Words of Lust (18 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Cara told him that Serafina had left.

“She asked me to tell you goodbye. She meant for good.” She looked at him with a serious face but he was floored.

“Was she all right? What are you talking about? What did she say?”

She sighed. “We said a lot of things, but I think you need to talk to her. It’s not my place to share with you.”

“Is it because I made her come with me? I know she wanted to go home. She said she was intruding on family but I bullied her into it.”

“I think you probably should have listened to her. You guys have gotten pretty heavy pretty quick, and she had her accident, and then this big family crisis. That’s a lot to handle.”

He paced back and forth, his feelings alternating between fury and an unfamiliar pain. He was forceful. He admitted that. And he should have been more sensitive to what she was saying. Listened to what she maybe meant beneath the words. She’d acted strange but he assumed she’d been up-front when she said it was about not wanting to intrude.

“You care about her.”

“Yes, I do. What, did you go talking about my dating history, how I’ve never brought anyone to meet the family before?”

“Sure I did. Because it’s the truth.”

“Maybe you scared her away, did you think of that, Cara? She’s young, she’s alone. We can be pretty intense.”

“That’s not the problem, so stop blaming me, because I didn’t scare her away. She’d already made up her mind to break things off before either of you got more involved.”

“But why, dammit?”

“It would be wrong of me to tell you. But—and I’m sorry—I think she might be right. Her reason—well, find her and make her tell you and if she refuses, then I will, but not before you try.”

His frustration was at the breaking point. He couldn’t believe that on top of everything else, Serafina had just walked away. Especially now, when he needed her, when they’d gotten past so much. There couldn’t be anything so bad or dark—not with the way he knew she felt about him. And she did feel something. He’d bet on it.

“I told her I cared about her. I meant it.”

“She believed you. And she cares about you too.”

“Did she say that?”

“Yes. She did.”

“I do not believe this is happening.” He dropped his head into his hands just as the announcement came over the intercom system that evening visiting hours were ending. “You’re making me crazy here.”

“Call her. Go see her. Talk to her. Then you’ll understand.”

His parents stuck their heads in and said good night, and they all left Rocco alone in the room to say goodbye to his wife.

He said nothing to his parents or brothers but stormed out of the hospital and drove home. He wanted to drive to her apartment, he wanted to pound on her door and make her come out and talk to him. Force her to tell him what she was so afraid of—why she would cut and run.

But he didn’t. It was after eight at night. He was pissed as hell, but she’d been exhausted and if he barged in on her he’d scare her. Better to get his temper under control and let her rest. He could go see her in the morning, because whatever the problem was, if she seriously thought he wasn’t going to fight for her, she was dead wrong. They were too good together.

He dragged himself up to his loft and once there all he wanted to do was have a hot shower, talk to Serafina and go to bed. He had to make do with two out of the three. Hoping she’d called, he checked his cell, but it was mute. He took a hot shower and then sat alone in the dark, listening to Chet Baker’s mournful rendition of “Every Time We Say Goodbye,” Cole Porter’s classic theme for the lovelorn.

Thoughts of the last few weeks ran through his head. Serafina laughing, refusing to back down against Boxer, kissing him beneath the moon that first night and coming apart in his arms while he was buried inside her. In the end there was nothing he could do to make the images stop, so he went to bed and lay awake for hours trying to figure out how she could just walk away from him and what they had.

Chapter Fourteen

“Good morning, Ms. Luca.” The day doorman, Tony, was especially cheery and his bright, cherubic face depressed her.

She’d slept until midday. Her body ached and she’d craved rest. Now she just wanted to go out and get a bagel and the Sunday paper and bury herself in her apartment until Monday, when she could distract herself from her misery at school.

“Good morning.”

“You had a visitor yesterday afternoon.”

“Really, who? When?”

“Afternoon time. He was not a nice man. He was very rude when I told him you were not here. He said you wouldn’t mind if he waited in your apartment, but of course I told him no.”

