By Any Other Name (11 page)

"Ah, the Ice Princess."

Matty hesitated. "Does
everyone
call her that?"

Gavin shrugged. "If the shoe fits…"

"So she's what? Cold?"

"Yeah," he said. "Cold
and
coddled. She's unapproachable, mostly because Primo goes after anyone who dares to even get close to his princess. He's overprotective, but you know, rightfully so, I'd say. He definitely has reason to keep her on lockdown."

"Does he ever let her out of his sight?"

"Rarely." Gavin continued to work in silence for a moment before swinging his chair around to face him, eyebrows raised questioningly. "Why are you asking me about Genevieve Galante?"

"No reason."

Gavin shook his head. "There's
always
a reason, so don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm just curious."

"About the Galante princess?"

"Yes."

Gavin stared at him peculiarly as if deciding whether or not to accept that answer. "Look, Matty, I'll tell you what someone told me once, a few years ago, when I got
curious
about a girl... don't plant your seeds in someone else's garden or you're liable to get buried six-feet under with fertilizer."

"Someone told you that?"

"I'm paraphrasing, but yeah, a friend out of the Chicago organization did."

"Chicago? You tried
planting your seed
in the DeMarco family?"

"Sort of. It's a long story, but I thought about it, when sometimes we just have no business even thinking it. Sometimes it just isn't a good idea. You don't go petting a poisonous snake, you know? No matter how pretty it might be."

"I'm not trying to pet anything. I'm just..."

"Curious. Got it." Gavin stared at him for another moment before turning back to his work. "I heard she's been working at a soup kitchen over in East Harlem, the one at the community center. Doing a stint of community service for some trouble she got into."

Community service
. "I bet they have the place guarded."

"You'd think, but no, she's pretty safe there on her own. Her brother lurks around sometimes when he's not otherwise occupied. You know, like when the family's busy in other boroughs, like in Brooklyn, like tonight..."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah." Gavin glanced at his watch. "Right about now, actually."

Matty stood up and started for the door. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. But Matty? You get caught petting something you shouldn't be, and you didn't hear any of this from me."

Monday night. Chili.
Again
.

"Do you serve the same thing every week?" Genna asked, lugging the big pot to the serving counter without nearly falling this time. Her apron, covering her dark skinny jeans and black fitted t-shirt, remained mostly white today, only a few specks of tomato sauce staining it.

"Usually," the coordinator said. "We serve what we can get, and well, the way the economy is, that's not much. People aren't banging down our doors with donations, nor is there a line of volunteers anxious to help."

She had noticed, her first week, that it was the same few people working every day. The others kept to themselves, not nearly as friendly as the coordinator. She had a sneaking suspicion they also weren't there from the kindness of their heart.

The night passed quickly as she ladled out the chili, filling the small Styrofoam cups nearly to the brim this time before plopping it on a tray and passing it down the line. People strode past to collect their dinner, some she recognized from the week before, a few even striking up friendly conversation as they went.

Her shift was winding down at a quarter till seven. She stared into the pot of chili, stirring the watery mixture, watching the beans and chunks of tomato swirling around. Sighing, she started scooping out the rest of it into cups when someone slowly approached, a throat clearing in front of her.

"Coming back for seconds?" she asked, glancing up with a smile on her face. The moment her eyes connected with his, the chili from the ladle in her hand turned over, completely missing the cup and splattering right down the front of her apron. Gasping, she jumped back, realizing what she had done, while dozens of eyes in the room turned toward her at the sound of the commotion.

She scarcely noticed, though, her gaze going back to meet 
his
.

Matty.

"Seconds," he said as he stared straight at her. "Because the first time around was so good, huh?"

Genna's blood ran cold. She had no idea what to say, not expecting to ever see him again. Her mind was a flurry of questions. What did he want? Why was he there? She just gaped at him, unable to find the words, as she stared into his bright eyes.

Ugh, why does he have to be so goddamn attractive?

"Miss Galante?" the coordinator called from across the room. "Everything okay?"

