Page 20 of A Very Rossi Christmas
I bit my lip, stared hard at the ocean, and reminded myself that I knew who Joseph Rossi was. He was the oldest son of my father’s enemy. The future scion of the Rossi family, and therefore a man I should never have known as anything other than the head of another family.
A man who had once been my best friend. My partner in crime.
My first kiss.
And a man whose father would rather see me dead than alive. I knew for a fact that his father had taken contracts out on much of my own family. They weren't always fulfilled—my father's people were too good for that—but it didn't change the fact that Fat Jimmy Rossi had no love for people with my blood. People with my name.
His men had beaten Joseph to within an inch of his life when they found him with me, and I had no doubt that they’d done it on Fat Jimmy’s order.
Joseph was not a man I should ever have risked my life knowing. He certainly wasn’t a man I could afford to harbor feelings toward.
And besides that, he was part of my old life. A very dangerous part of my old life. I’d come to LA to leave that life behind, and Joseph Rossi suddenly showing up and pushing his way into my view didn’t change that.
I didn’t want anything to do with the New York mob anymore.
And that included Joseph Rossi.
Which was perfect, because I didn’t have feelings for him, anyhow.
As for the danger he was so concerned about, Caleb Massimo was a lot of things, top amongst them a Grade A prick and a guy with a hot temper. I’d thought more than once that he might also have had some pretensions toward the mob itself and might have thought that I was some sort of audition for joining the family.
I’d had to pull my gun on him to get him to back off, the night I broke it off with him, because he'd thought he was a tough guy, and thought he had a say in whether he had to let me go or not.
Which just proved that I could take care of myself. I’d spent the last five years watching my own back, and before that I’d spent eighteen years training with my father when it came to staying out of trouble.
If Caleb decided to make a nuisance of himself, I could handle it on my own. I didn’t need Joseph Rossi here playing the big man on campus.
I didn’t need him here messing with my emotions.
I slid out of bed and stalked toward the kitchen to make coffee, finishing the thought as I went.
In the final analysis, it would be better for everyone when he headed back to New York and forgot about me again. I just hoped he was planning on leaving soon, and without seeking me out anymore. Because I knew he was bad news, and I knew I couldn’t afford to get involved with him.
But knowing that with my brain and knowing it with my heart were two very different things. And I didn’t want him to come around and make it any more confusing than it already was.
12
JOSEPH
THE LAST NIGHT
The restaurant was so heavily decorated that I had trouble getting through the front door.
It hadn't been my first choice, and honestly I'd never even heard of the place before, but the girl at the front desk of the hotel I was staying at—the biggest hotel in West LA, thank you very much—had insisted that I try it, saying it was basically a California legend.
Personally, I doubted any place in California could make Italian food worth a damn—or Italian food that competed with its counterpart in New York—but I hadn't had any other recommendations, so I'd taken the name and address and called a cab.
If the decor was anything to go by, the food was going to be horrible.
The entire place was decked out in garland and twinkly white lights, and unless they were using some serious air freshener, those were fresh pine boughs rather than plastic.
They must have murdered hundreds of trees to get it done.
The thought brought an ironic smile to my lips. I was part of the mob, which meant murder—or at least killing—was part of my everyday life. I'd grown up with it. Lost friends and relatives to it. Seen it happen right in front of my face.
And yet here I was about to shed a tear for the hundreds of trees that had been massacred so this restaurant could try to dress itself up as a forest.
I guessed it was their version of decorating, though, and as I looked around and took in the addition of a red or gold ribbon here or there, and some Christmas ornaments tucked into the garland on the front of the hostess' stand, I started to see the theme. A row of nutcrackers marched across one of the beams over the entryway, and wrapped boxes—probably fake, but who knew?— sat in the corner, just waiting for some kid to think they were the real thing and try to open them.
