Defending Pacer - Hamilton T. J. (читать книги онлайн бесплатно без сокращение бесплатно txt) 📗

“Hey Ma, where are you? Do I have to tell you a thousand times, you need to keep this door closed.” He shakes his head.

The inside of the house is even more Italian than the outside. Cream marble covers the sprawling floor. Gold accents the wrought iron of the staircase in front of us. Crystal hangs above us in chandeliers, and deep reds cover the fabric of the chairs that take up the corners of the foyer. It’s enough to make Scarface himself insanely jealous.

“Ah Paciano. Nella cucina,” I hear her call out in the distance.

“By the way, Ma will try and break into native tongue as much as possible so I’ll have to keep reminding her that you don’t speak Italian.” He stops and turns to me. “Or do you?”

There’s that eyebrow control again.

I shake my head. “Not unless pronouncing the menu at your Uncle’s restaurant is considered being a linguist, then no, sadly. But I’ll do my best to keep up.”

He gives me a sneaky peck on the lips, and I continue following nervously behind him. A tall glamorous woman with thick dark hair that rivals Elizabeth Taylor’s and eyes that outshine Sofia Loren’s fusses around the enormous kitchen island. The collar on her light blue shirt is popped up, with a red and white striped apron covering her expensive-looking clothes. She’s not at all what I imagined. I was half expecting a little Italian mumma, complete with a headscarf. How wrong I was!

She wipes the sauce from her hands and holds her arms out wide, bypassing Pacer and making her way straight to me. “Oh come here, caro.” She hugs me tight and kisses me on either cheek. “Let’s have a look at you.” She holds me out in front of her. “I prayed for my Paciano. I prayed, and prayed. Every day. For you to come … and here you are.”

I catch Pacer rolling his eyes behind his Mum and I chuckle.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Fratelli. I bought these for you.” I hold the bouquet of blooms for her.

She takes them. “Thank you, bella. Now please, call me Ma. None of this Mrs Fratelli.” She tsks.

There’s an instant familiarity I feel around her. She puts the flowers in a vase and directs Pacer to put the platters on the table outside. I stay in the kitchen and offer my help, even though I don’t have a clue what I’m doing in the kitchen. But it’s a nice change to watch Mrs Fratelli in the kitchen.

“Sure, how about you help by opening the vino,” she says with a wink. “Glasses are just back out in the bar near the balcony.”

Just as I wander back out to get some glasses, two high-pitched squeals pierce through the air, followed by the pushing and shoving of a boy and a girl, no older than five. They continue shoving one another as they rumble past in a flurry.

“Nonna!” they shriek in unison.

A woman with silky dark hair flowing all the way down to her bum balances a baby girl on her hip as she yells after the toddlers in Italian. The both of us stand, staring at one another for a moment before she smiles wide.

“Chelsea. Hi! I’m Lucia, Pacer’s sister.” She holds her free arm out for me and I hug her.

“So great to meet you.” I kiss her on either cheek, and can’t help but be drawn to the big brown eyes of her daughter. “And who is this little angel?”

“This is my little Camilla.” She holds her out to me with one hip. “Do you mind holding her for a moment while I grab the food from the car?”

“Sure,” I say as I take the little darling in my arms.

She’s a solid little cutie and looks perfect in her little white fur jacket. She stares at me through her gorgeous long dark eyelashes while I stand slightly bewildered by the bustling family already. Lucia comes back through to the kitchen with a box overflowing with bread and vegetables.

She smiles at me as she passes. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the twins that you saw race through to see Ma.”

I nod. Speech has already failed me, and this is just the beginning. Walking back through to the kitchen, I find Pacer with the little girl twin in a football grip, while he holds the wildly swinging boy twin back by his head. Pacer catches me with baby Camilla in my arms and we both stare at each other for a moment. This is weird. I feel the smile rising, but it quickly vanishes once the boy twin stomps on Pacer’s foot, causing him to yell out in pain.

“Antonio! What did I tell you in the car?” Lucia grabs his face and fires off the rest of the sentence in angry Italian.

The little boy drops his eyes. “Sorry, Mumma. But Zio …”

“Eh!” She holds her hand out to stop him and points to me.

Pacer puts the little girl down and the two come over to me, standing shyly in front of me.

“Hello, Chelsea.” The two singsong my name together.

I smile back. “Hello. What are your names?”

“Are you going to marry Uncle Pacer? My mumma wants to know,” The little girl asks while pulling at her pigtails.

Lucia holds her hand to her mouth in shock. I am now definitely speechless … and still holding a baby … in front of the man I only confessed my love to last night, with his mother and sister staring at me—this is so many levels of awkward. Holding a baby was a very bad idea. Say no to holding babies.

Lucia rushes over to me, the crimson in my face definitely obvious. She quickly takes Camilla and scowls at the twins. “Kids say the funniest things sometimes.” She mouths sorry. “This is Antonio.” She points to the curly-haired little boy. “And the one with the big mouth is Anabella.”

Anabella stretches her mouth out wide, taking her Mum’s words literally. Kids are so strange. Pacer thankfully comes over to my rescue. “How about you come and help me with the cases of wine before the others arrive.”

Others. Why do Italians have to have such big families? Like this wasn’t bad already.

He holds my hand as we walk out and the Italian gossip picks up in the kitchen the moment we’re out of sight. Pacer chuckles at whatever it is they’re saying.

“Sorry about that. The twins are a real handful,” he says as he takes out the first case of wine from the car.

I take the box from him. “Yeah, I see that,” I say, trying to find the fun in that moment. Whatever that is.

“My sister has five kids. Two older boys to her late husband, Pauly. He was a pillar of a man. We were best friends from babies.”

“Were?” Dare I ask.

“Yeah. He was murdered in front of the two older boys, Giorgie who you met the other week, and his brother, Rico. Rico’s even quieter than Giorgie. Lucia re-married and this new husband is fucking useless. She thought by marrying someone who wasn’t in the familia, she wouldn’t worry about him dying. But those brats are the result, and her life isn’t the same.” He tips his chin in the direction of the screams within the house. “Her husband doesn’t respect her. I know he treats her like shit. She comes to ma’s at least once a month, upset.”

I don’t want to tell Pacer that I read about his brother-in-law dying the other night in the archives. He needs to be the one to tell me things like this. There are probably things I know about Pauly’s murder that not even Pacer knows. But none of the words I read can ever give me the emotion of the case that Pacer just delivered. I see the hurt in his eyes, the real in the situation.

“I’m sorry about Pauly. That must be terrible for her two older sons.”

“We don’t talk about it much. Ma doesn’t like us filling the house with negative spirits. She’s had all sorts of priests in here, blessing the house and trying to lift the curse she thinks we have on our family. That’s when Lucia found her new husband.” He sighs.

“So what does her new husband do?” I follow Pacer back inside.

“He’s a computer wiz. Works for one of the investment banks in the tech department. He’s a fucking soft-cock nerd, and my sister deserves better.”