Believe (San Francisco Brides Series Book 2) Read online

  When she reached the ground floor, she sat on the bottom stair. Pulling a compact from her purse, she freshened her makeup. La grazia dell’ amore was unpredictable, mysterious, but she knew it would find Lorenzo. She rose to find Sal.

  Chapter Six

  Lorenzo started up in his bed. His sheets twisted around him. His head ached, his body tight with tension from the usual nightmare. The one where he was restrained—and he couldn’t protect Lita, couldn’t reach her in time.

  He sucked in a few deep breaths. He climbed from bed, stretching. His shoulders eased, his calves loosened. Nothing held him any longer—not anything he couldn’t cut and free himself from. The nightmare had to end.

  He went into the bathroom and turned on the water. Soon, steam billowed out. He glanced at himself in the fogging mirror. Today, he could be there for Lita, like she’d asked. And today, he’d start to be the man he could be, a man she’d be proud of. Even if she decided they could never be together, she’d know he loved her.

  ***

  Lorenzo waited outside the door at Grandpop and Vincente’s house up the street from Uncle Enzo’s. He turned to look at the palm trees and iron gate. He couldn’t see down the block, where Lita was.

  “Vincente.” Lorenzo nodded to his cousin Vincente, who opened the door, dressed for church. Vincente and his Grandpop, Lorenzo’s great uncle Vittorio, usually arrived home from church at this time. “Grandpop around?”

  “Yeah. He’s in his sitting room.” Vincente motioned Lorenzo to walk with him. “Heard about your father. You doing okay?”

  Lorenzo stared at his cousin’s back. Vincente was a bit shorter than Lorenzo, but he was more powerful. He could take a man down with one well-timed punch. When Lorenzo needed trusted backup, Vincente was the first person he called.

  “I’ve got business to discuss with Grandpop.” Lorenzo followed Vincente through the door down the hall. He hated this, asking for help. The men in his family didn’t ask for help. But he had to, this time.

  “Want me to leave?” Vincente glanced at him. He had the shrewd eyes of Uncle Enzo and Grandpop—deep set, focused, sometimes eerily calm.

  “Up to you. Might need backup, though.” Lorenzo rubbed his hands.

  Vincente clapped him on the shoulder. They walked in.

  Grandpop turned off his TV and steepled his hands. “Lorenzo. My condolences. What brings you here?”

  “Thanks. I have a favor to ask.” Lorenzo stood like a soldier at attention. Asking for a favor made his body tense more than when he’d spent two months at military academy. He’d been kicked out of some of the best prep schools in California.

  Grandpop nodded. His grey hair was thinning, but nothing else about him was less than robust. Even seated, his muscular frame and vitality intimidated more than the Patton-like commanding officer of that military school.

  “My father’s been blackmailing me for years.”

  Grandpop snuffed an angry hiss and shook his head. “Bastardo.” He waved a hand at Lorenzo, signaling him to continue.

  “He told me I could never escape who I am. But I’m not going to be him.” Lorenzo relaxed his shoulders and gripped the back of the sofa. “My father gave all the evidence to his associate, Uri Volkov. I have to convince him to exchange it.”

  “For what?” Grandpop leaned forward, his silver eyebrows raised.

  “The clubs. If that’s enough.” Uri wouldn’t broker a deal with Lorenzo. Uri only dealt with men he considered old enough to be wise, and wise enough to be in charge of their families—or men, like Lorenzo’s father, who had something on him.

  Grandpop twisted the wedding ring he still wore, though his wife had passed a year before Aunt Angela. He pointed a sinewy finger at Lorenzo. “It will be, if I tell him it’s enough.” Grandpop rose. He walked to a side table and poured himself a shot of Sambuca. He raised the glass to Lorenzo. “Success.” Grandpop knocked back the clear liqueur in one gulp. “Vincente, go get Nico. He’ll drive.”

  Vincente nodded and strode back out the door.

  “I know why you’re doing this, Lorenzo.” Grandpop stood in front of him. He waited for Lorenzo to meet his stare.

  Lorenzo shifted his feet and stared back. He scratched the side of his mouth. “I want to change.”

  “For Lita. Enzo told me—”

  “None of you can judge me.” Lorenzo stepped closer to Grandpop, looming over him.

  Grandpop raised his eyebrows and frowned. He placed a hand on Lorenzo’s shoulder and squeezed. Lorenzo flinched at the sharp pinch to some nerve he hadn’t known was there.

