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Lula
Lula had sat in her car for nearly an hour, just looking at the Zetticci’s sign before she gathered the nerve to enter.
There was hardly anyone there, just a few occupied tables. Frank Sinatra was playing through the speakers; it was a thin, tinny sound.
“Welcome to Zetticci’s,” the hostess said, snapping her out of her daze. She was young and uninterested with dark hair and big pretty amber eyes that made Lula’s stomach roll. “How many today?”
She panicked. What the hell did she do now? She hadn’t thought this through at all. Goddammit, Lu, she chastised herself. “It’s just me,” she answered pathetically and shook her head as she followed the hostess to her table.
“I’ll be your waitress today as well. Anything to drink?”
“Uh, just water is fine.” The hostess snapped her gum and walked away.
Lula let out a sigh once she was alone and tried to get her head straight. She was here, she just needed to figure out how to proceed. Breathe in. Breathe out.
She wished Dom was with her.
No, no she didn’t. She shooed him from her head. She could do this on her own. She had to.
When the hostess returned with the water, she folded her shaking hands and took her chance. “Can I ask you a question?”
She blinked and shrugged as if to indicate it was fine.
“Is Giovanni Zetticci here?”
“I don’t know, I’d have to go check.”
“Do you know him well?”
“I mean, he is my uncle, so, yeah.”
Her heart pounded, this girl was her cousin. She had a cousin.
“I hate to bother you about this, but I was really hoping I could speak to him today. Could you check to see if he’s in?”
The girl shrugged. “I can check, doesn’t mean he’s going to want to talk to you.”
“That’s fine, I understand. Thank you.”
And with that, she was off again. Lula felt like jumping out of her skin. Was this the right thing? Had she been too rash?
Probably. Dom would think so.
But it was too late now, she was here, she had asked to talk to the man that might be her father. She would introduce herself and just see.
The hostess returned after an excruciatingly long time during which her heart rate only continued to climb and her hands were now quaking heavily.
She looked bored. “He said he’d talk to you. Follow me.”
Ohthankgod. She took a deep breath and stood so fast from the table that she spilled her water.
Her hostess gave her a withering glance.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, trying to put the ice back in the glass. “I’ll clean it up.”
“It’s fine, I’ll get it, just come on.”
Hands dripping with water, she followed her past the hostess stand, through the kitchens, and finally to a paneled office door with GIOVANNI ZETTICCI spelled out on a large brass plate.
“Just knock,” her potential cousin told her and sauntered back the way they came.
She stood, staring at that brass nameplate. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Her stomach felt like it was in her throat. Just knock, she told herself, taking a deep breath and shaking out her arms. Just knock.
She lifted her hand, closed her eyes, and rapped on the door sharply.
A big, gruff, booming, “Come in,” made her jump.
She reached for the handle, willing her hand to stop shaking. It didn’t comply.
A few extremely long moments later, she finally pushed the door open and stood frozen, looking into her father’s face. His dark hair was greying and slicked back, his shoulders were rounded with time, and his gut threatened to pop the buttons of his cheap, ill-fitting suit.
He stared back at her with identical eyes. It sent a chill down her spine. The door closed behind her.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, not bothering to stand as she came in. He was looking at her so intensely she could feel his energy. It wasn’t comforting.
“I,” she started, having no idea how to go on. “I just wanted to ...”
He peered at her and she watched as a sense of realization broke across his features. His lips drew into a hard line and his dead eyes seemed to get impossibly colder. “What exactly do you want from me?” he asked, his voice had lost the boom, the openness it had had before. It was dangerous and low.
She swallowed. “I don’t want anything, I just wanted to meet you.”
He shot up from his desk, startling her. “What is it, money? Do you need money?”
Tears threatened and she shook her head in surprise. “No, no, nothing like that, I just wanted to introduce myself.”
She couldn’t understand why he was so angry. All she wanted to do was to meet him.
He was on the other side of his desk faster than she could blink. He was surprisingly faster than his gut would suggest. “You don’t expect me to believe you just wanted to come here for a sweet daddy-daughter moment, do you?”
She swallowed and took a step backward. “Really, I just wanted to meet you. I don’t want anything. I don’t ... I don’t need anything from you.”
He advanced on her angrily and she moved backward until she found herself trapped against the office door. Panic choked her and as she tried to reach for the door handle, she felt his hand go tight around her neck.
