With These Four Rings - Book Five: Wedding Bonus (Billionaire Brides of Granite Falls 5) (27 page)

Massimo replaced the note and checked the time on his dashboard. It was five minutes before eleven. Shaina had offered to accompany him, but he’d declined. He had no idea if the note was from a man or a woman, a shady character or a respectable person. He didn’t know if the person was local or foreign. And for those reasons, he’d declined Shaina’s offer. Yes, he was dying to know who called his mother that fateful day, and he would have loved to have Shaina’s support, but he had to protect her, and his family, from the unknown. For all he knew, it could be a hoax and he could be walking into some kind of trap.

Massimo pulled up the hood of his raincoat, slid out of his Lamborghini and made a wild dash for the entrance to the pizza shop. The delicious smell of pizza, along with some old memories assailed him. He took a quick glance around to find it almost deserted, except for a woman and a small child at a table in the front dining room, watching the television mounted over the bar area.

As the proverbial bell on the door jingled, the woman glanced up, and stared at him before dropping her gaze to the slice of pizza on her plate.
So she wasn’t his mystery meeting
.

Mass was amused as he watched her cheeks turn crimson red. She found him attractive. And he had to admit that she was attractive too. A few years ago, if he were between lovers, he would have gone over and introduced himself, and if she were available, he would have paid for a babysitter for the day, and then taken her to his lakeside villa. She wasn’t the kind he’d tote around in public on his arm, just the kind he’d have under him in the privacy of his bed for a few hours.

Thank God those days were behind him. Shaina, his sexy pussycat, his passionate wildcat, was all the woman Massimo needed, wanted, desired, could handle… He shrugged out of his raincoat and hung it on one of the wooden hooks near the door.

“Massimo Andretti?”

Mass turned toward the voice and grinned at the man behind the bar, an old acquaintance from high school. He would know that Roman nose and those hooded eyes anywhere. Big Boy’s Pizza was owned and operated by the Carboni family. Unlike the Andrettis and Andreases, old man Salvatore Carboni wasn’t steeped in Italian traditions. The only things Italian about the Carboni family were their name and their pizza shop—that didn’t even have an Italian name. And neither did any of his children, Mass thought as he walked over to the bar.

It was a wonder Salvatore hadn’t dropped the ‘i’ from the family name and Americanized it to simply Carbon, but then his children would be nicknamed
Carbon Copies,
Massimo thought, recalling his nicknames as a little boy:
Mass Production
,
Mass Destruction,
Sunday Mass
, and a host of other unpleasant
Masses
. Kids could be so cruel. “David,” Massimo said, giving his old friend a solid handshake. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, man. It’s been a while.”

“You disappeared right after graduation. Where the heck have you been?”

David rubbed the craggy beard on his chin and adjusted the collar of his plaid shirt peeking out from the top of his white apron. “I joined the navy, did a few tours in Afghanistan and Iraq. Got married, settled down in Rhode Island, got a couple kids.”

“Good for you. I’m sure you heard I got married. I have a little girl, Aria. She’s seventeen months old, and the cutest, smartest kid on the planet.”

David shook his head and grinned. “I’d just gotten back when the news broke about your engagement to Nia Sylk, only weeks after you broke up with that Gabrielle woman. I thought for sure Judgment Day was approaching. Massimo Andretti married? Now, after reading that article in the
People’s
magazine, I understand why you were in such a hurry.”

“Well, I did love Shaina when I married her. My father’s will was the catalyst that drove me, so it all worked out in my favor. Shaina is the best thing that ever happened to me. So what brought you back to Granite Falls?” He perched on a barstool.

“My old man asked me to come home and take over the joint. He’s getting on in years and couldn’t handle the stress anymore.” David shrugged. “How could I say no? This pizza shop paid for that expensive prep school my sister and I attended. Business is still good. It’s taking care of my family, and maybe I’ll send my kids to Granite Falls Prep. It’s a good school.”

Massimo folded his arms on the counter. “I remember you bribing your way through it. You had a reputation for promising the girls free pies for their all-night study sessions if they’d just flash their boobs for you, and sometimes even let you squeeze them.”

David chuckled. “Well, I didn’t have Andretti money, nor your good looks and charm, Mass. I had to work with what I had. Memories of those boobs kept me warm and sane many a cold lonely night in the desert.”

“You should send the women ‘Thank You’ notes, then, let them know they should be proud to have kept one soldier safe, and brought him back home alive.”

They laughed, then David said, “I know you didn’t leave the dry comfort of your mansion on the hill to come down here on this miserable morning to chat about old times. And it’s too early for drinking.” He opened a bottle of mineral water, grabbed two glasses from beneath the counter, and filled them. “So what’s your agenda” he asked, pushing one in front of Mass.

The tension in Massimo’s belly returned with the question. “I’m meeting someone.”

David narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “Business or pleasure? You know I have a dining room out back. I can give you some privacy if you want to mess around.”

Massimo jumped back with his hand up. “Oh no. Those days are behind me, David. I told you, I’m very happily married. There’s only one woman in the world for me now.”

“Hey, if that’s your story, you stick to it.” David picked up his glass and motioned for Mass to follow suit. “To old times, new habits, and business.”

The men emptied their glasses, just as the bells of the door chimed, indicating the arrival of another customer.

Mass looked up to see a woman, who looked to be in her early to mid sixties, shaking out an umbrella. She placed it in a bucket near the door and looked at him, before walking hesitantly toward him, a look of apprehension on her face. Her gray, thinning hair, damp from the rain, was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a black dress with a red and yellow flowery print, and clutched a black purse under her arm. She looked as if she’d just left Mass.

“Mrs. Marshall, what in heaven’s name are you doing out in this rainstorm?” David asked, as he came from behind the counter to hug the woman. “Aren’t there any pizza joints in Evergreen?”