A chill crept over her. The shadow man had been nearly forgotten in the chaos of the last two days. “What did he look like?”

“Big guy. Like a big muscle guy only fatter. Black hair, mean, ugly face. Scary.”

For a minute she was so panicked she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Tony’s description fit Boxer to a tee. Could he be the shadow man? If so, he knew where she lived and had been watching her, stalking her. And the accident? She’d been shoved—could it have been him there in the crowd? Nick had said he was going to check with the police, but if he had found out something, he hadn’t had a chance to tell her.

“No, I definitely do not want him to see me, not in my apartment—nowhere. I know this man. He’s scary and I think he’s the one who’s been following me. You’ll tell him I’m not home and you aren’t allowed to let him past the lobby, right?”

“You betcha, Ms. Luca. I’m make sure all the men know and we won’t let him past us.”

“Thank you.”

Now, outside, she was nauseated from the terror. She looked around every few steps, checking behind her, across the street, scouring the area to see if she caught a glimpse of him. Nothing. No hulking lurker in sight. She hurried to the closest deli down the block, grabbed the Sunday
Times
at the corner newsstand and hustled back to her apartment. She had missed Nick every second since she’d walked out of the hospital the evening before, but now she missed his reassuring strength too. She hadn’t felt so alone since her mother died. She would have to be vigilant. She would stay away from crowds and be home before dark. What else could she do?

Once inside her apartment, even after checking the hallway before exiting the elevator, she locked herself in tight. She rarely did so during the day, but now she threw every bolt and tested them twice. Could Boxer get past the doormen? There was the freight entrance at the back of the basement. Could he get in there? She’d have to check and make sure Tony, Miguel and Eddie, as well as the weekend relief doormen, were all watchful.

Miserable and frightened, she wandered around the apartment, her newspaper forgotten on the sofa. She toasted her bagel, but it tasted like cardboard and she left it sitting on the plate on the table. She made another cup of coffee, which got cold, and in the end, when television didn’t distract her, as a last resort she pulled out work and began going through papers and booted up her computer to respond to student emails. There were dozens of them so it helped take her mind off Boxer, as well as the loss of Nick, and being alone again.

She had plenty to do putting together upcoming assignments for the Russian lit class, and a few of her more eager students in the Flesh and the Word class had turned in their group assignments so she focused hard and kept her mind off the slow passing of the hours.

It was after dark, and she was sufficiently hungry to put a frozen meal into the microwave when the buzzer sounded. She jumped, startled, and hustled over, almost afraid to respond. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the button but said nothing.

“Professor Luca? It’s Miguel in the lobby.”

“Yes? Is there a problem.”

“No, ma’am. I just wanted to let you know a man came. I told him what you said. That you were not home. He didn’t ask to wait, though. I told him you’d be a long time.”

“Was it the big mean man with the black hair?”

“I don’t think it was that guy, ma’am. This man, he had black hair, but he wasn’t ugly and mean. He was mad, but he wasn’t mean. He was not fat like Tony said the other man was.”

“Did he leave his name?”

“Yes, he left a note on a piece of paper.”

“What did it say?”

“It said, ‘Call me. Nick.’ You know this man? He is not a bad man?”

Over sudden tears, she choked, “Yes, I know him, and no, he is not a bad man. He is just a man I do not want to see. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course, Professor Luca. I understand. I will tell him you are not here if he comes back again.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good night. And don’t worry, I’m watching out for you.”

“That makes me feel better. Thank you.”

Nick had come. She’d hoped he wouldn’t. She hadn’t told the doormen to refuse him, only Boxer, but she was relieved they had. She couldn’t face him. It was impossible to know what Cara might have said. If his sister had told him that she couldn’t have children, would he still have come? She hoped Cara would consider it a private matter and wouldn’t say anything to her brother. He’d have assumed she was annoyed with him, leaving without a word. Perhaps better annoyed than knowing the truth. This way he could be angry, forget her and find another woman who would make him happy. One who could give him the children he deserved to love and cherish.

