“Right.” His voice was thick with sarcasm. “And do what?”
“Be with Gabriella. Make pizza.” Lizzy smiled. “Mop.”
Shane swore. “What’s in this for you? Are you working with my father?” He studied her. “Are you double-crossing me?”
“If I were, wouldn’t I have done it already?” his assistant asked patiently. “After all, you gave me all the tools to screw you over when you gave me that other assignment. Which is how I knew you were still redeemable.” She smiled, annoyingly. “Also, I knew that because of how sappy you were about Gabriella. Let’s just say . . . I trusted you, and you trusted me. Speaking of which—”
Shane’s cell phone rang, cutting her off. He glanced at its screen. His heart sank even further. He answered. “Jen?”
His secret ringer wasted no time getting to the point. Until now, Jennifer hadn’t given Shane much information on the pizzerias. Thanks to his relationship with Gabby, Shane had already had an inside scoop. But now, Jennifer did have some intel.
“It’s Frosty,” she said. “He’s been getting increasingly erratic over the past few days. This morning, it reached a crisis point. He’s the one, Shane. He’s working for someone.”
Jennifer named the company, a rival to Waltham Industries.
“A job that drew in this many fixers, especially in such short succession, was bound to raise some eyebrows,” Shane told her. “The pizzerias were weakened. They were attractive targets, ripe for a takeover by whoever pushed the hardest.” He wished he’d realized that sooner. His work might be shadowy, but it wasn’t undetectable to those in the know. He’d been so busy focusing on Waltham, he hadn’t considered rivals. “How much progress has he made? Robert Grimani has an offer on the table—”
“
All
the progress,” Jennifer interrupted, sounding worried. “The pizza oven, the tomato supplier at Campania, the online attack . . . every bit of sabotage has been Frosty, all along.”
“How do you know?”
“He let slip a few things. I’ve been keeping tabs on him, of course, but I wasn’t sure. Then I found his dossier. It contained everything. I brought it to your apartment.” Jennifer paused expectantly. “Didn’t you get it? I couldn’t hang around to make sure, and I couldn’t call to follow up with you until now. Frosty’s been with me since late last night. I figured no one was in danger as long as he was here, so—”
“What time late last night?”
Jennifer told him. It didn’t take a genius-level intellect to realize that Frosty would have had plenty of time to wreak havoc yesterday, then spend the night and morning with Jen.
“I got the dossier,” Shane told Jen. That must have been the research Lizzy had found and then hidden in her apartment. Shane swerved his gaze to meet hers. He mouthed
I’m sorry
to her. “At least I
had
the dossier. Gabby has it now.”
Beside him, Lizzy widened her eyes. She frowned.
“If Frosty finds out Gabriella has that information, he won’t be happy,” Jennifer said tersely. “He needs to cement that deal. He’s under a lot of pressure. He’s running out of time.”
Jennifer’s assessment made Shane go cold all over.
Do you really think someone is going to—I don’t know—do something to me?
Gabby had asked him when they’d found that note last night. Shane still believed what he’d told her in reply.
If time is running out for them? Maybe
.
Shane gripped the phone, intent and focused. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” he pressed Jen, wishing he’d been in closer contact. With Gabby constantly with him, it had been tricky to coordinate his ringers’ activities. In the end, he’d left them to their own devices, knowing they were professionals. “I could have handled this differently. I could have—”
I could have protected Gabby
.
“Because I couldn’t call you earlier.” Jennifer sounded brusque. And concerned. “Frosty didn’t leave until now.”
Oh no
. If Frosty had left, Shane didn’t have much time.
“What do you want me to do, Shane?” Jennifer asked. “I’m here. You know I’m ready for whatever’s necessary.”
Lizzy’s face posed the same question. She looked . . . fierce.
“I’m on it,” Shane said.
Then he cut off the call and headed out of Lizzy’s apartment, hoping to find Gabby before it was too late.
Chapter Eighteen
Gabriella had never felt less interested in making pizza.