  Grandpop released his hold and patted Lorenzo’s shoulder. “We’ve all done wrong. But thinking love alone will change you—it’s a false hope. Enzo loves that girl like she was his daughter. And I see why. We have more experience—”

  Lorenzo didn’t need to be told about false hopes. He needed to believe. “Then don’t help me.” Lorenzo turned.

  “Impaziente. Stop interrupting. I’ll help you. I know what it is to lose love.” Grandpop’s voice lowered to a whisper.

  Lorenzo faced him. “I don’t know if Lita will have me.” His body ached. “I want her to see I can be the man she believes I could be…” He sank onto the arm of the sofa.

  “The man she sees with eyes of love.” Grandpop nodded. “When she speaks of you…” He snorted out a breath, like a frustrated bull. “Up, up. Andiamo. We’re due for supper at Enzo’s in a few hours.” He snapped his fingers and strode out.

  Lorenzo hopped up. Eyes of love…Lorenzo rubbed his hand over his mouth to wipe away his smile. He walked out. Lita loved him. Or so Grandpop thought. Her kisses said yes. Her body said yes. If he stopped saying no…yes would win.

  ***

  Nico, Grandpop’s security man, parked the car outside the modest house of Uri Volkov. Volkov had been a business associate of Lorenzo’s father, who’d had no friends, only associates, and Lorenzo.

  The sun filtered through the trees lining the block in the inner Richmond District, painting shadows along the sidewalk. Lorenzo gripped the paper bag of Celeste’s jam-filled cookies they’d stopped to buy at D’Angelo’s. Volkov had a sweet tooth. Besides, Grandpop never showed up empty-handed. Or without back-up.

  Lorenzo followed Grandpop and Vincente up the stone stairs. Nico waited in the car. Vincente pushed the button outside the elaborate iron gate. A buzzer sounded. Vincente pushed open the gate. They moved into the cool entry.

  The burly man who’d delivered the papers to Lorenzo last night opened the front door and stepped aside without a word. The house smelled of tobacco, newsprint, and sugar. An older maid bustled by with a coffee service tray balanced in her meaty hands. She smiled at Grandpop.

  “Ciao, Signore DeGrazia.” Her Russian accent made the lyrical Italian sound clipped.

  “Ciao, bella.” Grandpop flashed her a smile.

  She giggled. Lorenzo shook his head at the same time Vincente did. Grandpop’s way with women approached legendary.

  She dipped her head and led them down the hall into a back room. Volkov sat stuffed in a rounded chair behind a large desk covered with papers and magazines. The maid set the tray on a side table.

  “Khoroso.” Volkov rubbed his hands together. The maid poured coffee. “Good morning, Vittorio. To what do I owe this honor?”

  “Uri, you’re looking well.” Grandpop slid into a leather wing chair and steepled his hands. He waved at Lorenzo. “We’ve brought you a little treat from D’Angelo’s.”

  Lorenzo handed Volkov the bag. The old man smiled and delved into the bag, pulling out a cookie. He bit into it, chewed, and sighed in satisfaction. “If I weren’t already married, I’d have snapped up that Celeste D’Angelo before your brother. She bakes the confections of heaven. Coffee?” He sipped from his tiny cup.

  Vincente and Lorenzo declined, but Grandpop accepted. The maid left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  “Sympathies for your father, Lorenzo.” Volkov brushed cookie crumbs from his
hands.

  Lorenzo nodded. His chest tightened. This man might look comical, but he was as ruthless and violent as his father had been, or so Lorenzo had been told.

  “Let’s not pretend, Uri.” Grandpop pointed his hands forward. “Vincenzo Calabra was a bastard. No good to any of us.”

  “He served a time or two. Got favors out of me.” He stared at Lorenzo. “I can’t say I liked him.” Volkov shrugged. “I made a promise.”

  “The man blackmailed his own son.” Grandpop made a spitting sound. “Lorenzo wants out.”

  Volkov narrowed his eyes at Lorenzo. Lorenzo didn’t move, barely even blinked.

  “This arrangement works fine for me.” Volkov crossed his arms onto his protruding stomach.

  “I have a better proposal.” Grandpop leaned forward. “Lorenzo gives you the clubs, you give him his father’s papers.” Grandpop’s tone was confidential, confident. He sat back with a shrug. “And you’d have my gratitude.”

