No clue what to do or how to repair the damage, he felt helpless. He needed to get out of this house and do something. Anything was better than sitting in his den sulking.
“Addison, get your coat. We’re going into town.”
They drove around and he looked for any sign of Skylar’s car but found nothing. He wound up parked outside of Vincenzo’s. What would happen if he went inside?
He glanced in the mirror and his daughter smiled at the reflection of his eyes. “Are we getting pizza, Daddy?”
“Yes.” He shut off the car.
They entered the restaurant where Sinatra played from hidden speakers. Pots and pans clattered in the back and voices chattered from the dining room. A crowd was good. It meant less possibility of a scene.
“Can I help you?” A woman with black hair came out, her eyes shifting down as she tied her apron. She looked up and stilled. “Oh crap. You’re not supposed to be here.”
As the mayor, there was no hiding who he was. He saw the resemblance to Skylar in the woman’s nose and realized this was another relative, perhaps one of Vincenzo’s daughters, which would make her the sister of the man who punched him.
“Do you know where she is?”
The woman glanced back at the kitchen, then dashed around the counter. Her voice was rushed and low as she ushered him toward the front door. “Seriously, it’s not wise for you to come in here.”
“Nicolette, who’s at the counter?” Vincenzo emerged from the kitchen and let out a string of Italian words that could only have negative meanings. “You,” he growled.
“Mr. Marcelli, I’ve been meaning to stop by—”
“You’re not welcome here. Get out of my store.”
“Sir, if you’d just let me explain.”
Vincenzo reached behind him and lifted a cleaver off the counter. “Let’s hear it.”
Rhett paused, unsure if this man was really as crazy as he wanted everyone to believe.
“Can I have a fritta?” His daughter’s little voice interrupted, and Rhett panicked when she was no longer standing by his side.
The tension in the room shifted, and Vincenzo glanced down at Addison who was tugging on his apron. Vincenzo’s bushy eyebrows bunched and he put down the cleaver.
Rhett watched the transformation with stunned disbelief as the man selected a warm piece of knotted dough from the display and sprinkled it with sugar from a sifter, then handed it to Addison. “Here you are, bellezza.”
“Thank you, Mr. ‘cenzo.” She took a big bite and smiled up at him.
“Good?”
She nodded, white crystals of sugar clinging to her lips.
“And have you been behaving? Santi-clause is watching, you know.”
“I know. I’ve been good.”
The man grinned and pinched her cheek. Then he turned his eyes back to Rhett and glared. “You, in the back. Nicolette, watch the little one.”
Rhett followed the man through the kitchen where his wife and two other daughters were cooking. It was like walking to the gallows—and he feared it might be one-way.
Vincenzo led him out the back door, which was propped open so the cold air could come in. The man dropped to sit on an upside-down bucket, careless of the cold even though his shoulders were bare.
He popped a half-smoked cigar into his mouth and lit it, puckering his lips around the chewed off tip until the other end glowed cherry red. He blew a ring of smoke in Rhett’s direction. “You tell me your side. I already know my son’s.”
Rhett frowned. “Your son has nothing to do with this.”
“My son has everything to do with this. Skylar is his daughter.”
“With all due respect, Skylar is a grown woman.”
“She’s just a girl.”
“You’re wrong. She’s independent and smart and completely capable of taking care of herself. She hasn’t been just a girl for a long time.”
Vincenzo waved away his words. “Are you saying, if you were in Anthony’s shoes, you would have behaved differently? Think of that little bellezza out there.”
“I would have acted a little more civilized. Your son stormed into my home during a formal event, made a scene, and attacked me.”
Vincenzo folded his arms over his meagerly clothed, hairy chest. Unconcerned by the savage behavior of his son. Rhett wasn’t getting through to him.
“Mr. Marcelli, your son might have come with the impression that he was protecting your granddaughter, but he humiliated her. I’d never do anything to hurt Skylar the way he did.”
“My son’s been under a lot of stress with work.”
“That’s not an excuse. She didn’t deserve to be embarrassed in front of a room full of strangers.”
“You disgraced her.”
“I did no such thing. I respect her.”
“If you respect her, you wait.”
“Did any of you consider that she might not have wanted that? She’s her own person, capable of making her own decisions. We’re still figuring this out, but I know for certain that I never took advantage of her the way your family assumes.”