The Claim (9 page)

“Right,” Anna snorted, used to Mimi’s threats. “What’s the contract like? Can I have a look?”

“Of course! That’s why I’m friends with you.”

“And I thought it was my sparkling personality. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

“There always is,” Mimi sighed. “Anyways, what did you want to talk to me about? You called me, right?”

“You set me up. You owe me. Maybe I’ll slip in a clause to your contract for twenty-five percent of your pay to come directly to me each month.”

Mimi grumbled, “I did that for your own good.”

“Maybe having twenty-five percent less of a salary is for
your
own good.”

“Oh stop being so stubborn! You want him to be right, I can tell, I can read you, child. Because if he’s right and Imogen’s a liar that means you can jump back on that Italian sausage straight away.”

“One, disgusting language. Two, why would Imogen lie?”

“Because she’s Imogen! Her life has no meaning unless she’s causing drama and getting attention, who knows.”

“It’s not about getting back with him, there are serious issues here.”

“No there aren’t. What you’re worried about is people judging you for getting back together with a man who apparently cheated on you. You’ve built a career on being a very strong, very capable woman. Accepting a cheat goes against the grain, when really, my lovely, it’s fuck all to do with anyone else but you and Italian sausage.”

“Stop it, Meems.” She couldn’t really respond because it was all very true. What did it make her if she just took him back? Just the fact that she was thinking about it really, really irritated her.

“Other than the obvious, what else was going on in your relationship?” Mimi asked.

“Nothing! It was all fine. Perfect, in fact. That’s what I didn’t understand. There was nothing wrong with us, we were amazing together. But cheating is just a big, fat no no.”

“Because?” Mimi enquired silkily.

“What do you mean because?”

“Why is it a no no? Why can’t you start over?”

“I’m not a mug,” Anna snapped. “I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a fool because I’m swayed by a pretty face, a fat wallet and a big dick. You know what, my dad has managed thirty-eight years being married to the same woman, and he’s never given anyone else a second look. Rocco flaming Mamione couldn’t manage eight months. Am I really going to explain that to my parents? If he couldn’t keep it under wraps when we were just boyfriend and girlfriend, why would he if we were married?”

“Straight to marriage, eh?”

“Meems, come on! You know what I mean. Nothing is different from where we were six years ago.”

“That’s not true. You’re a different person. I will fully admit that I’m a different person. Wiser now than six years ago. It takes time. Maybe he’s matured, maybe he’s watched his friends grow up and there’s been enough loneliness for him to appreciate just what he lost when you two broke up.”

Anna shook her head, tugging on her curls in frustration. “Once a cheat…”

Mimi made a wincing noise. “Eh, not strictly true. I only did it the once.”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

“We all make mistakes. And I regret it. Doesn’t mean I should be staked at the heart.”

“You’re different.”

“How?”

“Well, you’re you. And you’ve carried some serious responsibilities and probably you needed a release—you have been with some useless men in your time.”

Mimi laughed. “You’re making excuses for me, which is nice, but then if you can forgive me an indiscretion, what’s holding you back with Rocco?”

“I said, you’re different.”

“Well if it was me, what would I need to do to prove I was sorry?”

“Tell the truth,” Anna blurted. “Don’t play around with me. Give me a reason to show that you are worth my trust because you’ve killed it.”

“Anna Taylor, you are an advocate. Open your mouth and
tell
him that. The reason you cannot keep to a relationship is because a) the guy’s got an impossible standard to meet with your parents, and b) Rocco Mamione is just... My God,” Mimi breathed, “I’d ruin him.”

“Amelia!” Anna gasped.

“For life.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Lost a friend over him, remember?”

“Sorry. And c) you’ll never be able to trust anyone else ever until you face what went wrong with you and Rocco. The decision has always remained with you.”

“I know, but he shouldn’t be pushing it with gifts.” She looked over and glared at the huge stuffed cuddly bear, holding a heart with
I’m sorry
stitched onto it that had arrived first thing that morning.

“What gifts?”

“Teddy bears.”

Mimi laughed. “He knows you.”

“He’s grasping,” she retorted. The bear’s sad eyes looked even sadder for a moment.

“He’s got you down pat.”

“Stop defending him or I’ll send the bear to you with parts missing.”

Mimi laughed harder. “That’s the most fucked up thing I’ve heard today.”

“Not ever?”

“I work in a hospital, honey, so no.”

“But you know I’m not messing around now.”

Mimi sighed. “Yes, all right, do a
Godfather
on your bear, but stop whining. You are an articulate woman. Please put that talent to good use and have a chat. Nothing is ever black or white when it comes to love. You know that.”

“All right, fine!” Anna huffed.

“Good,” Mimi said smugly. “I like when you acknowledge my superior brain.”

They ended the call and Anna again looked at the bear. “God’s sake, stop staring at me, or you’re getting cut up and sold to a pet shop for cage linings.”

The bear looked teary eyed in a certain light, which disturbed her greatly. Articulate or no, right now, with that bear giving her the sad face, she couldn’t face Rocco quite yet.

Rocco felt disgusting. Like he was wallowing in every vile thing possible. When his head rolled with eye-watering pain, he sent Beppe a text.
When I am better, you will die
. To which Beppe replied:
Either have sex or drink mango juice. Those are the only cures at the moment. I’m working on the others.