All the same, not long after leaving Shane’s apartment, she found herself walking into Campania, being enveloped by its cozy, tomato-and-basil-tinged familiarity. It felt . . .
good
to be there. Comfortable. Peaceful. At this hour, long, long before anyone else was due to arrive (even Pinkie), Gabriella had the place to herself. She inhaled deeply, then surrendered.
This might be one of the last days she could be at the pizzeria, she realized. At least as an insider. If her dad’s plans to accept his offer went forward, Gabriella wouldn’t have Campania’s tables and chairs, redbrick walls, and ugly linoleum to kick around anymore. She’d be ousted from them all, just the way she’d suddenly been exiled from the future she’d imagined.
The future she’d imagined with Shane.
Because she
had
imagined them both together, at Campania and at the other pizzerias too, working side by side. She’d envisioned them closing up and going for after-work drinks with their crew—their friends. She’d pictured them sleeping together, going for runs along the river together, sharing Stumptown coffee and Baker & Spice almond croissants until they were too content and happy to remember any other way of living.
Giving a caustic exhalation at her own gullibility, Gabriella strode to the back of the house. It was even quieter back there. She could hear her own thoughts much too loudly.
Frowning to herself, she ditched the dossier. Now what?
Maybe work would distract her. She slung an apron around her neck, then wrapped its strings around her waist twice. She knotted them, feeling her heart flutter at the memories that gesture engendered. Her saucy apron fashion show for Shane now meant that she’d never again tie on a simple white chef’s apron without feeling just a little bit weak in the knees.
Damn him
. Damn him for abusing her trust. Damn him for making her naïve and stupid. Damn him for making her love him . . . all the way to the point of endangering the pizzerias.
Thinking of Shane’s sabotage, Gabriella went still. She shifted her gaze to the incriminatingly overstuffed dossier he’d compiled. She’d dropped it like a hot sheet pan on her office desk, as though it would cool if she left it long enough.
She knew she’d have to deal with it. She’d have to tell her dad what had happened with Shane. She’d have to admit that she’d invited a spy into their midst and then allowed him to trick them all. Just because it hadn’t
felt
like a trick didn’t mean...
It didn’t mean it
wasn’t
a trick, Gabriella assured herself, putting her feet in motion. She felt better as she left her office. Even better as she returned to the kitchen. Maybe she could call her dad later. Or go see him. They still needed to talk about the offer he’d received and essentially accepted.
It must have been Waltham Industries’ latest offer, made on the basis of Shane’s covertly gained information about the pizzerias, Gabriella guessed. She felt twice as credulous to have been taken in by Shane’s seeming surprise upon learning about her dad’s intentions last night. Shane had done a bang-up job of appearing
not
to understand that he’d essentially won.
Shane might not have been able to make Gabriella give up, but he’d won, all the same. Although she couldn’t help taking a sort of grim satisfaction in her own fortitude. She hadn’t known she was up against some kind of infamous corporate espionage expert. She hadn’t known she’d been sleeping with her own enemy.
Somehow, she’d managed to prevail anyway.
Not that that fact helped her forgive herself. It didn’t.
Finally giving in to the despair that had followed her there to Campania, Gabriella leaned on the make table, sightlessly staring at the sign on the pizzeria’s kitchen wall.
NO CRYING IN THE KITCHEN
.
Ha
. Today, her own rules and traditions could take a hike. They hadn’t done what they’d been designed to do. They hadn’t protected her or guided her. They hadn’t helped her avoid disaster or stay strong in the face of adversity.
They hadn’t stopped her giving her heart to Shane.
Even now, Gabriella yearned to see him, to touch him, to push him for answers and find out why he’d done what he’d done. But seeing him would be stupid. Touching him would be insane. Finding out why he’d betrayed her wouldn’t change the facts.
Shane had taken advantage of her. He’d
used
her.
Gabriella couldn’t possibly forgive him for that.
