Baby V (Chianti Kisses #1) (35 page)

“
Yo
u’
re giving him too much power, V. He does
n’
t orchestrate your life. He does
n’
t make your decisions for you. Only you do that. It does
n’
t matter who he was or what he did. It does
n’
t impact who you are, what you make of yourself. All that matters is what you want. You know I want you. I always have. Just think for yourself, make your own decision, what do
you
  want
?
”

EPILOGUE

FIFTEEN MONTHS LATER

“
Steph, help me find my damn shoe!
I’
m gonna be late!
,
”
 
I frantically scream at the top of my lungs out to the living room.

One red shoe. You would think it would
n’
t be all that hard to find. I check the shoe rack of my tiny closet once more. There is
n’
t enough room in here for a damn paper clip to get lost, i
t’
s so tiny. But somehow,
I’
ve managed to loose one very pretty size seven shoe.

“
Is this it
?
”

I turn to face my roommate as she dangles a shoe by i
t’
s heel.
 “
Tha
t’
s it!
,
” I gratefully take it from her and use her shoulder to help me balance myself as I secure the red high-heel to my foot.

She laughs,
 “
Relax, V! He has
n’
t even asked you to marry him yet and yo
u’
re already acting like a spaz
.
”

I roll my eyes at her while checking my reflection one last time in the mirror, fluffing out my flattening hair.

“I’
m trying Steph, really, I am. I just... I feel it in my bones. I know tonigh
t’
s the night
.
”

I hurry past her and out to our small but quaint living quarters, locating my wool coat and slipping my arms through it. A larger-sized yellow manilla envelope calls my attention as it sits on the nearby coffee table. I reach for it.

“
Can you drop this in the mail for me? I do
n’
t think
I’
ll have time
,
” I see her roll her eyes at me.
 “
Please? Take pity on me.
I’
m gonna be so late
.
”

Steph takes the envelope while nodding,
 “
Fine... but you paid for postage for this one too, did
n’
t you? You do
n’
t get paid enough for all these extra things, V
.
”

I open our front door, and step my way through the common hallway of our apartment building out toward the elevator.

“
I know. What can I say? I
t’
s a non-profit organization Steph. Ther
e’
s very little money in our budget for postage. So, if I can help by mailing a few things on my dime... why not
?
”

I smile through the closing metal doors as my roommate waves me away.

Hailing a cab in New York City is a talent. It takes practice to get it just right.
I’
m proud to say that I am now a master of the task. I recite the address to the cabbie and check my watch once more. I should be at least fifteen minutes late, barring little-to-no traffic.

Twenty five minutes later, my yellow cab swerves over in front of Thompso
n’
s, an upscale americana grill. I hand the driver a folded bill,
 “
Keep the change
.
”

The door is opened for me by a friendly grandfatherly-looking man accompanying his wife to dinner. I nod to them, expressing my thanks and making small talk as we all hand our coats over simultaneously to the coat-check attendant, before bidding them a good night.

“
Vincenza Lombardi here to meet Mr.-
,
” I introduce myself to the hostess, but am interrupted as soon as she hears my name.

She smiles broadly,
 “
Yes! Of course. Please, your party has been expecting you. Follow me
.
”

I smile at her comment.
I’
m sure h
e’
s been expecting me. Expecting me to be late, that is. W
e’
ve been dating long enough where
I’
m sure he told me seven
o’
clock knowing full well I would
n’
t be here till nearly seven thirty.

I follow the pert young hostess as she climbs the stairs to the balcony dining tables. Wow, he really went all out. These tables are usually very hard to get. We came here on one of our dates, early-on, and I remember looking up at these tables from the main dining room downstairs, thinking how elegant they looked. That was nearly eight months ago, now, I guess. So much has happened in these months, that I just sometimes ca
n’
t believe i
t’
s only been less than a year.

My job over at the family league has kept me more busy than I had ever planned. It was hard to leave ATH, but, I knew I could
n’
t stay. There were too many ghosts, too many memories there. I needed to make something of myself on my own. Too many people had been involved in making my life decisions, whether publicly or unbeknownst to me. I had enough. It was time to be my own person.

