Tommy Gabrini 3: Grace Under Fire (The Gabrini Men Series) by Mallory Monroe

dignity and sophistication, as if we own the world.”
    “She
carries herself with great trepidation and indifference, as if we own
her.”  
    They
laughed.
    “We’re
super-gorgeous.”
    “She’s
not super anything.”
    “She’s
nothing,” Marie said.   “She’s
nobody.   She’s nothing like us.   What, I will continue to say until the day I
die, was Tommy Gabrini thinking?”
    Then
Deslyn thought about it herself, and laughed.
    “What?”
Marie asked.
    “Maybe,
just maybe, that he picked her because she wasn’t like us.   That as we prop ourselves up and deride and
excoriate her, we may just be, within our excoriation, revealing exactly why
Tommy chose her instead of us.”
    But
Marie would have none of that, not even as a joke.   “Nonsense,” she said.   “There is nothing about that former assistant
that could rival us.   It’s a mistake on
Tommy’s part,” she added.   “Pure and
simple.”
    Deslyn
sipped more coffee, and then nodded her head.   “Yes,” she said.   “A mistake.   Has to be.”
    Then
she sipped yet more coffee and tried, throughout their continued conversation,
to not look the other woman directly in her eyes.

 
    “He’s
here,” Peter Harpton said, and Amy Richards looked out of the window too.   They were on the outskirts of Seattle, in a
small, obscure motel, determined to keep the meeting as private as they
possibly could.   Tommy’s Ferrari had just
driven up, and he stepped out buttoning his suit coat.
    “He’s
hot,” Amy said, smiling favorably at him.   “You weren’t exaggerating at all, Peter.”
    “I
don’t exaggerate.   If we get him on board
we’ve got a treasure.”
    “A
very attractive treasure.   But you still
haven’t told me his Achilles Heel.”
    “He
doesn’t have one.”
    “Peter!”
    “Okay,
okay!   If I had to pick anything, I would
say women.”
    Amy
looked at him.   “Even after his marriage?”
    “Not
after, no.   At least I don’t think so.”
    “He
was a bachelor.   That’s not a
problem.   I want to know what is the
man’s weakness now.”
    “He
favors black women.”
    “So?”
    “He
married a black woman.”
    “In
this day and age?   Please, Peter, come
on.   That’s not a problem either.   Unless there’s something wrong with the
woman.   Is there something wrong with
her?”
    “From
all I’ve heard,” Peter said, heading for the door, “she’s practically a saint.”
    “Good,”
Amy said.   “Then her race won’t
matter.   We’ll just have to build up her
halo.”
    Peter
opened the door before Tommy could knock.   And they embraced heartily.   He
and Tommy were old friends.   He was glad
to see him again.
    “Come
on in, Tommy Tom,” Peter said cheerfully.
    “Quite
the digs you picked,” Tommy said smilingly, walking in and looking around.
    “I am
in Seattle, after all.   What do you
expect?   A fancy hotel?”
    Tommy
playfully choked Peter, causing him to laugh and hug Tommy again as he closed
the door.   Amy walked up, smiling too.
    “This
is one of the DC operatives I wanted you to meet,” Peter said to Tommy.
    “I’m
Amy Richards,” she said, extending her hand.   “Very nice to meet you.”
    “Nice
to meet you,” Tommy said as they shook.   She was an attractive blue-eyed brunette, tall and thin.   A Washington mover and shaker from how Peter
had described her.
    “Grab
a seat,” she said, and took a seat in the only chair in the room.   “We have lots to discuss.”
    Tommy
and Peter were forced to sit on the small, twin bed.   Amy pulled up her chair to face the men.
    “I
heard about your merger with Beltco,” Peter said to Tommy.   “Congratulations.”
    “It’s
not a done deal yet,” Tommy said.   “But
I’m hopeful.”
    “With
your art of persuasion?   You’re seal that
deal just as sure as I’m your friend.”
    “Speaking
of deals,” Amy said, interrupting them, “this is the deal.   We want you to seek the office of mayor