Even if she did have to wonder, as she stared at that battered no crying sign.... Was it her pride that hurt, because she’d been made to look vulnerable and weak? Or was it her heart that hurt, because she’d lost a person she’d really cared for?
She didn’t want to let misguided pride mess up her life a second time, the way it had with her parents. But Shane . . .
She just didn’t know about Shane.
Muddled and restless, Gabriella paced across the kitchen. Her gaze fell on the corner of the make table, where she’d gotten intimate with Shane, crazily and unprecedentedly. He brought out something so wild in her—so uncontained and new.
Maybe she was angriest at him for that. Because without him, she’d never have discovered those qualities in herself. Not that getting hot and bothered in a pizzeria kitchen was commendable, exactly, but it was . . . liberating. Because of being with Shane, Gabriella had remembered all the parts of her that didn’t fit into the chain of command and didn’t play nicely with others. Because of being with Shane, she’d risked . . . everything.
She’d risked staying and talking with her dad last night. She’d risked apologizing to her crew. She’d risked loving someone. She’d confronted her own demons, even when it was hard.
Then, when the going got tough again, she’d reverted to her old ways in a heartbeat, Gabriella realized ruefully. Because when she’d unearthed that dossier at Shane’s, she hadn’t
really
listened to his explanations—as convoluted as they’d been.
Instead, she’d run away. Just the way she always did.
She’d run, despite Shane’s urgings to her last night at her parents’ house.
Quit it. Just quit it, and see what happens
.
Today, Gabriella hadn’t done that. But how could she?
Shane had actually
threatened
her to get her pizzerias.
Lifting her head, Gabriella assured herself that she’d been right not to stay at Shane’s. Leaving had been the only way.
In fact, if she was smart, she’d call her dad
now
—
The pizzeria’s back door slammed, startling her.
Who could be here now? It was
way
before opening time.
With her heart in her throat, Gabriella turned to see.
The sound of the dead bolt being thrown on the pizzeria’s back door clanged throughout Campania. Shane confirmed that no one else was there. He inhaled, then walked into the kitchen.
He found Gabby alone, just where he expected her to be.
He couldn’t help shaking at the sight of her.
Gabby
.
Damn, but he needed her. He was so sorry to have hurt her.
Resolutely, Shane steeled himself.
“It doesn’t work to walk out on a man who doesn’t ever quit,” he told Gabby roughly. “That was your first mistake.”
“My second was not locking the door after I got here.” She jerked her chin higher. Her gaze was opaque. “You should leave.”
“Your second was not sticking around to let me explain completely,” Shane disagreed. He gave an offhanded wave, nearly collapsing with relief to have beaten Frosty to the pizzeria. “Don’t worry. I locked the door for you.” He hauled in another breath, then delivered Gabby a decisive look. “We need to talk.”
She laughed. “As a woman, I think that’s my line.”
“I mean it.” He strode toward her. “There’s too much you don’t know. Too much you don’t understand.” Shane didn’t want to scare her, but he needed to warn her. Frosty was built like a Mack truck and had just about as much heart. “Let me—”
“No. Let
me
.” Gabby straightened. She looked at him, almost seemed ready to touch him, then frowned. “I have work to do.”
“I’ll help you.”
She gave a mirthless chuckle. “No, thanks. Not this time.”
“I’m
going
to talk to you,” Shane insisted. “If I have to follow you around the pizzeria to do it, I will. You can’t stop me. You don’t know how tenacious I can be.”
“Oh, I think I do. But I’m over it. I’m over
you
.”
She couldn’t be over him. “I’m not over you.”
Shane didn’t know why he said it. He was there to protect Gabby from Frosty and all the threats he presented—not to profess undying love for her . . . no matter how real it felt to him.
Gabby’s eyes glimmered with tears. “If you’re going to be cruel, you can just leave. For good. Clean out your locker and—”
“I don’t want to.” Stubbornly, Shane held steady. This was familiar turf for him. It was fashioned of the same ground that had made principals, headmasters, and police officers order him out of the places they governed. “I have a family here.”