So, I signed over my ten percent holdings in the company to Dom, giving him the stake he needed to keep control of the company even though E.J. has been convicted of a whole slew of charges ranging from conspiracy to fraud. I doubt h
e’
ll be making any trouble for ATH from behind bars, but giving my shares to Dom was an extra little insurance policy that h
e’
ll remain at the helm. He now has thirty percent ownership, more than any other person or interest.

Those were the shares he would have gotten anyway if we had gotten married. Tha
t’
s what was secretly bargained for in my infancy... so it seemed like the best thing to do to unload my legacy. I would
n’
t be an anchor weighing me down anymore. I was a free ship, able to sail as far away form here as I needed to.

I did
n’
t find myself going very far, though. I managed to get my job as mid-level coordinator over at the Family League thanks in part to my experience at ATH last summer, so I guess my time there counted for something. I traveled a little, but I found myself right back here, in this city. I could
n’
t bear to be away from my family. After many sessions with a therapist,
I’
ve learned to forgive them. They only wanted what was best for me, I know.

I found the courage to make my own path in life, to go after the things I wanted, regardless of how they played into othe
r’
s wishes. I guess you could say
I’
ve come full-circle.

“
Miss Lombardi, your table
,
”
 
the hostess extends her arm to reveal the beautifully decorated table.

My boyfriend stands immediately, moving to pull my seat out from the table as I make my approach.

I kiss him chastely as our hostess is standing mere inches away, but give him a conspiratory wink. He laughs at my shyness. But, takes his own seat and reaches for my hand. His touch sends a jolt up my arm, and I close my eyes to savor it.
I’
ve missed his touch, I crave it.

“
So how was work
,
” he asks, moving to pour my glass with champagne from the nearby chill bucket.

I settle in, unfolding my napkin to cover my lap,
 “
Long.
I’
m ready for the weekend. You
?
”

He hands me the filled glass of bubbly,
 “
Pretty good. You know, if work is taking that much out of you... you could resign
.
”

“
Oh? And
I’
m sure you have a suggestion of where I could go to work next
?
”

He laughs,
 “
We both know how that worked out last time
.
”

I know this man would support me in whatever I decide to do. I think back to a night months and months ago, when I told him words that I was sure would break his heart. He supported me then, gave me what I needed... what I wanted.

I needed time... I needed space. He gave me both of those things without asking for anything in return, without any assurances of where I would find myself at the end of that journey. It found me here, with nothing left to offer him but myself, my love. I told him a long time ago that I chose him. I meant it then.

I mean it now.

“
Have I told you how much I love you today?
,
” my nostalgia makes me sappy.

Dom smirks, clearing his throat,
 “
Pretty sure you did... Have I
?
”

I roll my eyes,
 “
Maybe
.
”

“
Maybe?
,
”
 
he asks sarcastically.

He pulls his chair out far enough to give him clearance to slide from his seat. His hand fumbles in his pocket as he drops to the floor, knee bent.

“
Maybe i
t’
s time I tell you again...
.
”

~*~

Meanwhil
e…
..

In an 8x8 jail cell, E.J. plots his revenge. I
t’
s war. He wants it all, now. He wants them to suffer. Dom can try and run from his famil
y’
s legacy, from what he was born to b
e…
but can you really run from your destiny?

WILL DOM TURN INTO WHAT HE FEARS MOST,

TO PROTECT WHA
T’
S HIS?

WILL HE BECOM
E…
..

BOSS

BOOK TWO IN THE CHIANTI KISSES SERIES

LATE SPRING 2015

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tara is a thirty-something newbie author from Long Island, New York. She's a voracious reader, a passionate writer and and obsessive junk T.V. aficionado. When she's not doing one of those three things she is attempting to garden, hanging with her hubby or partaking in some retail therapy. She enjoys connecting with her readers and is having a blast entering into this new world of publishing.

Tara loves any and all interaction with her fans. Follow her on:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tara-Oakes/1468537190061965?ref=hl

@Lil_Oakes

[email protected]

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