Sal Gabrini: His House of Cards by Mallory Monroe Page A

wait.”
    “Talk to her
before that press conference,” Tommy advised.   “She knows how to calm your ass down.   And that’s what’s needed here.   Calm.   A level head.   No blow ups on TV.   Our stock will plummet if you go that route.”
    “I’m no
fool, Tommy.   I know what’s at stake.”
    “So you’ve
got it under control then?   You’re going
to talk with the lawyers and get this thing settled out of court?”
    “I’ve got it
under control,” Sal said.   But he didn’t
give a rat’s ass about talking to any lawyers.   Nobody was running his name through the mud and expect him to settle out
of court.   He was taking whoever was
responsible for this smear to court alright.   His court.   “You handle Europe.   I’ve got my end covered.”
    “Good
enough,” Tommy said.   “I’ll call you when
I’m stateside again.”
    “Okay, Tom,”
Sal said.   He knew Tommy wanted to add
some term of endearment, like he loved him, but Tommy knew Sal was not that
kind of man.   Sal rarely said it, he
showed it.   They ended the call without
any further words.
    But when Sal
walked back over to his big office window and looked out, his anger only
inflamed again.   The media was treating
the news as if it was the biggest story in town and were already in a feeding
frenzy for comments from anybody who would give them something to quote.   An employee was trying to get through even as
he watched, but it was near-impossible.   The press had surrounded the person.   Sal looked harder, to see who it was, figuring it to be one of his top
lieutenants the way the media seemed so determined.   But when he realized it was actually Gemma
trying to make her way through that circling pile of flesh, his heart fell
through his shoe and his anger went through the roof.   He took off out of his office, hurried onto
his private elevator, and made his way downstairs, across the lobby, and out of
the front door.  
    He bulldozed
his way through the gaggle of reporters to make it to Gemma’s side.   Gemma felt a flood of relief when she saw Sal
reach for and grab her hand, and then hurried her through what she thought was
an immovable press of people.    And they
were hurling questions at Sal left and right.   Was he a racist?   Why did he
mistreat his minority staffers?   How
could a self-respecting black woman be married to a man like him?
    But for
Gemma’s sake, Sal ignored them.   He
wanted to cuss all their asses out, but he wasn’t going to put her through any
more drama than the press was already putting her through.   He pulled her against his muscular frame,
held her hand tightly, and used his other hand to push his way, bully his way,
through the crowd.
    They didn’t
speak to each other, for fear of being overheard.   They made their way through the lobby, with
Sal ordering his lobby manager to get more security out front, and onto his
private elevator.   And even then, it was
a general conversation.
    “Are you
okay?” he asked her, as he pulled her closer against him.
    Gemma
nodded.   “I’m okay.”   She looked into his eyes.   “It’s you I’m worried about.”
    Sal
attempted to smile.   “Ah, you know
me.   These fuckers won’t get the best of
me.”
    But Gemma
could see the pain in his eyes.   He
didn’t like this at all.   She placed her
arm around him.   That was when he looked
at her with that sincere, I-will-never-lie-to-you emotional look in his eyes.   “None of
that shit is true, Gemma,” he made clear.   “None of it.”
    Gemma
studied him.   And then nodded.   “Okay,” she said.
    “You believe
me?” Sal asked, as if he were a child waiting for his mother’s approval.
    “Of course I
do,” Gemma said with no equivocation.   “I
believe you.”
    Sal felt
reassured, although he didn’t expect anything less from Gemma.   But they didn’t discuss details until they
were in his office, sitting side by side on his couch.   Sal, in his business