"Uh, yes, fine," she shouted, tearing her gaze from Matty. It didn't escape her notice that he visibly cringed at the sound of her last name. "Just had a little accident, but I've got it handled."

She quickly untied the apron and pulled it off, tossing it in the hamper off to the side. She did her best to ignore Matty's presence as she went to work cleaning up the mess, but she could feel his attention on her the entire time. It unnerved her on more than one level, her stomach fluttering while another sensation tried to drown it out.

Fear
.

A Barsanti was there, standing right in front of her, breathing her same air, and there was nothing she could do about it.

When she turned back around, the coordinator was approaching them.

"Are you going to help our guest?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he motioned toward Matty. "He's been waiting patiently."

"No," she said. "He's just leaving now."

She said it matter-of-fact, like if she believed it enough, maybe it would make it so, but Matty seemed to dig his heels in and push back. "Actually, I'm not going anywhere."

"But you have no business here," she said quickly. "This is a soup kitchen. People come here to eat."

"Maybe I'm hungry."

"Then go somewhere else."

Before he could bite back, the coordinator interjected. "That's no way to talk to one of our guests. We turn
nobody
away here."

"He can afford to buy his own food," she ground out. "Jesus, just look at him! He's wearing a Rolex."

"We don't judge people. Nor do we question their circumstances. He said he's hungry. Feed him.
Period
." The coordinator started to walk away but hesitated. "And Miss Galante? I expect you to apologize to him, too."

Once the coordinator was gone, she turned her focus to Matty again. Slowly, she dumped a small ladle of chili into a cup and slammed it down, breaking open the flimsy bottom, watery tomato sauce seeping out onto the tray. She shoved the tray down the line, her eyes not leaving his. "I apologize, Mr. Barsanti. I guess I forgot your kind likes to take advantage whenever possible. I assure you—I won't make that same mistake again."

He stared at her in silence for a moment, not seeming at all offended by her words. "Sounds like a Galante apology if I've ever heard one."

She glared at him as he moved away. A Galante apology? What was
that
supposed to mean?

Matty politely greeted the other servers, charming them, before snatching up his tray at the end of the line. He confidently strolled through the community center, making something as ordinary as walking look like an art form, and slipped into a chair at the end of a table, away from others.

Unbelievable
.

Seven o'clock. Genna strode away from the serving counter, her shift officially over, but instead of heading for the exit her feet instinctively veered straight toward him. She paused at the table in front of him, her hands on her hips, her expression stern. "What the hell do you want?"

He poked in his broken cup with the plastic spoon, not looking up as he answered. "I want some more meat in this chili. Geez, you kind of skimped on it, didn't you?" Instead of looking at her, he glanced down the table at some others eating. "Hey, is your chili kind of, uh… pitiful?"

"Yeah," a man agreed.

"Always is," someone grumbled.

"They should do something about that," Matty said.

"Yeah, well, beggars can't be choosers, so either eat it or get out," Genna growled. As soon as those words came out of her mouth, she realized how unsympathetic she sounded. Her gaze darted around at the others nearby, seeing a few scowling at her. "I, uh… I'm sorry. It's just that…"

"She didn't mean to sound like an insensitive bitch," Matty said casually, picking up a spoonful of chili and eyeing it with distaste. "It's just a family trait."

She leaned forward, her palms flat against the table as she glared at him. "You have a lot of fucking nerve coming here. How did you even know how to find me?"

His gaze slowly shifted from the food to her, a mere few inches of space between their faces. She stared at him, watching as his lips twitched. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed her, memories of the way his mouth felt sending chills down her spine, but she fought it back.

That could never happen again.

Never
.

"I have my ways," he said quietly. "You're not a hard person to track down. It was just a matter of finding the right moment. You know, when
they
were busy."

He didn't elaborate, or specify, but she knew he meant her family. She was in no hurry to get home tonight because her father was out of town and her brother was taking advantage of the old man's absence to hustle a bit down in Brooklyn, so there would be no family dinner. Nobody expecting her.