She left her phones off and plunged back into work. She was so engrossed, it was a surprise to see it was nearly eleven. With a headache and class at eight-thirty, she took a couple of aspirin and went back to bed. She was afraid to have her phone turned off in case of an emergency—such as a rampaging stalker breaking into her apartment—so she turned it back on. Then she lay in the dark waiting for it to ring. Wishing he would call, yet dreading the thought.

But by midnight he hadn’t. She should have known. He was too protective. Knowing she was recovering from her injuries and had to teach in the morning, he’d let her rest.

Or perhaps he had simply let her go.

* * *

He didn’t sleep all night. He had taken Friday off so on Monday he had to be back on the job by six-thirty. He felt like shit when he rolled out of bed and had to dress and drive to the site a few blocks from her building. The upside was he might be able to corner her on her way to school. Naturally, he got sidetracked by problems with a contractor and by ten realized that she’d already gotten past him. He also kept watch for Boxer, and to avoid thinking of Serafina, he concentrated on ways to get him out of the picture.

Lunch came and went. He called the hospital and got an update from Cara, and then tried to reach Serafina again. She kept her phone off during classes, so all his calls went right into voicemail. Her landline was unplugged, and it was obvious the doormen at her building had been told not to let him up, or even tell him if she was home or not. If he was going to get her alone to talk to him, he was going to have to trap her into it. He was hurt, but above all he was pissed. Her problem was obviously something painful and serious—at least in her own eyes—but to refuse to even see him or speak to him face-to-face was immature, plain and simple.

Having decided to mirror her routine, he’d visit her apartment building at the end of the day. He’d either corner her, or if he was very lucky, catch Boxer in the act of stalking her. And the fucker should be worried. If he got his hands on him, Boxer would live to regret it. Probably.

* * *

Every plan failed. By the end of the week he was beyond frustrated at his inability to track her down. The doormen at her building were staunchly protecting her. He never saw her leave or return home, but the upside was he never spotted Boxer stalking her either. He left a dozen voicemail messages that ranged from calm to raging, with no response.

He’d visited Cara every day until she was released and then stopped by her house in Douglaston after that. Everyone was anxiously awaiting Angelina’s release, which appeared to be at least a week or more away. Caution was the byword and while he sensed his sister’s growing depression at not having her baby home with her, it was safer to have her as healthy as possible before she was released. But he’d gotten a chance to see the baby several times from a distance and she was a little beauty.

Gia, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. Cara said she’d called and stopped by a few times, but otherwise, his baby sister was keeping a very low profile. Whether because of Serafina’s cutting him off, which Gia would no doubt blame him for, or because she was still mad about his run-in with her and her kinky lovers, he didn’t know. He was going to have to get her to sit down and talk too, but he’d tackle that after he dealt with stubborn Serafina. He could only cope with one female crisis at a time.

By the end of the week he decided to play hardball. He was determined to talk to her and convince her that whatever the problem was, they’d work it out. Together. He’d begun to doubt himself as the days passed without a sighting or word from her. He could talk sense into her, but if she refused to even see him, she was making it impossible.

His fail-safe plan was to stake out her apartment on Sunday. For as long as it took. He’d been at dinner with his parents on Friday, and they’d puzzled over everything with him. She’d be home on Sunday but at some point would have to leave her apartment. He’d plant himself in the lobby first thing in the morning and make like one of those guards at Buckingham Palace. He’d wait until she showed and then he’d make her talk to him.

Chapter Fifteen

Her pain remained crystalline sharp as the days passed. Her class load was insane and between work and fears about Boxer percolating persistently in the back of her mind, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep every night, only to drag out of bed feeling as drained as if she hadn’t slept at all. It got so bad that keeping up with her job was all she could handle.

