Addicted to Santino - Amarie Avant Page 0,22

hunk of burrata,” I moan. The word means butter in Italian. Burrata is an artesian cheese hailing from the south of Italy. “Do you like cheese, Bob?”

I’ve always wanted to ask Bob a question. He blubbers and sputters on his words when Dad is angry. He’s a good target. Like me. Like a woman to an alpha male.

“Do you know what burrata is, Bob?” I ask.

The entire team of big kahunas stare at him.

“It’s a delicious cheese you would die for, Bob.” By now, I’m getting my kicks from uttering his name. And people call me the she-bitch. Here I am attempting to be nice, and he hasn’t responded to me at all.

Dad snarls, “We all know what the cheese is, Geraldine!”

My eyes flash to my father. “Why did you call me that, Dad?”

“I-I . . .”

“Because she escaped the monotony. I’ll meet Geraldine in Italy this weekend, with this one guy I’m seeing.” I address the entire team. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, my oldest sister had a ‘How Stella Got Her Groove Back’ situation with a Jamaican. Everyone looks down on their relationship—but Zane’s only two, maybe three, years younger than her. He’s tall, dark, gorgeous! And she left this fucking place because women are to blame for every fucking thing. Goodbye, assholes.”

There. I said it. No, not all the other stuff. My favorite word for the male species: Assholes.

(Okay, let’s pretend this page or so of nonsense didn’t occur. I’d lowered my gaze after my father’s quick reprimand. I said nothing and my comparison to Geraldine is still unresolved resentment. I love my sister dearly, support her lifestyle, and Dad’s treatment of women in the workplace was not challenged.)

A while later, the board meeting adjourns with me as the failure, and everyone files out. Dad heads over, stops the swiveling of my chair that I’ve done this entire time.

“Dad, you agreed with Steven assuming more work. I asked you to confirm specifically about Steven acquiring Mr. Matson’s contract. I asked right before the Fourth, but I remember as if it were yesterday. I’d mentioned how I’ve cultivated a relationship with him for years. I highly suggested Steven accept another account.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Dad sits at the edge of the table. Alright, he hadn’t accidentally called me Geraldine. My sister has been beneath his wing for years while I learned to play the violin as a little girl. Geraldine is nine years older than me. He’d committed most of his time to her that there was no time left for me. I had to learn it all on my own. The desire to follow in his footsteps came from Dad’s indifference.

He pats my shoulders. “Be a team player, Gina. Steven and Gabby have just started their new life together.”

“They’ve been married for years, Dad.”

“Just a few. How can I justify Steven’s promotions if nothing is required of him, sweetie?”

“I’m going on vacation, Dad.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the end of August.” Besides, I’ve never celebrated futile one-month anniversaries with past boyfriends.

His shoulders lift quickly then fall even faster. “First, speak with Mr. Matson, assess the issue. I shouldn’t even have to tell you that.”

“Fix Steven’s problem?”

He slams his hand down on the countertop next to his hip. “This is our company, Gina.”

But you want me to marry a businessman, a man who can take away my position. “I’ll fix it before I leave for Italy.”

“You most certainly will. Call your mother; give her the address of where you’re going.”

He leaves the room. I continue turning in my chair. Should I ask Santino for his thoughts on Italy? Even as I play with my cell phone and toy with the idea, I wonder how serious he is about us. After all, we’re only one month strong.

That man can lay the pipe like nobody’s business. If he didn’t wrap me in his arms and cuddle with me afterward, I might be inclined to pull out my black card.

I text him a single word. ‘Italy.’ A silly smile captures my face.

15

Santino

Italy? Fuck yeah. I’ll take Gina to Italy.

I can imagine it now while stomping the dried cement off my steel-toe boots and getting into my truck. I’d started looking at tickets the other morning and wondering if I should hit The Pipeline, just for a few. Then I thought better of it. I make a good living. I told myself Gina would want to wait an appropriate amount of time before letting me whisk her off her feet.

I could tempt her