Kings of California. Maureen Child
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the land. I want the land. Simple as that. So what do you say?”
“Adam,” Sal started, pausing for another sip of coffee, “I don’t like selling land. What’s mine is mine. You know that. You feel the same way I do.”
“Yes, and that parcel is mine, Sal. Or it should be. It started out King land. It should be King land again.”
“But it isn’t.”
Adam quietly seethed with frustration.
“I don’t need your money.” Sal sat forward, set his coffee cup down and then stood up to wander the room. “You know that, and yet, you come to me anyway, thinking to sway me with an argument for profit margins.”
“Making a profit’s not a sin, Sal,” Adam countered.
“Money is not the only thing a man thinks about, though.”
Sal stopped at the hearth, leaned one arm on the heavily carved mantel and looked down at Adam.
Adam wasn’t used to being the one on the defensive in a negotiation. And looking up at Sal from the comfort of a too-soft chair made him feel at a disadvantage, so he stood up, too. Shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans, he watched the older man and wondered what Sal was up to.
“I hear an implied ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Adam said. “So why don’t you just tell me what you’ve got in mind and we can decide if we’re going to be able to make a deal.”
“Ah,” Sal said. “So impatient. You should learn to enjoy life more, Adam. It’s not good to build a life solely on business.”
“Works for me.”
Adam wasn’t interested in listening to advice. He didn’t want to hear about “enjoying” life. All he wanted was that last piece of land.
“There was a time when you didn’t feel that way,” Sal mused and the smile slipped off his features even as his dark eyes went soft and sympathetic.
Adam stiffened perceptibly. The worst part of living in a small town was having everyone for miles around knowing your personal business. Sal, he knew, was trying to be nice, so he kept a lid on the simmering knot of something ugly inside him. People thought they knew him. Thought they could understand what he was feeling, thinking. But they were wrong.
He wasn’t interested in sympathy any more than he was looking for advice. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. Adam’s life was just as he wanted it.
Except for owning that damned piece of land.
“Look, Sal,” Adam said slowly, quietly, “I’m not here to talk about my life. I’m here to make a deal. So if you don’t mind…”
Sal clucked his tongue in disapproval. “You are a single-minded man, Adam. And while I admire that, it can also make one’s life harder than it has to be.”
“Let me worry about my life, okay?” That sizzle of impatience he’d felt earlier had begun to bubble and froth in the pit of his stomach. “What do you say, Sal? Are we going to be able to come to an agreement?”
Sal braced his feet wide apart, folded his arms across his chest and tipped his head to one side, studying Adam as if looking for something in particular. After a long moment or two, he said, “We might be able to strike a deal. Though the terms I have in mind are somewhat different than you were expecting.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Simple,” Sal said with a shrug. “You want the land. I want something in return. And it’s not your money.”
“Then what?”
The older man nodded, walked back to the sofa and sat down again, getting comfortable. When he was settled, he looked up at Adam and said, “You know my Gina.”
“Yeah…” Suspicion rattled through Adam.
“I want to see her happy,” Sal said.
“I’m sure you do.” And what the hell did Gina have to do with any of this?
“I want to see her married. Settled. With a family.”
Everything in Adam went still and cold. He suddenly became hyperaware. He heard the ticking of the clock that hung over the fireplace. He heard a fly bumping against the bay window. He took a long, slow, deep breath and dragged in the enticing aroma of spaghetti sauce bubbling in the kitchen. Adam’s skin felt too tight and every nerve ending in his body was standing straight up.
He took another breath, shook his head and stared at Sal, hardly able to believe what he’d just heard—realization at what Sal could be insinuating hitting him like a ton of bricks. But the older man was staring at him through steady, determined eyes, allowing Adam time to absorb what he’d said. But how could he possibly believe the old man was serious?
Adam had faced tough negotiators before and come out on top, though. Today would be no different.
“I don’t see what Gina getting married has to do with me or this conversation.”
“Don’t you?” Sal smiled. “You’re a man alone, Adam. Gina is alone, as well…”
This was not going the way he’d planned.
Gina?
Married?
To him?
No way. He looked into Sal’s eyes and saw that the older man was absolutely sincere. No matter how whacked it sounded. Adam ground his back teeth together and took a couple of long, hopefully calming, breaths. Didn’t help.
“Let me be clear,” Sal said, shifting to rest one arm along the back of the sofa, like a man completely at ease with himself and his surroundings. “I offer you a deal, Adam. Marry my Gina. Make her happy. Give her one or two babies. And I give you the land.”
Babies?
Fury erupted within and turned Adam’s vision red at the edges. His lungs labored for air. His brain was covered in a mist of temper that made thinking nearly impossible. Which was probably for the best. Because if he took the time to actually consider what Sal was saying, who the hell knew what he might say?
He couldn’t even remember being that angry before. Adam wasn’t manipulated—he was the one who did the manipulating. He was the one who was a shark in negotiations. He didn’t get surprised. He didn’t feel at a loss. He was never at a loss for words, damn it.
And looking at Sal now, he could see the old guy was really enjoying him being confounded, which only made Adam more furious.
“Forget it,” Adam said, the words hardly more than a hiss of sound. Unable to stand still, he stalked over to the bay window, glared at the outside world for a second or two, then spun back around to face the man still seated on the couch. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Sal? Are you delusional? People don’t bargain their daughters for gain anymore. This isn’t the middle ages, you know.”
Slowly the older man stood up, narrowed his eyes on Adam and pointed his index finger, stabbing at the air with it. “This is not for my gain,” Sal pointed out. “This is for your gain. You think I would accept any man for my Gina? You think I value her so lowly that I do this without thinking? Without considering?”
“I think you’re nuts.”
Sal snorted a laugh that had no humor in it. “You want the land so badly? Do this one thing and it’s yours.”
“Unbelievable.” This was crazy. Plain and simple. He’d always liked Sal Torino, too. Who knew the old guy was off his rocker?
“Why does this seem so unreasonable to you?” Sal demanded, coming around the sofa to stand beside Adam at the window. Sunlight speared in through the leaded glass panes, dotting the two men and the wood floor with diamond-shaped splotches of gold. “Is it crazy for a father to look to his daughter’s happiness? To the happiness