Page 30 of Sins of the Orchid
Adriano grumbled. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw her drive. New York City is a safer place without Amore Bennetti behind the wheel.” I glared at him in fake disdain but couldn’t keep my lips from twitching. He continued complaining, “Why do you need a license? Vincent drives you everywhere. Learn to drive in Italy.”
I leaned against the wall, still in my school uniform. “No.”
“I don’t want you to kill another beautiful machine,” Adriano whined. “You totaled my Viper, scratched my Mustang. We won’t even list your father’s cars you damaged.”
I glared at him. “Just stop being a baby and go get your helmet or body shield. You owe me. I might even buyyouice cream.”
My voice sounded more agitated than I felt towards my best friend, and it was all his brother’s fault.
“You are richer than the Kardashians and Steve Jobs combined,” Adriano grumbled as he went off, and I rolled my eyes at his back. “You should buy me ice cream.”
“Technically, my grandmother is,” I yelled after him.
Both Santi and Mr. Russo shook their heads as I remained behind waiting for Adriano to get ready.
“Business went well?” Mr. Russo asked Santi, the two shared a fleeting glance, and after Santi’s short nod, Mr. Russo went back to reading his paper.
Everyone in the Bennetti and Russo families always spoke in codes. I learned not to pay attention to it, though sometimes I couldn’t help but be curious.
“So, Amore, I gather driving is not going well?” Santi’s voice shattered through my thoughts. “Still, huh?”
I eyed him suspiciously. Was he making fun of me?
“I’m doing okay with it,” I answered him hesitantly. I wouldn’t give him ammunition to continue looking at me as a kid.
“What’s the problem?”
“I said I’m doing okay,” I muttered, slightly agitated.
He took off his jacket, then rolled up his sleeves, and I stared at his forearms. My gulp sounded too loud in the room. The gun holster was completely overlooked as I studied his physique. That right tattooed hand of his alone was attractive. Put it together with the entire Santino Russo package and you were doomed. Because his appeal was magnetic. There was something so unhinged in his controlled nature, so different from Adriano’s energy. My heartbeat raced and my ears buzzed with adrenaline. I liked Santi’s hints of his psychotic and unhinged ways.
Restless heat snaked through my veins. I didn’t completely understand this response to him, but I knew this crush on Santi Russo had to go. I should leave for Italy pronto. Pronto! Maybe Dad could allow me to go a few weeks earlier so I could get settled.
Yet, even as I thought about leaving, I regretted a future without Santi in it.
“Don’t worry, Amore.” Mr. Russo put his paper down, watching me. “I remember when your mother learned to drive. She was smart as a whip, but it took her a bit to get comfortable behind the wheel.”
A swish of air got stuck in my lungs.
“Really?” My voice sounded strange to my own ears, like someone else was speaking. “How do you know?” I swallowed hard. “Grandma said her driver taught Mom how to drive.”
It was true. When I told Grandma I was struggling with driving, she offered her driver, Anthony. I was tempted to take the offer when she said he taught Mom how to drive but then decided against it.
Mr. Russo chuckled. “No. Your father and I taught Margaret how to drive.”
“You?”
He nodded and went back to reading his paper. I glanced at Santi, but I couldn’t tell by his expression whether he knew this or not.
“Why would you both teach her to drive?” I questioned him, unwilling to let it go. “How did she get to know you both? I thought she met Dad in his restaurant?”
“She did,” he replied, lowering his paper. “Bennetti and I opened that restaurant together to clean money.” I frowned at that admission. “Of course, we are no longer cleaning money there.” I shook my head. It was the most I was ever told directly about this world. “She came and we both noticed her. Of course, she picked him.”
Was he telling me what I thought he was telling me? I wasn’t sure. I peeked around the corner to make sure Adriano couldn’t hear me. I wasn’t sure whether he should hear this or not.
“Ummm, Mr. Russo, are you saying…”—I searched for a word that wouldn’t sound too vulgar.--“... that you and Dad… hmmm… had a crush on my mom?”
He chuckled. “That is one way of putting it. It was what caused the wedge in our families.”