  Uri leaned his elbows on the desk. “How do I know Lorenzo won’t change his mind and make unnecessary trouble?” Volkov’s voice was thick with suspicion.

  “There’s a woman.” Grandpop twisted his wedding ring.

  Lorenzo clenched his jaw. Grandpop was not going there.

  Volkov chuckled. “With Lorenzo, there are many women.”

  “No more.” Grandpop made it sound final. “This one—the face of an angel, innocent, and bakes like…her mocha cake is…” Grandpop kissed his fingers.

  That was Lita, almost—she was more, more than Lorenzo had fantasized.

  Volkov wiped a finger around his mouth. “Both the clubs. Plus his father’s little house in the Marina. And cake from this divine woman.”

  “My lawyer will draw up the papers. He’ll have them to you tomorrow morning.” Grandpop rose and held out his hand.

  Volkov nodded and shook Grandpop’s hand. “Glad to put the devil’s work behind.” He shook Lorenzo’s hand. “You bring that young woman with her cake when we sign, Lorenzo.”

  “I—” Lorenzo didn’t want Lita here.

  “We’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.” Grandpop gripped Lorenzo’s arm. “Always a pleasure, Uri.”

  “The pleasure is mine.” Volkov said through a bite of cookie.

  Lorenzo walked out, flanked by Grandpop and Vincente. Vincente clapped him on the back. “Who’s this woman?”

  “You’ll meet her later,” Grandpop answered before Lorenzo could open his mouth. “Nipote, don’t forget to invite Gina.” Grandpop led the way out.

  Lorenzo and Vincente glanced at each other and chuckled. “He won’t be satisfied ‘til we’re all married and popping out kids.” Vincente shook his head as they walked out into the warm sunshine.

  “He’d have to be a miracle worker to pull that off.”

  “Watch it. Grandpop helped me find Gina. And you remember what my grandma Teresa used to say? Miracles happen every day.”

  “If you believe.” Lorenzo’s voice was hushed.

  Vincente glanced at him again. “There’s always a chance.” Vincente shot him a half-smile as he hopped into the seat next to Nico.

  Lorenzo scanned the horizon. The sun shone high in the bright blue sky, wispy clouds floating like angel wings, close to the peaks of the city’s hills. Heaven was close enough to reach. He just hadn’t looked up to notice—until now, until Lita.

  ***

  Grandpop faced Lorenzo as they waited outside the wide oak front door at Uncle Enzo’s. He straightened Lorenzo’s tie and smoothed the shoulders on his dark grey suit.

  Grandpop gave his noble nod of approval. The door opened. Grandpop smiled. “Ah, Sophia.” Grandpop stepped in and hugged his only niece. “You look lovely.”

  Aunt Sophia grinned and fluffed her curly, dark hair. “Thanks. Please, come in. Lorenzo. Vincente, Gina was just asking about you.” Aunt Sophia’s smile faded when she glanced at Lorenzo. “Carlo’s in the living room with her. Janetta and Paolo are in the kitchen with my dad.”

  Lorenzo frowned. She hadn’t mentioned Lita. Surely Aunt Sophia would get along with Lita.

  Vincente kissed Aunt Sophia on the cheek. “Going to say hi to Carlo. And kiss my fiancée.”

  “Where’s Lita?” Grandpop said. “I have a favor to ask her.”

  Aunt Sophia shot a grimace at Lorenzo. “I sent her to the store with Joey for a few things.”

  A burning knife edged through Lorenzo’s gut, cutting a path to his throat. Aunt Sophia’d been trying to set his cousin Joey up with girls like Lita for over ten years now, since his and Joey’s high school days.

  The front door opened. Lita, laughing, leaned into Joey’s solid shoulder. She kissed Joey’s cheek. Lorenzo closed his eyes. He wanted to be near Lita, needed her. Lorenzo shook his shoulders and opened his eyes. Lita stared at him, her smile gone.

  “Hey Lorenzo,” Joey said as he took the grocery bags into the kitchen.

  Lorenzo’s face burned for feeling envious of his cousin. Though Sophia was really his second cousin, she’d been like an aunt to him, Joey and Janetta his cousins. They’d always welcomed him into their home—hell, he and Joey used to play together, from the time they were in diapers.