“A family of misfit pizzaiolos?” Gabby laughed. She swiped her hand over her teary eyes. “Yeah, I think you fed me that line once. I believed it, too.” Her gaze hardened. “Then.”
“It looks as though I’m not the only cruel one here.”
“
Don’t
try to make me feel sorry for you.” Gabby grabbed a kitchen towel. “For all I know, those childhood sob stories you told me were full of lies.” Her voice cracked. “Just like you were.”
Shane stared at her. “I told you the truth.”
“About what?”
“About everything except why I was here.”Looking hurt
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Looking hurt and exasperated, Gabby flung down her towel. “It doesn’t.”
“It’s all I have. Except fixing.”
His admission didn’t move her. Gabby folded her arms.
Wryly, Shane smiled. “I could make you forgive me.”
“Like hell you could. I’m on to you now. I can resist.”
“I could make you want me,” he persisted, locking his gaze on hers. “I could make you love me. Or near enough to count.”
Again, Gabby scoffed. But her gaze softened. “Near enough to count?” she echoed. “But that barely qualifies as love.”
Shane shrugged. “I have to take what I can get.” He lowered his gaze to her mouth, then lifted it. “I need you, Gabby.”
Almost imperceptibly, she wavered. She swallowed. “I—”
“But not like this,” Shane told her. “Not by fixing it.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “You
didn’t
just do that to me.”
At her outrage, he nodded. “I told you I could.” Shane hastened to add, “But I don’t want to! I want you to come to me on your own. Not because you’ve been persuaded. Because you—”
Love me
, he meant to say, but Gabby interrupted him.
“
That
,” she said, “will never happen.”
Then she turned her back to him and stalked away.
The sound of the walk-in door slamming punctuated her exit. It made it plain that she wanted him gone—and was willing to freeze to death to accomplish it, if that’s what it would take.
Shane swore. “I should have stuck with the fix,” he muttered to himself. “At least that was working.”
Then he went to the walk-in. Because if Lizzy was right—if homeless Aussie Bill was right—he
had
to do it.
Scarcely feeling the cold air that filled the walk-in, Gabriella slammed shut the heavy metal door behind her. Scowling, she stormed farther inside. She could barely see. She definitely couldn’t think straight. She was so mad at Shane.
She was so mad at herself for letting him fool her again.
She’d been utterly ready, just a few stupid seconds ago, to fall into his arms. To kiss him and hold him and try to make
him
feel better. What the hell was that all about? How could Shane keep
doing
that to her? How could he keep getting to her?
Because she loved him, Gabriella recognized. Whether she wanted to admit it or not. Shane knew it, too. That meant, perversely, that she respected him for stopping when he had.
God only knew what she’d have done if he hadn’t.
On that thought, the walk-in door jerked open. Shane came in. He slammed the door behind him, sealing them both in with the pepperoni and mozzarella and rows upon rows of bulk sausage.
“Frosty is the saboteur,” he said bluntly. “That dossier you found was his. Jennifer found it at Frosty’s place and brought it to me. The oven, the tomato supplier, the online attack, the threatening note—all of that was Frosty’s doing.”
Unreasonably, Gabriella felt sorry that Shane
wasn’t
still trying to make her admit her feelings for him. But then . . .
“
You
left that note,” she accused. “To scare me.”
“How could I? I was at dinner with you the whole time.”
“You already said you had accomplices. Jen. Emeril.”
Shane shook his head. “It wasn’t my handwriting.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be, would it? If you’re so good—”
“I
am
so good,” he said, inadvertently reminding her of his prowess in all kinds of areas . . . including making her smile. “I’m telling you the truth. I protected you last night!”
There was that paradox Gabriella had noticed earlier. Why would Shane threaten her . . . and then protect her? It didn’t make sense. All the same, she couldn’t give in. “If that’s what you want to call it”—she folded her arms—“go ahead.”