Her doormen diligently reported to her every morning and evening. She’d had no further visitors, and by the time she climbed out of her cab in front of the building on Friday night she’d begun to hope the entire thing with Boxer was blowing over. Or maybe stress and her chaotic situation had made her imagination run wild. She struggled into the apartment, feeling exhausted, lugging two classes’ worth of papers that would be the last grade before final exams. The first week of May always signaled the annual mad dash by students to make up for lost time and weak first semester grades. They bugged her for consultations and makeup and extra-credit work they could complete before doomsday: the end of the term and final exams the week before Memorial Day. It was going to be a long weekend, but as she had done for the entire week, she settled down to spend the evening tackling all the papers. With an unappetizing microwaved supper and a cup of chamomile tea and the good, the bad and the ugly of student writing, she spent a quiet night in the solitude of her home, studiously avoiding painful thoughts of Nick Stellato.

* * *

She woke bleary-eyed early Saturday morning and sat back down with the papers. She was making enough headway that she could finish up and relax on Sunday. So it was with both trepidation and annoyance that she answered the buzzer at noon.

“Professor Luca, you have a visitor.”

“Is it a man?”

“No, miss. It’s a very nice lady named Mrs. Stellato. And it must be your lucky day because it smells like she brought you something good to eat.”

The last person she would ever have expected, and the one person she could not turn away.

“That’s fine, Tony. Let her come up.”

Hastily combing her hands through her hair, she gave up on improving her appearance, thankful at least, she hadn’t been lounging around in her nightgown. When a brisk knock sounded, she took a fortifying breath and opened it.

“Hello, Serafina.”

“Hello, Mrs. Stellato. Come in.”

Nick’s mother walked in and looked around with a maternal focus. “Small but very nice.” She held up her recyclable bags and pointed. “That the kitchen?” At Serafina’s nod she marched in and deposited the bags.

“Let me help you.” She squeezed into the miniscule room that rarely saw activity. The only equipment she ever used was the coffeemaker and microwave. Inside the fridge were only basics and condiments, and the freezer was stocked with Lean Cuisine and Healthy Choice frozen meals.

“My God, how do you cook in here? Oh, wait, I forgot, you don’t cook.” She gave her a wink before returning to unloading the bags.

The entire Stellato family was incredibly confounding.

“Would you like some coffee, Mrs. Stellato?” Unfortunately she caught the glance the woman gave her old, tired Mr. Coffee. Her watery brew wouldn’t hold a candle to fresh-brewed espresso.

“Bah. I’ve got something better. We need to talk, so I’m going to loosen you up. She pulled a bottle of beige liqueur out of one of the bags and held it up triumphantly. Bailey’s Irish Cream.

“My husband thinks this is a silly girl drink, but I love it and for you and me, it will be just right. Like a milkshake, with a kick.”

Obediently, she fetched two of her mother’s cordial glasses while her guest pulled out the ice cube tray and filled them with ice. She shook the bottle, then poured and handed a glass to her before returning to the living room.

“Come, we’ll have a few drinks. By the way, you can freeze this and it’s extra yummy. But it can knock you on your ass, so watch out.” She nudged her with her hip and chuckled, exhibiting a most unmotherly side.

She took the drink and followed Nick’s mom back into the living room, her nervous curiosity growing. They both sat and, for a moment, just sipped. Mrs. Stellato smacked her lips and then focused her sharp gaze on Serafina. Here it came. Was she going to be taken to task for hurting Nick’s feelings? All she could do was think before she spoke and hope not to make things worse.

“Okay. Now tell me what happened.”

“Sorry, I beg your pardon?”

“You looked terrible at the hospital, you talk to Cara and then leave without a word, and Cara tells Nick you don’t want to see him anymore. She’s not telling anybody what you said, not even Nick, and he’s wandering around like a wounded animal. So, talk to me so we can make it right.”

“Mrs. Stellato, I’m sorry, I really don’t think talking about this can help.”

“Lord, save me from people who think too much.” She drained her glass and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a full one. She took her seat and studied Serafina intently.

