When It Falls Apart (The D'Angelos, #1)(81)

“I’m going to celebrate by buying a car.” She leaned on the side of the desk.

“What’s wrong with the one you have?”

“It’s my dad’s. Not only can he not afford it, he’ll never drive it again.” Her brief euphoria faded. “I need to take it back to the dealership where he bought it.”

“When do we need to do that?” Luca asked.

Brooke grinned. “I wasn’t asking for you to give up a day.”

He pinned her with a stare. “You can help me, but I can’t help you? That isn’t how this is going to work, mia cara.”

This whole partnership thing was growing on her.

“It would probably be a good idea to find a new car before ditching the old one. I don’t need new. Reliable, something I can put a wheelchair in the back of if my dad needs to use one again. Good crash rating if I’m driving Franny around at all.”

Mari turned to her son with a smile, said something in Italian, and patted his hand. Brooke understood the words family and love and that was about it.

“Mama!”

Brooke laughed.

Mari looked at her. “I told him I approve of you.”

Yeah, that’s not exactly what she said, but likely the gist of it.

“If you want to return your dad’s car before you find the next, you can always use mine. Good used cars are hard to find.”

He had a point. “You sure?”

Luca did the stare thing again.

“Okay, fine. Thank you.”

Mari patted her chest; the gesture was becoming a thing. “Brooke . . . next Sunday, I’d like to invite your father for our dinner. If you’re okay with it.”

“He’d really like that. He can’t make it up those stairs, though.”

Mari shrugged. “We’ll use the grotto.”

“My father has no filter.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for family.”

Brooke exchanged glances with Luca. “You up for that?”

He laughed. “You just went head-to-head with my ex-wife. I can handle your father.”

“Point taken. I’ll invite him.”

“Wednesday for the car?” he asked.

It sounded like they had their week planned. Brooke glanced at the time. “I can pick up Franny from school.”

Luca huffed. “I approved Antonia to do that today.”

“I don’t like it,” Mari said.

“Franny asked me. She’ll tell me if she’s uncomfortable.”

Brooke unfolded from her perch. “I’ll get some work done then, get ahead before Wednesday.” She took a step toward the door.

Luca stopped her. “Cara?”

She turned.

He crooked a finger in her direction, and she walked back over to him.

He stood, kissed her, and smiled. “Congratulations on closing escrow. I know that was weighing on you.”

Her heart warmed in her chest. “Thank you.”

She walked away and as she did, Mari started speaking in Italian, laughter in her voice.

Brooke really needed to take some serious lessons if she was going to be a part of this family.



The door to Brooke’s apartment was open, almost as if her place was simply an extension of the home. She did that to keep an ear out for Franny, hoping to catch her and see how the brief trip from school to home with Antonia went.

She listened to music on her computer and had two screens going. The work for the Downes project moved along without too many hiccups. The team had a couple more weeks to complete the bulk of the work and be available for revisions over the next month. All in all, Brooke’s part of the job would be over, and she’d be ready for a new assignment . . . maybe more.

Noise from the hallway caught her attention.

She turned the music down, heard Franny talking.

Right as Brooke stood, she heard Antonia.

The door to Luca’s apartment opened, then closed.

Brooke considered interrupting. Then thought that maybe Franny wanted to show her mother her room, or her toys . . . her life.

Sitting back down, Brooke kept an ear for Antonia’s exit.

When it came, it was followed by something unexpected . . .

Footsteps walking up the stairs.

Adult footsteps.

Brooke felt Antonia’s presence before she turned around.

“Hello,” Antonia said, announcing herself.

Brooke turned, acted surprised. “Oh, hello. Can I help you?”

Antonia walked in without invitation and closed the door behind her. “Actually, yes.”

Once again Luca’s ex-wife wore heels and a skirt, a blouse that covered her shoulders but not her breasts. Well, it covered them, just not as well as it did her shoulders.

“Hopefully we can keep it brief. I’m working.”

Antonia looked beyond her. “What is it you do?”

“That’s not what you came in here to talk about.”

“No. It isn’t. I’d like to know why you’re trying to poison my daughter against me?”

“I’m sorry?”

“She’s calling me by my first name and said you told her to do so.”

Brooke felt a fight coming. “That isn’t how that conversation went.”