By Any Other Name (16 page)

"Yes." He sighed, gazing down at the notebook, scribbling a few more things down before tearing out a page filled with names and numbers. "I spend my days doing mathematical statistics."

"So, you're kinda like a geeky gangster, then."

He laughed, grabbing her around the waist. She yelped as he pulled her down onto his lap. Leaning toward her, he kissed the exposed skin of her chest near the peak of her breasts. "You could say that."

"Huh," she said. "Fascinating. Where does the communications degree come in?"

"Hmm, well… I have decent, uh, oral skills."

Genna blushed at that. "I wouldn't know."

"You wouldn't, would you?" he said. "I'll have to remember to show you next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah. I'd show you now, but, well…" He held up the paper he had torn from the notebook. "My brother's waiting for this, and it's better I go to him than for him to try to find me."

"Understood," she said standing up from his lap, mourning the loss of his touch the moment she was away from him. Man, she had it bad. "I'll get dressed."

She pulled her clothes on quickly, meeting him back in the living room as she slipped on her shoes. Matty grabbed his keys, and the two of them set out for his car.

"I can drop you off at your house on my way," he said, looking in the rearview mirror as the garage door opened.

She looked at him incredulously. "Are you crazy?"

"Possibly," he said, smirking as he backed up, pausing to close the garage door again, before taking off down the street. "Crazy about you, anyway."

"Yeah, well, you have to be certifiable to even think about going to my house," she said. "My father would
kill
you."

"Your father's out of town," he said. "He's up in Connecticut. And your brother, well… word is he has a girl down in Little Italy he's going to be spending the weekend with."

She gaped at him. "How do you…?"

"Give me some credit here, Genna," he replied. "I know what I'm getting myself into."

Shaking her head, she looked away from him and glanced at the clock on the dash. It was almost three in the morning. "You're not as good as you think you are. My brother saw you."

"In East Harlem?"

"Yeah."

"I figured," Matty muttered. "I saw him standing there so I kept on going. I didn't even think to check where he was before I swung by. It was a rough day."

"Your mom was in the hospital," Genna said quietly, recalling the conversation Dante had with their father.

"How do you…?" he started, laughing dryly as he cut off, shaking his head. "I guess we're not the only ones who keep tabs on the other side."

"Of course not. You seem to baffle them, though."

"Why?"

She hesitated, silence enveloping the car. The radio was turned off, the air so quiet that Genna could hear every one of her shaky breaths. "They can't figure out why you're here."

"You didn't tell them why?"

She scoffed. "I'd never."

"Because you don't want them to know about us?"

She gazed at him in the darkness, surprised by his earnest tone. "I just don't want to give my father a reason to kill you."

He laughed dryly. "Your father doesn't need a
reason
. He'd try to kill me just for existing."

"He wouldn't."

"He
has
," Matty said, a hard edge to his voice. "He's already tried, princess. It's certainly nothing new."

His mocking tone made the hair on her nape bristle. "When?"

He shook his head, casting a glance at her. "Not now."

"Then when?"

"Just… some other time," he said. "I'd rather not get into it right now. But trust me when I say I'm not afraid of your father. There's nothing he could do to me that he hasn't already tried to do to me… tried, and failed. And always will fail."

Genna looked away from him, gazing out of the window, and said nothing else as they drove back through Manhattan. Matty drove straight to Westchester County, right to her house without her having to offer an address or any sort of directions. She wasn't surprised, not really, but it still unnerved her that
they
knew exactly where to find her at all times.

He pulled straight up to her front door and put the car in park, grabbing her arm to stop her when she tried to get out. He pulled her toward him and softly kissed her lips.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For?"

"For trusting me, even if you don't trust me."

She hesitated, glancing from him to her house then back to him again. "You got me home safe."

"Yeah."

"You said you would."

"I did."

"Guess that means I have no reason not to trust you now."

He smiled softly, letting go of her arm. "Does this mean you decided you want me? Because you still haven't called me like I told you to."

She rolled her eyes. "That's because I deleted your number."

"Seriously?"

She pulled out her phone, laughing to herself. "Yep."

Wordlessly, Matty reached over and grabbed the phone, once more plugging his number into it, before handing it back to her. "Don't delete it this time."

She smiled playfully, waving the phone toward him as she got out of the car. "I make no promises."

La Traviata
. The drinking song.

The music echoed through the dining room, so soft the others didn't seem to notice it, but it was all Matty could hear. Over and over, again and again.

