Chapter 8: Chapter 8

SANTINO

Santino woke to a light knocking sound. He looked down at the still-sleeping Presley curled up in his arms when he heard it again. He realized that someone was at the front door.

Quietly, he slipped out of bed and put his jeans on. He walked out to the living room and opened the door to find Elio standing there, his hand frozen mid-knock as he took in the half-naked Santino.

“We were getting concerned,” he said with a knowing smile. “I see that I interrupted. I apologize.”

“Concerned about what?” Santino asked as he scrubbed his face.

“You haven’t answered your phone, and the guys have knocked several times.”

Santino was immediately concerned. “Is there something going on?”

“No. Uh, your dad used to have us come get him when he was…entertaining.” Elio shrugged. “Two-hour limit.”

Santino rolled his eyes. “Okay, we need to get the crew together and have a chat. I’m not my dad.”

“Sorry, boss.”

“No harm, Elio. I appreciate the concern.”

A sleepy voice sounded behind him.

“Everything okay?”

Santino turned, nodding at Presley, who covered a yawn as she waved at Elio.

“Hello, Miss Stafford,” Elio said with a grin, taking in her disheveled look. “Everything is fine.”

“This—oh my god—this is not what you think. W—we were just taking a nap,” she stuttered.

“I don’t think anything, Miss Stafford,” Elio said, his grin growing wider.

Santino ducked his head to hide his own smile. She threw her hands up and stomped into the kitchen.

“I will leave you to ~enjoy~ the rest of your morning,” Elio coughed, covering his laugh.

“I heard that!” Presley shouted from the kitchen. “There was no enjoyment of ~anything~!”

“Yes, ma’am. No enjoyment of any kind.” Elio winked at Santino.

Santino shook his head. He could hear her mumbling under her breath as she walked from the kitchen toward the bedroom.

“Stop,” he muttered to Elio. “Nothing happened. We really did take a nap.”

“You…you took a nap?” Elio said, shocked.

“Yes, and I would still be asleep if you hadn’t gone all mother hen and needed to come check on me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Elio started laughing. “I’m leaving. Let me know when you want to talk to the crew, and I’ll arrange it.”

“We can do it in a few days,” Santino said with a glance over his shoulder. “I’d like to not bail on her again.”

Presley walked up, pulling her sweatshirt over her head and shoving Santino’s shirt at him. Santino chuckled and pulled it on. He thought he heard Presley let out a disappointed sigh.

“Not a word, Elio,” she said, pointing a stern finger at him. “Are you going to come in, or are you going to continue to give the neighbors something to gossip about?”

“You heard the lady,” Santino said, stepping to the side. “Come inside before the neighbors start burning up the phone lines and talking over the fence.”

The men started laughing. Presley groaned and started for the kitchen.

“I hate you both,” she mumbled. “I need more coffee.”

They followed her. Santino picked up his phone from where he had left it on the counter and saw several messages from Elio and the guys parked in front of the house, including a few missed calls.

Gia had also been blowing up his phone since last night. He’d have to talk to her sooner rather than later.

Elio spied the pink box sitting on the island. “You went to the bakery?”

“Yes.”

“Bombolini?” Elio peeked inside.

“What else?”

“She try to hook you up with her granddaughter again?” Elio asked.

Santino rolled his eyes. Presley laughed.

“Apparently, he’s quite the catch. He gets ~so~ many offers of marriage,” she teased. “I’m surprised you don’t know how big of a deal he is, Elio. Let me tell you, he’s definitely aware of it.”

Both men laughed till there were tears in their eyes, their shoulders still shaking as they wiped them away. Santino was enjoying himself—so much so that he almost forgot about the mess from last night.

A knock on the door sounded, and Presley stood to answer it. Elio sped past her and checked through the peephole.

“Who is it, Elio?” she asked.

“Some tall lady.”

“Oh, god. Don’t let her in!” she quietly hissed.

“I can hear you behind the door, Press,” a female voice responded.

“Shit, you guys go hide,” Presley said, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

“I know the code to your door!” the mystery guest shouted.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

The door clicked open, and in walked a six-foot-tall, older blonde wearing a flowing dressing gown over leggings and a long tunic. She held a pitcher and several martini glasses in her hands. It wasn’t even noon.

“Darling,” she purred as she swept past Elio.

Elio stood open-mouthed. Santino glanced at Presley, who dropped her head into her hands. It was proving to be a very entertaining morning.

“Why does it look like a ~Sopranos~ episode outside of your house?” she asked, flashing the handsome men a pearly-white smile.

“Oh god! I told you guys!” Presley stomped back to the door, ushering the tall woman in and pulling the blinds closed. “Close the door before everyone’s over here!”

“I’m hoping she got laid,” the blonde whispered to Elio and Santino as Presley strode back into the kitchen. “I brought cocktails to celebrate.”