  But Lita had kissed Joey. Joey had smiled. Lita’s lips were meant for him, not Joey, not any other man but Lorenzo.

  “What’s he doing here?” Uncle Enzo’s voice sounded as harsh as the burning in Lorenzo’s gut.

  “I asked him.” Lita stepped forward. Her hair waved around her heart-shaped face. Her cheeks bloomed pink, like the figure-hugging dress she wore. It flared out on her shapely calves, like a mermaid tail.

  “Lorenzo.” Grandpop pushed his shoulder. “Go in the kitchen.”

  Since Lorenzo’d been ogling Lita, he nodded and strode into the kitchen before he made a bigger display of himself.

  Their family friend Paolo sat at the wide old oak table—the same table that Aunt Angela used to knead bread dough on, or help him with homework when he was in elementary school. She had decorated the whole house and it showed especially in the bright kitchen, with its sandy white, lemon yellow, and Mediterranean Sea blue tiles, ample counter space, large white appliances, and ironwork handles on the many cabinets and drawers. Lita’d love cooking in here.

  “Joey, Janetta,” Grandpop called.

  “You’re summoned.” Paolo laughed.

  Paolo and Janetta had been friends since high school, so Paolo knew them all like his own family. Janetta smirked at them both but walked out with her brother.

  “Got any new Ferragamos coming in?” Lorenzo said, trying to steer the conversation in an innocuous direction. Paolo was as infamous in the family as Aunt Sophia for matchmaking.

  “No. And your personal shopping favors will be at an end if you don’t wise up.” Paolo eased out of his chair, smoothing his light grey slacks.

  “What are you all conspiring about now?” Lorenzo shifted his feet. If Grandpop and Paolo were working together, miracles really could happen.

  “You.” Paolo rolled his eyes in an exaggerated expression. “Let me be your gay-dian angel and help you, you clueless boy.” Paolo and Janetta were only a couple of years older than Lorenzo, but they acted like it was ten.

  Lorenzo rubbed his mouth with his hand, stifling a chuckle. If he laughed now, Paolo would really go off.

  Paolo waved a hand. “Love!” A smile beamed. He placed his hands on his hips. “You and Lita are in it.” He put up a hand when Lorenzo opened his mouth. “Don’t let her go. She’s much too good for you, of course, even though Janetta doesn’t like her.” Paolo shrugged and wagged a finger at him. “I do, and if you don’t wise up, I’ll work my magic and set her up with Joey.”

  Lorenzo stretched his neck. Lorenzo had escaped Paolo’s “help” so far. Now… “Get me alone with her.”

  Paolo crossed his arms and gave him an unbelieving head shake.

  “Just in here. Five minutes.”

  “That I can do. Maybe ten even.” Paolo smiled and strolled out
.

  Lorenzo paced. He stopped when Lita entered and shut the swinging door.

  “I…Paolo said you wanted to talk.”

  Lorenzo nodded. The burning jealousy had stopped. His throat cracked, dry.

  Lita ran her fingers along the small island, approaching Lorenzo. He stilled, watching her. Her movements made his body burn in a different way.

  She leaned into him and kissed his cheek. Her lips stayed near his ear. He swallowed and closed his eyes. If his family had anything to say, this might be the last time he’d feel her close…

  “You’re a good man,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for not staying last night.”

  Lorenzo leaned into the counter, his head whirling with Lita’s words. Lorenzo straightened and smoothed his jacket. She believed in him. The corner of his mouth twitched up.

  “I want you.” Lorenzo blew out a breath. No wonder some guys planned romantic gestures—otherwise they came out wrong. “I’ve sold the clubs. I’m going to start a new business.” This wasn’t how he’d pictured his proposal to Lita.

  She studied his face. He stepped to her, enclosed her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She leaned herself into him, slid her arms around his neck. Everything was right in his world. He pulled back. Lita looked up at him and exhaled.

  “I love you. Say you’ll be mine?” he whispered.

  She tickled her fingers over the back of his neck. Her touch shot through him. “I’m already yours. I love you, too.” She kissed him, her lips a gentle caress.

  He needed her with him, all the time, every day. “Will you marry me, my angel?”

  “Yes, you and no one else.” She smiled, sweet, yet flirtatious.

  He tightened his hold on her. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He kissed her again.

  “Thank heaven.” Lita pressed herself closer.

  Through their kiss, Lorenzo smiled. Only heaven could deliver an angel.