Page 82 of Mafioso's Muse
Vaughn rose to kiss his mother. ‘Sorry I’m late.’ He made room for the tray on the table. ‘I had some urgent business to finish up.’
‘Antonio tells us you’ve been working a lot lately,’ she said as she sat down. Then her gaze fell to his red, swollen knuckles. ‘Leaning into particular tasks, it appears.’
He poured himself some wine. ‘I’ve had a lot on my plate.’
‘Is that why you’ve been sleeping at your office most nights?’ Paula asked with blatant disapproval.
‘Leave him be,’ Salvatore said, picking up his glass and raising it in the air. ‘Alla vostra salute.’
Vaughn and Antonio raised their glasses. ‘Salute.’
‘Cheers,’ Paula said with a playful smile aimed at Salvatore.
He shook his head in good humour.
‘I made you boys pasta con le sarde,’ Paula announced, gesturing for everyone to start serving themselves. ‘Friday night was always fish and chips when I was growing up. Look at me now.’
Salvatore appeared offended by the comment. ‘You want to make fish? We’ll eat fish.’
‘Oh, I’mmakingit, am I?’ She looked between her sons. ‘You both know how to cook.’
‘There’s a great fish and chip shop five minutes away,’ Antonio replied, spooning food onto his plate.
Salvatore tutted. ‘Your mother cooks better than anything you can buy.’
Paula winked at him, then smiled at her plate.
‘Tony, where are you with the new stage for the Star?’ Salvatore asked.
A mere mention of the theatre where Willow danced had Vaughn wishing he could leave the table. It had been weeks since he stopped going to the theatre to watch her, but she remained firmly imbedded in his mind. She was the one thing he couldn’t outwork.
Antonio finished his mouthful of food before responding. ‘Turns out the foundations are still in good nick. We’re just adding a new foam pad, surface, and trap door.’
Vaughn leaned back in his chair. ‘The stage foundations built in the1940sare still okay?’
Picking up a piece of salami, Antonio tossed it into his mouth and chewed slowly. ‘That’s what I said.’
Vaughn stared hard at him. ‘You checked it yourself?’
Antonio’s gaze was cold when it met Vaughn’s. ‘Are you seriously fucking asking me that?’
‘Enough,’ Salvatore said in a tone that made them both fall silent. ‘Your mother has cooked for you, and you repay her by speaking like that at the table.’ He narrowed his eyes at Vaughn. ‘You left DeLuca, left the business. Youleft. We supported you and defended your decision. Your brother does the job you didn’t want to do—the one you walked away from. Show him some respect.’
Paula reached out and touched Salvatore’s arm, a simple gesture that had his shoulders dropping a few inches as the tension was released. Vaughn understood the power of a touch like that. Willow held the same power over him.
‘It’s better now that you’re out of the business,’ Antonio said, his lips turned up. ‘You were just in the way.’
Vaughn caught the mischievous glint in his brother’s eyes. Rising, he walked over to the drinks cart and grabbed a tumbler and the bottle of scotch.
‘A little early—even for you,’ his father said in a disapproving tone.
‘It’s been a long week,’ Vaughn said as he poured himself a generous glass.
His mother frowned at the drink but didn’t comment.
Vaughn drank to quiet his mind while the rest of the family ate their meals and discussed everything from changes in council recycling policies to their butcher reducing the size of the lamb sausages. The scotch helped to drown it all out, but it didn’t block Willow from his mind as he’d hoped.
He’d seen her out jogging a few days earlier. She looked thinner than usual—paler too. Even from a distance, he noticed the light drain from her eyes in his presence. His first instinct had been to go to her, but to what end? It had taken all his mental strength to climb into his car and drive away from her. He had struggled to focus on work after that.