Her expression quickly melted from anger to dread as her stomach lurched. How could
he
know that?

"Like I said—I have my ways," he said, answering her unspoken question. "I knew they wouldn't come looking for you tonight, so it was my chance."

"You don't have the balls to hurt me," she said, her voice hard as she forced confidence in her words… although she scarcely believed them herself. This guy was the damn definition of dangerous, especially with the emotions he stirred up inside of her. She wanted to simultaneously punch him in the face and rip off his clothes, and she wasn't sure which part of her would ultimately win that battle.

"Oh, I have the balls," he replied, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Or have you forgotten? Because I haven't."

"You're so full of yourself." She felt the red-hot blood rush to her cheeks at the reminder. Um, yeah, she had been full of him, too... filled to the hilt, so much so she still felt the achy void from when he'd pulled out. "You weren't
that
great, you know."

"Judging by the way you screamed my name, I have to say you're lying."

His words were loud enough to draw attention to them. Groaning, Genna shot daggers at a few of the meddlesome eavesdroppers, embarrassed, as she yanked out the chair across from Matty to sit down. She leaned across the table, her voice low again so nobody else could hear. "This is
my
father's territory. You're supposed to stay on the other side of Central Park. You're not allowed to come over here."

Without responding, Matty reached across the table toward her. The moment his hand shot out, she scooted back, the chair legs screeching against the floor as she moved out of his reach, her heart thumping erratically. She swallowed thickly, trying to shove down the fear that movement elicited. His hand froze mid-air, lingering there for a moment, before he slowly dropped it back to the table. "You're afraid of me."

"You're one of them."

"I was one of them the day we met, but you weren't afraid then."

"You didn't know who I was," she replied. "You had no reason to hurt me then."

"I have no reason to hurt you now."

She scoffed. "Liar."

"How do you know I'm lying?"

"Your lips are moving."

"Look, this has nothing to do with my father's business," he said. "Whatever issues our fathers have… it has nothing to do with me."

"It has something to do with all of us," she argued.

"Why?"

She gaped at him. Why? How could he ask that question? "It's always been that way. Your family… your family is vicious!"

"Don't act like you Galantes are all roses," he replied. "You've got more thorns than you do petals, princess."

Princess
. The way he said it made her hair bristle. She stared at him as he turned back to his food, picking up the flimsy sandwich and tearing it apart to inspect it: two pieces of white bread, a slab of chopped ham and a slice of cheese, hard around the edges from exposure.

"If this isn't about business," she started, folding her arms across her chest, "then why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you," he said quietly.

"Well, here I am," I said. "See me? Good. Now what do you really want?"

His eyes drifted right back to her as he let go of the sandwich. Reaching across the table again, this time he moved slowly, deliberately. Genna sat still, her back as stiff as a board, her eyes fluttering as the back of his hand grazed against her flushed cheek, sending tingles dancing across her skin. He brushed aside some wayward hair that fell from the Yankee's cap and tucked it behind her ear. "Is it so hard to believe I
just
wanted to see you?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Well, it's true," he said, dropping his hand again. He turned back to his tray once more, grabbing his spoon and scooping up some of the chili. This time, instead of just staring at it, he shoved the spoonful in his mouth and started chewing. Genna cringed, watching as his face contorted with disgust, but he choked it down and took another bite. "Who made this crap?"

"Me," she said, watching him with surprise. "I can't believe you're actually eating it."

"That's what it's for, isn't it? It would be a dick move to take food and not eat it."

"Well… nobody would blame you," she said, watching as he took yet another bite. "Family trait and all."

He cut his eyes at her, smirking when she threw his insult right back at him. Genna sat there, watching in awe as he ate every bite of food on his tray, forcing it down without gagging, as if he were trying to prove some point to her. He opened the milk and chugged it before crushing the empty carton with one hand. "I need a drink."

"They'll give you another milk."

"Not milk."

"There's a water fountain on the other side of the room."