“Listen to me. I don’t know you very well, but I like you. I’m a mother. I’ve raised five kids, and I know a thing or two about boys and girls and human nature. You and my son haven’t known each other a long time, but sometimes one day, one hour, can be enough. The two of you are good together, and I think that’s worth trying to fix, no? What happened? What upset you?”

She shook her head in obvious frustration at Serafina’s continued silence. “I know from Nick that you are all alone in the world, that you have no family. That must be so hard. No one to talk to, no one to lean on and no one to share all the good things in life. But you are so generous. You are a wonderful teacher, and I can see that you care about your students. You’re a good, smart girl. You’ve helped my family. Not just Nick, but pitching in with Cara, and Gia is crazy about you and working hard because she respects you. You’ve had your own troubles, but you haven’t let them stop you. Now. I want you to listen to me. I am here to help you. I don’t judge and I don’t tell tales, and maybe I can help you understand what you’re going through, or maybe help some other way. Won’t you let me?”

Explaining herself to Mrs. Stellato made her cringe. She’d never understand her fears and how awful she felt about severing their ties and hurting Nick. On the other hand, perhaps if his mother could explain it to him dispassionately, he would understand.

“I don’t want to hurt Nick, Mrs. Stellato.”

“Why don’t you call me Amelia? We’re going to be confidants, after all.”

“Nick is terrific. Please know this has nothing to do with him. Not really. It has to do with me. I’m doing this because I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Let’s not dance around, girl. Spit it out. Cara says you told her to tell him goodbye.”

“I did.”

“Why?”

Deep breath. She gripped her glass and looked at Nick’s mom.

“I can’t have children. I was told many years ago. I’ve watched him with his niece and nephew and he loves children, he’s wonderful with them. He deserves a family of his own. I can’t give it to him.”

“Oh, my Lord, Serafina. Who told you this?”

“Doctors. Two of them, in fact, when I was fourteen.”

“What did they say was the reason?”

“It’s difficult to explain—it has to do with medicine my mother took when she was pregnant with me and the side effects they believe the drugs had on me. But it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I cannot have children—with Nick or anyone else.”

“All right, then. First, let me say this. Cara had a lot of trouble getting pregnant, every time. She and Rocco tried for several years and then had to see a bunch doctors for help. She had two miscarriages and even once she got pregnant, she had difficult problems each time. Just as you saw. This last time it was a happy accident after they’d actually stopped trying. If you want children—you—not for Nick or me, or anyone else but just because you want to be a mother, I will give you the names of her doctors and you can have more tests. Fourteen was a long time ago and maybe your condition has improved, or they have answers now that can help. Second, why don’t you trust my son to make his own decision? It’s not fair this way. Besides. How do you know he is so set on having children?”

“Cara said so.”

“Forget Cara. Listen to me. She’s my daughter, but I tell you she’s been obsessed with having babies ever since she was little. She drove poor Rocco crazy over it and she’d probably have a dozen if she could. But she just assumes that everyone is like her, wanting to have kids and lots of them. She’s been talking to Gia already, for heaven’s sake, about finding someone to marry and make a family with. And you can see our Gia is made of completely different stuff than Cara.” She shook her head and looked at Serafina with compassion. “Serafina, Nick loves kids, yes. But I’ve never heard him talk about getting married to have them. Sure, he probably just assumes his life will include children, but if he finds someone—you—and wants you in his life and you can’t give him children, he may decide that’s all right. He may decide being a father isn’t what he wants at all. He might decide that with all the orphaned children in the world, he doesn’t need to have them of his body. Honestly, I can’t tell you one way or the other, and that’s why you must talk with him.”

She had no response to the statement. She’d assumed he would feel so strongly about having his own family it would be a deal breaker if she couldn’t.

“Serafina, do you care about my son?”

That, at least, was an easy question to answer. “Yes, I do.”