It was his father's favorite song.

His father's favorite opera.

It grated on Matty's every nerve.

He sat at the table, pushing the food around on his plate, not hungry in the least. He wasn't sure why he'd agreed to this charade of a family dinner.

Probably because it was Mom who asked me to come
.

His mother, who sat across from him, smiling happily as she ate dinner, her gaze drifting between all of them. Matty smiled whenever she looked at him, grateful to see the adoration in her expression. She loved him. He knew that. He
believed
that.

He couldn't fathom a life without her, but he knew it would happen—sooner, rather than later. He could see how tired she already was.

Matty pushed his food around some more, taking a few bites, when the song started up again. Sighing, he dropped his fork and sat back in his chair as ringing echoed through the room from his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he glanced at the screen to see a new text message from a foreign number… one he easily gathered belonged to Genna.

So, I've been thinking...

He quickly typed back, holding his phone near his lap.
About what?

Before he could put his phone away, it dinged with another message.
About those oral skills you're supposedly certified in.

He replied right away
.
Certified? Princess, I practically have a PhD.

"All this texting and technology," Roberto grumbled.

Matty ignored his father, texting Genna again before she could respond to his last message
. So I've been thinking too...

"It's what's hurting families, you know," Roberto continued. "It's destroying society. Kids these days can't even make it through dinner without their telephones."

Sighing exasperatedly, knowing the man wouldn't drop it, Matty started to put his phone away when it rang again with yet another message.
Fuck it
. Dismissing his father's unrestrained groan of annoyance, Matty glanced at the message and smiled.

About my oral skills? ;)

No,
he replied
. I was thinking about going on a date… although, now I'm thinking about THAT, too.

"What's got you smiling, Sugar Cube?"

Matty put his phone away and glanced over at his mother, seeing her look of curiosity. Before he could respond, however, Enzo chimed in. "Must be his girl again."

"His girl?" his parents said at the same time.

"Yep," Enzo said. "She's had him lit up like the fourth of fucking July for weeks."

"En, language," their mother chided before turning her focus right back to Matty. "So this girl..."

"Mom," he warned. "Please."

"Oh, fine." She waved him off. "I was just being nosey."

"No, I'd like to hear about this girl," Roberto said. "Does she have a name?"

"Yes," Matty said. "Everyone does, last I checked."

Roberto's eyes narrowed at his sarcasm before he turned to Enzo. "Enzo?"

"Don't ask me," Enzo said, holding his hands up defensively. "He won't tell me shit."

"En!"

"Language, I know," he grumbled. "Sorry, Ma, but it's true. I figure he's gotta be ashamed of her, right?"

"Huh." Roberto glanced at Matty again, judgment clear in his eyes as he regarded him coldly. "Or else he's ashamed of
us
."

"Enough," his mother said, the happiness gone from her expression. "Not tonight, fellas."

"Apologies, Savina," Roberto said, pushing his chair back and standing up. "We have some work to attend to, anyway. Dinner was lovely, honey. Enzo?"

"Right behind you," Enzo said, already on his feet. The two of them made a speedy exit for Roberto's office, while Matty just sat there, staring at his plate. His gaze shifted to his mother's after a moment, seeing the curiosity back in her eyes.

"Between you and me," she said quietly. "Which one are you ashamed of?"

"Neither."

"Then what is it?"

He sighed, answering silently
. I'm afraid you'll all be ashamed of me
.

She stared at him, her expression softening. "I'm not going to ask you any more. I won't do that to you. I just want you to be happy, Matty."

That was all she ever wanted—their happiness. But what about hers?

Before he could dwell on that his phone chimed again. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Like a real, live date?

A few seconds later, another message came in.
With me?

"Her name's Genna," he said quietly, shaking his head.
Only her.

"Genna," she repeated. "Is this the same girl we talked about before? The one you thought you'd lose because you're a Barsanti?"

"Yes."

It took a moment, but a soft smile touched her lips as she said the name again. "Genna."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he warned her, seeing that look on her face, the same daydreamy look she had last time, the one that said she was envisioning grandchildren.

"Genna Barsanti has a nice ring to it," she said, ignoring him. "I always complimented Cara about that name."

"Cara?"

"Yes, my old friend Cara Galante. Their daughter, Genevieve... they sometimes called her Genna."

Matty stared at his mother, seeing the knowing twinkle in her eyes. She wasn't stupid, not in the least.

