Page 47 of Tainted Princess
I turned back to Vincent who was ignoring Emilio in favor of staring at my plate.
“Are you hungry, Vincent?”
His eyes snapped up. “No, ma’am. I’m fine.” But his stomach chose that moment to disagree with him. The tips of his ears turned pink. “Well, maybe a bit, ma’am.”
With a knowing grin, I slid the plate toward him. “Please, enjoy it. I need to watch my girlish figure, after all.”
“Oh, no. You’re great,” he said enthusiastically. I tilted my head and smiled slyly, and when he realized what he’d just said, a look of horror washed over his face. “I mean, just that, you don’t need to. Um, you know.”
Chuckling, I cut him some slack. “Thanks, Vincent.”
I watched him dig into the plate, devouring it like he hadn’t eaten in a week.
“So,” I said conversationally. “What are you planning to do for work, now that you suddenly find yourself a free agent?”
Looking up from the plate, I saw the worry flash in his eyes. “I don’t really know, ma’am.”
“Francesca,” I corrected him again.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tucked back into his lunch. “I will find something. Today, if I can manage. I can’t really be without work. My ma, she—”. He froze, frustration evident on his face.
“Tell me, Vincent. What about your ma?”
“Her medications. She needs her insulin. The Medicaid, it helps with some, but not all. She can’t work no more. I cover the bills, but you know.”
“The bills are stacking up.”
He sighed. “Yeah, they are.”
We lapsed back into silence as Vincent continued to eat, admittedly with less gusto than he was a moment ago. He was almost finished when I spoke up again.
“Can you speak Italian?”
“I haven’t since my granddad passed, but I could get by in a pinch.”
“What about a gun?” I asked with no preamble. “You know your way around a firearm?”
Vincent looked at me, seeming to sense the shift in our conversation, and I saw the change in him as it registered. He set down his fork, pushing his plate away, no longer the awkward waiter who had just been fired. I saw the strong man underneath. The man who was desperate to look after his mother. The man who would fight and scrape and do whatever it took for her.
Vincent knew who I was—or at least who I was letting people think I was. He did know Enzo, however, and now that he knew I was tied to him, he could see where my line of questioning was headed.
And he didn’t look at all afraid.
“Yes, ma’am. I can shoot. Handguns and rifles. My granddad made sure of it.”
“Good, Vincent. That’s real good.” His chest puffed up at my praise. “Last question, Vincent. Can I trust you? Because all the other shit doesn’t matter in the least if I can’t trust the man who works for me.”
Vincent met my gaze with an unwavering stare.
“Ma’am. Mrs. Argenti.” I frowned and he amended. “Francesca. You give me a way to look after my mother and I will lay my life at your feet.”
I didn’t smile, even though everything inside me was lit up with joy. That was it. Vincent was my man now. He’d do what it took to help me make Las Vegas work for me, and I’d make sure he never worried about his mother again.
Reaching for my purse, I fished out a hundred-dollar bill and laid it on the table. Standing, I tossed back the last of the whiskey and turned to Vincent.
“Well, then Vinnie. Let’s go,” I said brightly, heading out the door.
Following me out into the desert sunshine, Vincent asked, “Where to, ma’am.”
I tossed him the keys, smiling wide when he practically drooled over my ride.
“We’re gonna go see your mother.” I laughed at the stunned look on his face. “And you’re driving.”
