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The front lock turned, and Saks groggily rolled out of bed to see who it was. He got to the door before it opened and yanked on the knob. Chrissy fell forward with eight plastic grocery bags looped around her wrists.
“What’s all this?”
“Breakfast, and lunch, and dinner.”
“You didn’t have to buy all this food. Here, let me help you.” Saks took six of the bags in his strong hands and walked them to the kitchenette a step from the edge of the living room. He put them on the counter that separated the two rooms. “What did you do, buy out the store?”
Chrissy followed him with a few more bags that must have been sitting outside. “Glad to see you found your clothes.”
“What?” He winked. “Not happy with viewing my naked body?”
“Ssh. No sex talk. You need to rest and eat food.”
“My nudity is sexy?”
“Stop fishing for compliments, stud. Where’s your frying pan?”
“I’ll give up my frying pan only under the condition it’s not to be used as an instrument of destruction.”
“Is it cast iron?”
“No. Aluminum.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then you can forget the ‘weapon of destruction’ designation for your cookware.”
“I’m not sure. In your hands—”
She laughed. “You’d better stop right now, Anthony Parks, if you want a woman to make you breakfast, which, judging by the bachelor state of your apartment, doesn’t happen often.”
Saks put his hand to his heart. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”
“Ack, Shakespeare again,” she snorted.
Saks pushed behind her in the cramped kitchenette, managing to brush his hips against her rear as he did so. Then he bent to a lower cabinet, pushing his bottom in her direction.
“Stop it,” she said, laughing. “Or I’ll swat that butt of yours for being sassy.”
He stood and handed her the pan with a grin. “I’ll just get the pan for you,” he said in all innocence. “I can’t help it if your mind is in the gutter. Sassy assy. That’s what you like?” He raised a brow as his eyes slid down her body. “I know I do.”
“You wish my mind was in the gutter,” she said as he pushed past her again. He sat on a stool at the counter and grinned at her.
“How’s your head feeling?” said Chrissy.
“Better now that you’re here.”
“That’s sweet.” She rummaged through the drawers until she found the kitchen knives, and cut open the bacon and started it on the stove. “So,” she said. “What do you know about our respective family histories?”
“You mean the Rocco/Serafini rivalry?”
“Yes. I have to be honest with you, Saks. I spoke to my grandfather today on the phone on the way back here. He wasn’t aware you were a Parks, and he flipped out on me.”
“How?”
“Like a ‘the deal’s off’ sort of thing.”
“The deal’s off? What the hell? Wait a minute.” Saks pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a button or two before putting it to his ear. “Ma? Yeah, it’s Anthony. Tell me. Why is Pandolfo Serafini upset that I’m a Parks? No, apparently, he hasn’t forgiven it, whatever it is ...No. You yell at Uncle Vits later. Tell me the story now.” Saks nodded his head several times. “I see... I see. Okay. Thanks, Ma.” Saks’ face twisted in anger as he slammed the phone down. “Damn Uncle Vits. What a shifty bastard!”
“What?”
“Well, the woman your grandfather wanted to marry chose my Grandpa instead.”
“Wait, what? All this bullshit these years between our families is because of a romantic rivalry?”
“Apparently so.”
“And your uncle concocted this plan, why?”
“Who can tell who came up with it first? But one thing I can be sure of: he picked me knowing it would tick off your grandfather.”
Chrissy cursed as she cooked the food. She looked around the kitchenette. “You don’t have a toaster?”
Saks shrugged. “Nope.”
Chrissy muttered as she opened the oven and stuck the English muffins under the broiler.
“Smells good,” said Saks hopefully.
“Madonna,” snapped Chrissy, ignoring the compliment. “Why are they engineering a gang war? This is ridiculous!”
“I have no idea. It does neither family good.”
“There has to be a long-term payoff.”
“Like being the major crime family in the state?”
“Like that’s going to happen. There’re at least six minor families ready to step up.”
“Seriously?”
Chrissy put the spatula on the counter. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“I’ve tried to stay out of the business,” said Saks.
“Maybe if you kept plugged in, you would have steered your uncle away from this crazy plan.”
“Me?” said Saks. “You’re blaming me?” He glared at Chrissy in disbelief. The last thing he wanted was to get involved Uncle Vits’ crazy plan. “You’re the one who said that you didn’t want anything to do with a Rocco man.”
Chrissy stared at him, her eyes wide, with the spatula in her hand again like she was going to swat him. Her mouth was open, but no words came out.
“You’d better watch that bacon,” he said, peering over the counter at the pan of frying bacon. “It looks like it’s about to burn.”
She shook the spatula at him and looked at the bacon, muttering as she swiped the pan off the burner. “Who cooks with electric heat, anyway?” she sputtered. She turned her back to him to grab paper towels from the holder but cursed when there weren’t any. “How’s anyone supposed to drain bacon without paper towels!”
Even Saks, who could count his long-term success with women on one thumb, realized this woman was on the verge of a meltdown. “Baby,” he said, “it doesn’t matter.”
“What? That I ruined bacon, or my life?”
Saks stood, not sure what to do, but wanted to do something, anything to get Chrissy to calm down. Though he was extremely aware that he was entering Chrissy’s war zone, he scooted through the opening to the kitchenette and wrapped his arms around her waist. “How is your life ruined?” he said gently.
Chrissy looked up at him with her liquid caramel eyes, and then closed them as tears spilled out. “Damn you,” she said, hitting her fits on his chest. “Damn you. Why did it have to be you?”
“What, baby? What’s bothering you?”
“You!” she exploded, pushing him hard.
He let her go, surprised at her sudden desire to get away from him.
“Move,” she said. “Get out of my way.”
“Why?” His eyes narrowed, and he watched her shift from weepy to full defense mode. What was going on with her?
“So I can get away from you,” she spat.
“I’ll move when you explain why.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be you or any man like you! I was supposed to fall in love with a businessman, a lawyer, or even an accountant. Not some broke-down biker who can’t be bothered to know his own family’s history.”
“So that’s it,” said Saks, fury fueling his heart. “I’m not good enough for the Mafia Princess?”
“Don’t you dare call me that!” she snapped. “That’s the last thing I want be!”
“So, it’s okay for you to deny your heritage, but not me?”
“That’s—that’s not what I mean.” Her face colored in her anger. “Oooh, just. Get. Out. Of. My. Way!”
Saks flung open his hands and stepped back. “By all means, Princess. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your very important career with very important people.” Saks’ tone was absolutely scathing, and Chrissy’s face turned even brighter.
“You know what? Call one of your club buddies to keep an eye on you. I have an important career to move up in.” She grabbed her bag and flounced to the front door, her blonde hair flying behind her. She slammed the door so hard the front window rattled in its frame.
Suddenly the apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Chrissy’s departure sucked the air out of the room. It hit him with the force of wind-tossed wave that she left and most likely would not come back. In a second all strength slipped from Saks as his anger drained, and he gripped the counter then the couch before he sank into it.
Saks wasn’t stupid, despite what Chrissy thought, and he realized he was in trouble. Not just on a personal health level, but on a family cold war level. He grabbed his phone off the counter and called the first person he thought of. “Luke, man. This is Saks. Can you come to my house? I need help.”