"I, uh... I should go," he said, standing up and walking around to the other side of the table to kiss his mother's cheek. "Thanks for dinner."

"Anytime. Maybe you'll bring Genna along next time."

"I wouldn't count on it, Mom."

Not as long as my father's around.

"I'll pick you up."

"You can't," Genna whispered into the phone as she strode into her closet and snatched her favorite pair of black stilettos from their place on the shelf. "They're here."

"Ah, right."

"How about I just meet you somewhere?"

"Where?"

"I don't know. Where are you at?"

"The Place."

"Is it safe for me to come there?"

"Uh, sure."

She sighed, sitting down on the bed and holding the phone in the crook of her neck as she slid on her shoes. "You don't sound very sure."

"Well, it's Soho. How safe is it ever for you?"

True
. "How about I—" A knock on her door cut her off mid-sentence. "—I'll call you back."

She hung up, tossing the phone down on the bed just as her door was pushed open. Standing up, she ran her fingers through her wavy hair, loosening some more of the curls, as Dante strode in.

"Hey," she said casually, glancing at him on her way to her bathroom. "Need something?"

"Nah," he said, following her, pausing in the doorway as she grabbed some hairspray and coated her hair. "Heard you were going out."

She cut her eyes at him. "So?"

"So I was just being nosey as hell," he admitted, eyeing her peculiarly. "You haven't been out since, you know..."

"Since I got arrested," she said. "Been awhile, huh?"

"It has. I was starting to worry you actually
did
give up on life."

"Of course not," she said, grabbing her lip-gloss and putting a layer over her lips before turning to face him. "Why?"

He shrugged a shoulder as he turned away and strolled through her bedroom, tinkering around with things as he nonchalantly busied himself.

"Oh God," she groaned, flicking off the bathroom light and stepping into the bedroom behind Dante. "No, Dante. Please tell me he didn't order you to follow me tonight."

He cast her a sideways glance, sighing, as he offhandedly flipped through a book on her desk. "You know how it goes."

"This is ridiculous!" she said, throwing up her hands in frustration. "I'm not twelve, you know. I'm an adult. I don't need to be babysat."

"I'll just drive you wherever you're going."

"And what, wait out in the parking lot?" she asked incredulously. "Hide out in the corner of the restaurant? Sit two rows back from me at the movie theater?"

"Is that what you're doing? Dinner and a movie?"

"Does it matter?"

He started to respond, but she cut him off before he could get anything out, because yes… it mattered. They both knew it. It mattered to their father.

"This isn't fair," she ground out, glaring at her brother, although she knew it wasn't his fault. "At all."

"It's the price you pay for being one of us."

She shook her head.
It's the price I pay for looking like my mother
.

"Look, just let me drive you," he said. "I have some things to do tonight. I promise I won't lurk. I'll just drop you off and be on my way."

She hesitated. "You promise?"

He held up his fingers. "Scouts honor."

"Fine," she said, grabbing her purse and spouting out the first thing that popped into her mind. "I'm meeting some friends in Harlem."

"What friends?"

She shot daggers at him. "I conceded to a ride, Dante, but not an interrogation."

He let out a laugh, pulling his keys from his pocket. "I was just being nosey. For real that time."

Genna headed downstairs, stopping by her father's office quickly to say goodbye. She strode in, right past one of his associates, the two men abruptly stopping talking as soon as she appeared. Sighing, Genna kissed her father's cheek and stepped away as he eyed her, clearly assessing her. "That dress is kind of short, isn't it, honey?"

She rolled her eyes, not humoring him with an answer. It was blood red and fell nearly to her fingertips, a layer of long-sleeved lace covering the skin-tight tube top dress. Short, maybe, but it was a hell of a lot more modest than most hanging in her closet.

"I'm heading out, Dad," Dante hollered from the doorway, where he waited for her. "I'll be back later."

"Give your sister a ride, will you?" Primo replied, his voice casual, although it made Genna glare at him. It was an act, she knew. That had been arranged hours ago, and there was no question about it. It was an order.

"Already on it," Dante said, waving goodbye as he motioned for Genna to go ahead of him. She headed outside, her brother right behind her. They both climbed into his car, and he raised his eyebrows as she clipped her seatbelt in place. "Where to?"

"I told you—Harlem."

"Where at in Harlem?"

"You know where Jackson lives?"

Dante's expression fell. "Genna…"

"There's a pizzeria across the street from it," she said, waving off his concerned look. "Drop me there."