Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 68

Chapter Sixty–Eight

Genevieve walked into Mom and Pop’s. She waved at the familiar hostess and hurried past her toward the table she knew she would find

him.

“Dad Gen squealed, her face hurting from the excited smile splitting her cheeks.

Genevieve’s dad turned in his chair. His eyes crinkled to slits with his answering grin. Gen rushed forward. Gerome just managed to stand

before she launched herself into his arms. He sighed in contentment as they both tightened their arms around each other.

“Hey, Honey,” Gerome whispered into her hair while he stroked her back. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” she said, hugging him tighter once more before they mutually stepped back.

He held her at arm’s length, his eyes studying her face, missing nothing. “It’s about time you made time for your old man,” he

admonished with a shake of his head.

“I know I’m sorry I just…” Gen paused as she went for her chair. She glared at the man holding it back for her. Gen pivoted and turned

her glare on her father. “What is he doing here? It was supposed to be just us.”

Gerome rubbed the back of his neck and waved his hand. “Just sit down, Genevieve. Paul came to visit me and wanted to have dinner

before he left. I told him we were meeting up and that he could join. I haven’t seen him in months,” Gerome said, smacking Paul on the

back before sitting down in his own chair.

Genevieve continued to send Paul icy looks as he helped her into her chair and brushed her hair behind her shoulder. He leaned down and

whispered in her ear, “I had to think of some way to get you to dinner.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes and clenched her jaw tighter. In her father’s defense, she’d never told him exactly why things hadn’t worked out

with Paul. Perhaps if he’d known she’d caught Paul with not one but three of her close friends, he might have a different opinion on the

‘son he never had.”

“Whatever, I’m just glad to see you,” Gen said, reaching across the table to take her father’s hand. She decided she’d ignore Paul, and

focus solely on her father.

At least, that’s what she’d hoped. Within only a few minutes, Paul monopolized the conversation with football and his amazing life in Texas. Gen sat back, sipping on her sweet tea and glaring around the restaurant. She brushed the back of her neck, feeling her hair standing on end in awareness. It was a feeling she’d experienced since stepping into the restaurant, a feeling she’d yet to understand. With a sigh that did not go unnoticed by her father, she glanced around the restaurant. It was the only restaurant in town that served real southern food. Her father had discovered it a few months after moving her to New York and surprised her with a father–daughter dinner there. It became a monthly tradition for the two of them to eat and check in with each other… until she met Paul and he started coming

along.

Gen scanned the restaurant as another wave of awareness prickled her skin. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary until her gaze caught the sharp glare of a pair of honey, green eyes.

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Chapter Sixty–Eight

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Gen could no longer hear what Paul was droning on about. Matteo sat back in his chair observing her and the two men at her table. His face gave nothing away but she noticed the sharp tap of his fingers against the table. He looked breathtaking in a navy blue three–piece suit. The jacket strained as he rolled his shoulder blades. Just when she thought the situation couldn’t get any worse a striking brunette in a skin–tight red dress flaunted from the entrance toward Matteo’s table. She gave his cheek a quick peck before she fell in the chair

across from him.

“Gen? Are you okay?” her father asked.

Gen yanked her eyes away from the couple on the other side of the restaurant and looked back at her father. She followed his eyeline down to where she clutched her butter knife in a tight fist. She released her white knuckles, letting the knife fall to the table with a clink.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry. What were you saying?” she asked with a smile, trying to ease the tension. Paul glanced over his shoulder and guffawed when he too noticed the man in the corner.

Her father, oblivious to the mafia boss clocking them, returned her smile, reached across the table, and took her hand. “I was just telling

Paul here how proud I am of you.”

“There’s not that much to be proud of,” she joked.

His smile widened and he ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Yes, there is. Did you tell Paul you started your own business?”

“Not by myself,” she said, blushing slightly at her father’s praise.

“And she has this big new client who convinced my baby girl to come home to me. I have to meet this man and thank him myself,” her

father said with a decisive nod.

Paul laughed. “Do you really?” Gen’s eyes swiveled to Paul and she narrowed her gaze in warning. Paul leaned forward and his palm skimmed her thigh under the table. “Shall we introduce him?” Paul asked.

Gen brought her leg sharply upward, pinching his hand between her thigh and the edge of the table. He hissed and pulled his hand away. Her father’s eyes moved between the two. Gen shrugged and sipped her tea again.

“So, Paul, how is business going for you?” her father asked, smartly maneuvering the conversation.

Gen found herself looking at Matteo again who continued to watch her as well. The woman across from him was touching his arm and laughing. Gen scoffed. She tried to remind herself she didn’t care. He’d made his intentions clear by ignoring her all day at work and

having that little incident, whatever it was, with Mallory.

After her table ordered their entrees, and Gen swapped her tea for something stronger, she tried her best to focus on her father in front of her rather than the man who she wished to confront. As the dinner proceeded though, and the woman across the restaurant became more and more touchy with Matteo, she found it too difficult to concentrate on the conversation. By her third whiskey and coke, the woman was practically in Matteo’s lap. Then Matteo smiled at the woman.

The anger she’d been stuffing into a tight box in her stomach erupted. She’d never seen him smile at anyone but her. Not even his close friends got anything but a smirk yet this woman gets a full grin? Gen shoved her chair back catching not only her father and Paul’s

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Chapter Sixty–Eight

attention, but Matteo’s.

“Gen? What’s wrong?” her father asked.

Without breaking eye contact with Matteo she answered, “I need to use the toilet. Pardon me, gentlemen.”

Gen yanked her purse from the back of her chair and stalked toward the table. As she approached, Matteo sat back, watching her advance. The woman in front of him continued to prattle on. As she got closer she heard the woman talking about a body count and the need for

more ammunition. Gen stepped up to the table, and pivoted her body so she blocked the woman behind her. She crossed her arms and

glared down at Matteo who continued to be unreadable.

“Mr. Accardi, I would like a word,” she demanded.

“I’m busy, Miss Sinclair.”

“Now.”

Before he could answer she started walking off. She heard a heavy sigh and him apologizing to the woman named Beatrice.

“No problem, Boss. I’ll wait here,” the woman replied.

Boss?

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