“I have business, David,” she said in a voice that was slightly tremulous.

David’s eyebrow arched. He pointed from the woman to Mass. “This is your business?”

“I—I—” Mass had no idea.

The woman offered him her hand. “I’m the one who sent you the note. I’m Pamela Marshall.”

Mass shook her hand. “I’m Massimo Andretti.”

She pulled back her hand and gave him a
Duh
stare.

David scratched his head. “About that room in the back. Follow me.”

Mass indicated for Mrs. Marshall to walk ahead of him as they followed David to the back room, where about ten tables were set for the afternoon rush. From what he could remember, Big Boy’s Pizza was where many folks who lived on this side of town came for lunch after church on Sundays, while those on the other side headed to Ristorante Andreas. That was where he’d be meeting his friends after he was finished with Mrs. Marshall. The service at Granite Falls Community Church was broadcast live every Sunday, so he could watch it later.

“This should do.” David stopped at the furthest table in the back of the room. “I’ll make sure I fill up the front before I send folks back here,” he said. “They’ll start piling in in about an hour so.” He glanced out a window. “By then the rain should have stopped.”

“Would you like something to eat?” Mass asked Mrs. Marshall.

“No,” she replied shortly, and sat down in the chair David held for her.

“I’ll send in a bottle of water,” David offered.

Mass pulled a pen from one pocket and a card from another and wrote his cell phone number on the back of it. He pressed it into David’s hand. “Call me sometime. It’ll be nice to have that drink and catch up. Oh, and you have an open invitation to the wedding, like all Granite Falls residents do now.”

“Sure thing. I’ll dust off my tux,” David said on his way out.

Massimo’s chest felt extremely tight as he took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the chair across from Mrs. Marshall.
So this was the mystery woman behind the note
. He eased his weight into the chair and watched her clasp and unclasp her hands on the table. “You don’t need to be nervous,” he told her.

“I can’t help it. I knew I should have contacted you a long time ago, years ago, maybe after your father died, but I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Mrs. Marshall?”

“Your father was a powerful man. I’ve witnessed firsthand how he dealt with people who crossed him.”

“I’m not my father.” Massimo placed his hand over hers, and soon she stopped her fidgeting. “I’m not going to hurt you. No one will hurt you. How do you know my father?”

She took a long time responding. “I used to work at Andretti Industries when he was still alive. You were just a little boy then. You were so cute and pleasant. I liked your grandfather, too. He was nice.”

As a waiter brought in a bottle of water and two glasses, and proceeded to fill them, Mass reveled in memories of his grandfather. “What was your role at A.I. Mrs. Marshall?” he asked when the waiter left.

“I worked in the cafeteria in the daytime and as a cleaner at nights. I was a single mother with a young child to support. His name is Billy. I have two children now. Mindy came along much later.”

Massimo nodded, trying to maintain his patience as Mrs. Marshall gave him her family history. He cleared his throat. “Not to rush you along, but David said we only have an hour before customers start piling in. You said you know who called my mother the day she died.”

She leaned back into her chair and took a sip of her water. “Yes. Like I said, I kept quiet all these years because I was afraid. I’ve lived with this information for the last twenty-five years and each time July comes around, I get sick to my stomach.”

Massimo was out of patience. “Who called my mother, Mrs. Marshall?”

“It was Judith Carmichael. Your father’s secretary.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Massimo’s nails bit into his palms. He closed his eyes and swallowed back the bile that rushed upward to his throat. All these years he’d known it. He just couldn’t prove it. The voice of his father’s whore might have been the last his sweet mother had heard. He could only imagine what horrible things that woman must have said to her—horrible things that had caused her to faint, to fall to the floor and hit her head so hard she’d slipped into unconsciousness.

He pressed his lips together to stifle the cry of despair as his chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. When he felt that he could speak without cracking, he opened his eyes. “How do I know that what you just told me is the truth?” he asked the bearer of the news.

She pulled her handbag from the back of the chair and fumbled through it. “I never liked that woman,” she said, pulling out a small tape recorder and holding it in her hand as if it were a piece of gold. “She was an evil bitch. Excuse my French,” she added in an acerbic tone.

Massimo was taken aback at her vehemence. “Oh, I know French,” he said. “That’s not French.
Elle était une chienne mal.
That’s French.” What had Judith Carmichael done to this woman?

“She wanted your father and his money. She wanted your mother gone so she could move into her house, and she was prepared to do anything to get her way. The one thing she didn’t bank on was that your father loved your mother and you, and that for him, she was just a cheap piece of ass.”

Once again, Massimo was taken aback at the woman’s bitterness toward Judith Carmichael.

“I know what you saw that day you came to visit your father.” She paused to take a sip of water. “Judith knew you were coming, and she set the stage. She wanted you to run home and tell your mother what you saw, but you didn’t, did you?”

“I couldn’t hurt her, or embarrass her by letting her know that her little boy knew what his father was doing.”

“You were a good son, a sensible son. But she knew. We women know, and for one reason or the other, we keep quiet, accept it, hope it’ll go away. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t.”

Massimo eyed the recorder in her hand. “What’s that?”

She set it on the table, but kept her hand over it. “I taped the phone call. I don’t know if your mother responded to her, but—”

“She didn’t. I was there when the call came. She didn’t utter a word. She just went white as a ghost and then collapsed.” He stated the facts and forced himself not to revisit that moment, not here, not now.

Mrs. Marshall pushed the recorder across the table. “She was in shock. Once you hear what she said, you’ll understand why. I have to warn you, it’s nasty and filled with expletives.”

Massimo glanced at the little black device for a long time. Did he really want to know? Did he want that woman’s voice in his head? Did he want to remember the ugliness of the last words his mother heard? “What did she say to my mother?”