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8
Enzo
“Come on, Blanca.” I hold the phone to my ear and swivel my chair around to look out at the Manhattan skyline. It’s a gloomy spring day and I’m thankful my lunch will be delivered so I don’t have to go out in the rain.
“What, did you lose at rock, paper, scissors?” my smartass sister asks.
“No. Why would you ask that?”
“Because this is the stupidest idea the three of you have come up with and my assumption is that you guys played rock, paper, scissors to see who had to tell me and you lost—again.”
“Again? I don’t lose any more than they do.”
Rain pelts the glass, and unbidden, the vision of a drenched Annie Stewart comes to mind. I close my eyes to try to clear my vision, but all I can picture is a white see-through blouse when she returns.
“Yeah, you do, but that’s not the point.”
Blanca’s voice pulls me from the daydreams about my assistant. I need to get a handle on this because I don’t screw around at work. It’s the one place I’ve always considered off-limits, but the flush that hit her cheeks when I told her I’d sent her flowers has been preoccupying my thoughts. I can’t help but wonder what her personal situation is.
What kind of girl is she? Does she screw around or only with people she dates seriously? She finds me attractive, she told me that yesterday. She’s hotter than hell, otherwise I wouldn’t be envisioning her without her clothes on, but no way am I risking my job for a piece of ass.
“Enzo!” Blanca screams, and I swivel back around at my desk, alert and focused as though Mother Gertrude had just snapped her ruler on the table during history class. “Are you listening to me?”
“Of course.”
“What did I say?” I can picture her now, copping attitude and jutting out one hip.
“That you won’t do it.”
“Dom’s the oldest, he should be first. You’re right about Mama hurting though. She thinks that you and Dom should’ve been married first since you guys are older than our cousins. Zia can’t stop bragging about her soon-to-be daughters-in-law. Mama feels like she did something wrong.”
“She has three successful sons. How can she feel that way?” I pick up my pen and tap it on the desk from end to end.
“None of you have ever brought a woman home. She thinks she didn’t teach you how to respect a woman, for one.”
I huff. “What makes you an expert?”
“Hang on.” There’s muffled speaking through the line. I’m pretty sure I caught her lunch order.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Out for lunch.”
For the first time, I realize that there’s clanking silverware and the other noises of a busy lunchtime restaurant in the background.
“It’s raining.”
“No shit, but I don’t have an assistant to weather the storm for me, so I have to brave the elements myself.”
“Make sure you don’t get soaked. Don’t want to get sick,” I say.
“Is that your way of buttering me up so I’ll get Ma off your back?”
“So it’s a hard no?”
“You’re incredible. Yes, it’s a hard no.”
“Fine.” My shoulder sags and I lean farther back in my chair. It was a ridiculous idea anyway, but I always follow through on my bets. “How’s the job going anyway?”