“Good. Because I know he cares about you. Let me tell you something. He has never been a ladies’ man. The ladies seem to think so, but he doesn’t. I’ve watched him ever since he was in high school. He’s never gotten serious about any girl he dated, and he’s always had a good reason why. He wants a woman in his life who wants more than just a handsome husband who makes a good living. He’s a complicated man. And smart. He loves so many things. Take his house upstate. Do you know how excited he is you want to spend time there with him? He took a girl there once before and she hated it. She complained about all the things he didn’t have. Shopping, restaurants, room service, casinos. She even said she was afraid of the wild animals.” Amelia snorted. “Like what, killer deer?’ She threw up her hands.

“He told me about what he wants to do when he takes you there. All the things he wants to show you. He’s built that place with his bare hands and he’s dying to share it with you. I know my boy, Serafina, and he’s falling in love with you.”

“As nice as it is to hear that, he and I have known each other barely a month and I haven’t even seen him in almost a week. It’s crazy to believe either of us could really be in love. It doesn’t happen that fast.” Her pain testified to the falseness of her claim.

“Oh, Serafina, how wrong you are.” She got a secret smile on her face. “It only takes a moment, a single moment, and you can know.” Her tone carried the weight of great emotion. “You look into a man’s eyes, he takes your hand and smiles and it’s like you can see right into his soul. And your heart knows his soul and yours are perfect mates. It’s like lightning. It takes your breath away.”

She looked at his mother and recalled how bowled over she’d been by Nick, by the man, that very first evening, that first kiss.

“You want to know about fighting for the man who is the love of your life? I met Nick’s father when I was fifteen. He was nineteen and my father tried very hard to keep us apart. Santo was too old. Too slick. Not good enough for Frank Montana’s daughter. He had no prospects, he laughed too loud. My father had a different reason for every hour of the day. But me? Santo was handsome, cool, and when he touched me, I thought I was going to faint. My mother understood. She would just nod when my father screamed that I wasn’t allowed to see him anymore, but she never tattled on me. She knew I snuck out to see Santo, and she kept my secret. Because she understood. My father was a loud man, but he was a good man. He protected his family and he was a good husband. But she went against him because she knew it was right for me. My father did find out, but I was seventeen. I told him I’d leave home, marry Santo and move away. My mother fought for me. She told him, ‘Your daughter is smart and she knows what she wants. Leave her be. You can’t live her life for her.’ And he gave us his blessing. I’ve never looked back, and I’ve never regretted it. We’ve had trials, but we got through them together. We’ve never stopped loving each other. And yes, I see that blush on your face, and that’s what I’m talking about. My husband and I aren’t all that old, you know, and I feel just as young with him as I did at seventeen. I may look older, but I’m young in my heart and that’s what counts. When I kiss him it feels like it’s the first time—every time. So it never dies when you truly love and understand someone. It never fades or gets old. Here’s to love!” She drained her second glassful of Bailey’s and looked hard at Serafina.

Her heart twisted a little bit. What Amelia spoke of was the stuff of romance novels and fairy tales. Life wasn’t that simple. The course of love never, ever ran that smoothly and there were some obstacles it could not overcome. Still, she looked down at her drink and tried not to hope.

“You should give Nick more credit. Talk to him. Tell him the truth and let him make his own choices. Don’t throw away something precious. Those other women never made him crazy like this. You owe him, but you owe yourself a chance too. I think you are a strong young woman. Don’t lose heart when it’s something so important.”

The advice seemed harsh. She would certainly love to find a way to work things out with Nick and yes, she had acted on her emotions, without taking time to think. She’d been roiling with pain and she hadn’t thought things through. She’d taken the coward’s way out by not even telling him face-to-face. She looked up at his mother’s hopeful expression. Hope that her son’s happiness could be salvaged. There was understanding, and sympathy too. That made the difference.

She nodded. If for no other reason than she had to face him herself. Amelia was right.

“All right. I’ll talk to him and try to explain.”