With a surprising force, he shoved her against the door and squeezed her windpipe closed. “I don’t need you coming around here making trouble,” he growled. “I have enough already. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know.”
Tears sprang from her eyes as his fingers tightened. Her father was going to hurt her. And there was nothing she could do about it.
––––––––
Dominic
When Dom and Mason entered the restaurant, Mason did a much better job at looking nonchalant than Dom. He was going out of his fucking mind.
Their plan was simple, Mason would distract the hostess by flirting while Dom found his way to wherever Lula might be. From there on, he didn’t have any fucking idea what would happen.
Thank fuck for Mason, who remained calm and charmed the cute hostess with little more than his Adams’ grin and a few effective compliments. He had her backed into the corner entering her phone number into his phone so quickly it made Dom’s head spin. The kid worked fast.
With her fully occupied, Dom slipped back through the quiet kitchens to where he could only assume there might be some sort of office.
His gut clenched when he smelled Lula’s perfume near Zetticci’s door and he paused wondering what the right move would be. Did he knock or just burst in?
A stifled cry just on the other side of the door made his mind up for him. Adrenaline rushed into his system. He stepped back, and with the full force of his muscles, slammed his body, feet-first, through the door.
The old paneling gave way and Zetticci stumbled back in surprise. Lula was on the floor, rubbing her neck and gasping for air. One look at the tears running down her cheeks and the bruise spreading across her neck and Dom lost his fucking mind.
“Who the fuck are you?” Zetticci demanded. “You can’t just—”
“The fuck I can’t,” Dom cut him off with a right hook across the jaw. Zetticci staggered back, holding his face. And before he could respond, Dom hit him again, this time an uppercut that sent him sprawling backward across his desk.
Lula gasped behind him.
He didn’t care; this fucker was going to die for putting his hands on her. Zetticci was limp on the desk and Dom grabbed him by the shirt to pull him up. “If you ever touch her again, I will end you.”
Zetticci laughed, blood spitting from his mouth. “Boy, you have no idea the connections I have.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answered. “I know everything.” He threw a collection of papers at the man’s face that included the photographic proof of his connection to Menotti and the Stella d’Italia as well as the letter he had written to the Chicago Police Department outlining how he was the most likely suspect for two unsolved murders. “If you come anywhere near her again, I will publish this. All of it. And your whole family will go down.”
Zetticci laughed.
“Laugh now,” he said, “you won’t find it funny later.” With that, he punched him so hard in the nose he heard a crack. Zetticci fell back on the desk and didn’t move.
He turned back to Lula who was crouching, trembling in the corner, tears raining down her face. She looked white as a ghost, her eyes on her father, unable to comprehend what had happened.
“Lu,” he said softly, “oh, my beautiful Lu,” he breathed and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay.” He kissed her tear-stained cheeks. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded.
He marched her out of the office, grabbed Mason away from his make-out session, and burst into the cold afternoon air.
––––––––
Lula
Lula cried and cried as Dom drove her across town to her place. She couldn’t quite process what had just happened, why her father would attack her, anything, really. All she knew was that Dom had saved her, and if he hadn’t ... she couldn’t quite come to grips with that yet.
He didn’t yell at her or chastise her for going to the restaurant, which was nice—she was doing enough of that herself. She should have listened. She should have known that he only had her best interests at heart.
“Will you,” she said as they pulled into her driveway. Her throat was so bruised it hurt to talk. “Will you come inside with me? I don’t want you to leave.”
His face softened and he grabbed her chin gently. “Oh, Lu, I’m not leaving you alone ever again.”
“Really?” she asked.
He ran his fingers down her cheek and looked deep into her eyes. “Really. Why would I leave the woman I love?”
Her breath caught and a wave of joy crashed over her so hard tears started falling again. But these were happy tears. She reached up and touched his jaw with a shaking hand and couldn’t keep what was in her heart any longer. “Oh, Dom, I love you too, I have for so long now.”
He let out a kept breath and smiled so wide she thought he had never looked so beautiful. “That is the best news I’ve ever heard, Tallulah Stanley. And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to take you inside and show you just how much I love you.”
She nodded, brushing the tears from her cheeks.
“Just say the word, my love.”
She smiled and felt her heart repair itself in one little whirl. “The word.”