You’re a cock.
“Mango juice it is then,” he murmured to himself. Surprisingly, within forty-five minutes, he was feeling decent enough to draft a letter to his client’s previous solicitors.

“Dear Sirs, Please do enlighten me as to where you obtained your knowledge of the law, as at the present time, your defence has me thoroughly convinced that you were educated by the rats that run around the rear of the Old Bailey.”

Not that he would send it, but he needed to vent for a few paragraphs and then he would return something less aggravating rather, more along the lines of “thank you for allowing me to keep this man out of prison. If you had continued to represent him, he would have been guaranteed a place in Wakefield prison.”

Definitely not that either. What he really wanted to do was think on how to encourage Anna to talk to him. Regain her trust. Re-establish their relationship. He had to treat this as though he had done something wrong, because of the end result. He had lost the woman he loved. Having never been a cheater, he was at a loss as to what he could do to start. His father had always made up with flowers and one of the gateaux from Nonna’s deli. The flowers were understandable, but the cake from Nonna was just a spit in the face, especially when his father was so very aware that his wife and mother clashed over desserts. Hopefully Anna’s bear had turned up and she hadn’t ripped it into fluffy pieces.

He reached over to pick up the phone and heard a commotion outside his office. Hovering all of three inches above the seat of his chair, Rocco was only partly surprised when Enzo stormed inside, waving the crisp letterhead of the firm in his hand. He really needed to speak to Charles about security.

“What the fuck is this?” he yelled.

Rocco got to his feet and closed the door behind him. “Shut up.”

“This is all you, isn’t it?” he hissed, the warning to be quiet forcing him to lower his tone. “You really think I give a shit about a fucking tribunal? You can’t do this!”

“But I can,” Rocco said.

“I know you can’t—this shit does not fly with the Da Canavezes. You’re such a self-righteous dick. Who are you anyway?”

Rocco found that hilarious. “Me? You realise that the only reason you even have any money is because my father practically put the cash in your father’s pocket and kept his mouth shut when he got caught. You think your family has earned anything without people like me covering your hairy arses?”

Enzo snorted. “And what? You’re looking for a thank you? It’s your job, you’re supposed to keep things quiet, but this is insane!” He waved the letter in Rocco’s face once again. Rocco caught his wrist until he heard a satisfying crack.

“Back. Off.” Enzo retreated a few steps as soon as he was released. His stupidity was really starting to wear thin. “You should understand something very simple. If I wasn’t
permitted
to do this, I wouldn’t be doing this. Quite frankly, you wouldn’t be breathing.”

“You can’t sue me!”

Rocco shrugged. “Then give my grandmother what she’s asked for.” Knowing Anna, she’d have demanded the sky and a little bit of Pluto while she was at it. Enzo looked like he was about to start an argument, but Rocco really wasn’t in the most patient frame of mind. “Don’t whine to me. If you think I’ve stepped out of line, go ask where you think you should ask. Now get out of my office. You’re making it look untidy.”

With a growl, Enzo stalked out. “Prick,” Rocco muttered under his breath. Too irritated to go back to work, he instead picked up his phone and started playing Angry Birds just to calm down. “Ten minutes,” he promised himself. “Then I’ll go back to earning my status.”

Chapter Ten

“Who?” Anna asked, into her intercom. She was just in the middle of doing her “angry” draft, where she freely wrote what she really wanted to say either to the court or the other side and sometimes her client before she modified it for human consumption. Partway through reading it back, calling the other solicitors “mental retards who couldn’t find the Employment Act if it was rammed into their bowels” seemed a fair judgement. It was really the best way to get Rocco and the feel of his lips on her hand out of her mushy head. Bernie interrupted her efforts to tell her there was an Enzo Vitale waiting for her.

“Oh!” Nonna’s boss…old boss. Something or other, she didn’t really know how to refer to him other than what Nonna kept saying about him in Sicilian dialect—
fetuso
. Not particularly friendly. Batty old woman. She really would have to reply to that card Nonna had sent her inviting her to try some cakes. She really did fancy some cake. “Oh, all right. This once.”

The door opened and a man who obviously had a height complex walked in. “Anna Taylor?”

“Yes, hello.” Politeness forced her to stand up and offer her hand. She sat back down behind her desk and looked at him expectantly.
Well?

“I asked someone who the reference AT was and I was directed here.”

 
Don’t call him fetuso, he’ll know what that means...
“What can I do for you?”

“I believe you need to speak to your client, make her understand that this claim is pretty pointless.”

Anna looked to the side, an automatic reaction to find another pair of eyes as filled with incredulity as her own were. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“It’s not how things are done,” he said with such oily slickness, Anna felt the need to wipe her hands.

“Well, according to the laws of this country, it is how things are done. I’ve written a grievance letter to you on my client’s behalf. You need to respond to that. If you don’t or we can’t come to a satisfactory arrangement, we’re filing our claim with the Tribunal. I thought that was pretty clear in the letter.”

“Maybe she was not a good worker—”

“You should have taken her to a meeting. She worked for that deli for thirty years without a single disciplinary.”

“But she’s a woman of advanced years...”

“Age discrimination.”

“It seemed—”

“Outside of the range of reasonable responses. See you’re going to make it very easy for a judge to slap you upside the head with the procedure book. If I were you, I’d speak to some solicitors, not
me,
and come to a figure such as the one I’ve indicated in the letter. Not the grievance, the one I sent a few days ago.”