment than at Fisher Island or LA. This was a feeling that had eluded him for years. He hadn’t had a home since JD’s death.

  He abandoned the beer bottle on the countertop and went to her. Hunching low before her, he anxiously slid his hands to her waist. He could lose her if he didn’t handle this right. “Querida—”

  “NO!” Angel smashed his face between her hands to silence him. “No Spanish! That’s not fair!”

  He peeled her hands away and kissed them. “Sorry. Didn’t know it had that kind of effect on you.” He made his feelings known in plain old English. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  Her eyes glazed with tears. “I don’t want you to lose me, either. I’m phenomenal.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “And so are you, but I can’t dream with you anymore, Alessandro. I’ve woken up to the truth.”

  “Angel... I know I hurt you and broke my promise.”

  We tell each other the things that matter.

  He’d had no business making such a promise, unfairly earning her trust, at a time when he was withholding so much from her.

  “It doesn’t matter any more.”

  “You’re giving up?”

  “I told you: we orbit around different suns.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything!”

  He could tell by the tilt of her head that there was nothing he could say to reach her.

  “Trust me,” she said. “It’s better this way.”

  Sandro brushed his lips to hers, wishing to God he could take away the pain he’d caused. When he pulled back, the taste of her tears was on his tongue. He didn’t say it, but he committed to her right then and there.

  The next morning, they woke up at six, as per her routine. Only this time Sandro didn’t protest. It was all arranged. He was flying out to New York City this evening to report at the NBC studios tomorrow at dawn. She agreed that it was better for him to leave before rush hour traffic made moving around the city difficult. He had to return Gus’s bike and stop by the restaurant to speak with Myles.

  Angel had made coffee and they talked quietly for a while. Then she walked him to the parking lot. The day was fresh. Neighbors on their way to work cast curious glances their way as they drove by, maybe finally recognizing the Hollywood actor that had been coming in and out of their apartment complex. Sandro was oblivious to all that. The breeze played with the palm trees that lined the asphalt lot. Little green lizards darted between the low-cut shrubs. The sprinklers stuttered and sprayed cool water. He hugged Angel tight and breathed in the familiar scent of her skin. He hadn’t shaved. She rubbed her cheek against his stubble.

  “Can we keep in touch?” he asked sheepishly.

  “We can,” she said. “Nothing forced though. Whatever feels good.”

  Sandro groaned. He hated her noncommittal tone.

  She tilted her head back and searched his face. “You’re going to be on a movie set for months. Have fun!”

  “Fun?” he said. “It’s work. What do you think I’m going to do? Hook up with extras in my trailer?”

  “If you’re going to hook up with anybody,” she said, “at the very least, make it your costar.”

  “It’s a fantasy thriller. My costars are a robot and a green screen.”

  “Some of those robots are really sexy!”

  “Will they laugh and cry at the same time, though?”

  She laughed and brushed back a tear. “Go!” she said. “Go and be amazing.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to be smart for a change.”

  “Will you remember me, your dumb mistake?”

  She gave him a smile as fresh as the day. “Always.”

  Myles greeted him with a bear hug. “Mr. Golden Globes!”

  Sandro had parked in the alley behind the restaurant and found Myles at the back door receiving a delivery of vegetables.

  “I’m heading back to LA,” Sandro said.

  “How long this time?”

  “I’ll be lucky if I get back before the spring. After the awards, I’m taking off to film in New Zealand.”

  “Damn.” The kitchen smelled like coffee. Myles poured him a cup. “I just got used to you coming around, disrupting my morning routine.”

  Sandro took his coffee to his usual seat at the prep counter. “I thought you liked peace and quiet.”

  “Nobody likes that much peace and quiet.”

  Myles heated up his favorite chocolate pastry and set it before him. “You don’t even have to beg this time.”

  “Thanks, man.” Sandro stirred sugar into his coffee and stared blindly into the cup.

  “You okay?” Myles asked.

  “I’m not okay,” Sandro admitted. “Angel is through with me. I’ve lost her.”

  Sandro pushed back his coffee cup, breaking into a cold
sweat. He’d lost his angel and had no one to blame but himself. He could not have messed up more spectacularly if he’d planned it.

  “I don’t buy it,” Myles said. “Anyway, you two were fast and furious. Maybe it’s a good idea to pump the brakes a little, slow it down.”

  Gigi had said something similar, except she’d used the words hot and heavy. She’d managed to spin Angel’s refusal to accompany him to the Golden Globes as a positive. “That’s a good thing! I’d be far more concerned if she wanted to jump into the limelight with you.”

  “That means you’ll have to jump into the limelight,” he said. “I need a date. Please don’t make me go with my publicist.”

  “You can count on me!” Gigi said. “Jumping into the limelight is my favorite sport.”

  Now Myles was looking at him with a goofy expression. Sandro lost his cool. “She said we orbit around different suns.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea!”

  “Astrology maybe?”

  Sandro glared at Myles.

  “Eat your pain chocolat,” Myles said. “You’ll feel better.”

  Sandro chomped down half of the pastry with one big bite. While he chewed, he observed his childhood friend. He looked okay, but he always looked okay. Something was off. “What’s going on with you?”

  Myles shrugged. “Same old.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Sandro said. “I come here all the time and complain my ass off. The least you can do is give me something. Family, sex life, the restaurant...” Myles shifted slightly, but Sandro caught it. “The restaurant! Bingo!”

  Myles circled the empty kitchen. Soon his prep staff would arrive and he would clam up. Sandro cut to the chase. “I risk losing man points by saying this, but here goes. I love you.”

  “Yo, man points are dead currency,” Myles said.

  “I’m being sincere,” Sandro said. “I want us to grow old together, meet twice a week on a park bench and catch up while our grandkids run around.”

  Sandro had lost his family on this trip. Maybe his relationship with Sabina could be salvaged. Maybe not. She was not the person he thought she was. They’d have to get reacquainted and start over from zero. He would leave it up to her. His relationships with his friends were a different story. Sandro was prepared to fight to preserve them.