Billionaire Triplets Matchmakers Read online

  He wiped the fresh blood from his split lip as he took stock, patting his pockets. He still had his wallet. He opened it, relieved to feel the cash still inside. He felt a few other things, the folded invitation, the newcomer’s envelope from the GA meeting, but he couldn’t find his cell phone.

  “Damn it!”

  He was about to go back and look around the dumpsters for his cell phone when he heard men’s voices in the alley way.

  He decided not to risk walking back to the dark and isolated place and headed instead towards the front of the casino. He saw people coming and going, a greeter, and a line of cabs waiting to take people away. Staying low, he hurried to the first cab and let himself into the back, startling the driver.

  “Airport,” he said, keeping his head down. The engine started and the cab drove off. Antonio allowed himself to breathe.

  He sat back and stretched his legs onto the seat, his head propped against the window.

  The driver peered at him through his rear-view mirror and gasped as they drove under a street light, illuminating Antonio’s face.

  “Holy mother, you should go to a hospital, not the airport.”

  “No. No, hospital. I had a little fright, that’s all. I’m fine.”

  He didn’t want to go to the airport, but the strategy had worked before so he’d said it without thinking. As the cabby drove, Antonio tried to think of where he wanted to go.

  The hotel was out. The Italians would be looking for him there.

  A hospital would be nice, but the doctors would call the police and then he’d have to explain what had happened. What would he do then? Rat on the Italians? Not if he wanted to stay alive.

  He thought about asking the driver take him to the Torres house.

  Then he thought about Joan Edwards.

  She would look after him. She’d tend to his wounds.

  His heart ached with a need to be with her, to feel her loving touch, to be taken care of by her. But, no. He didn’t deserve her help after driving her to drink.

  If he cared for her at all, he’d leave her alone for her own good.

  Even if he could promise never to hurt her again and she forgave him, what about her older sister? Lissa was furious with him, which made asking his godfather for help another unlikely choice.

  He needed someone to help him.

  Maybe, if he could talk to Julio...

  But, how?

  He didn’t have a phone, and if he went to the front door in the state he was in Lissa might just call the police on him.

  Antonio went through his pockets again, hoping to find his cell phone. Instead, he pulled out the unopened GA packet and the wedding invitation. That was it!

  “Driver, I’ve changed my mind. How much would it cost to take me here?” he asked.

  The driver pulled over and looked at the invitation, then back at Antonio.

  Antonio had never been to his godfather’s new country house, but he knew that the village was at least an hour out of the city. He opened his wallet and took out all the money. “Is this enough?”

  The driver took the money, counted it, and nodded.

  Antonio blew out his breath, sitting back as the driver turned the car around and headed towards the country.

  “Can I help you sir?”

  He must have fallen asleep because he’d arrived at the destination.

  The door to his cab was open and a man was leaning in, giving Antonio a curious look. His jacket fell open, revealing a sidearm.

  “Sir, this is private property. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “I have an invitation,” Antonio said, fumbling for it and presenting it to the man.

  The man stepped away from the car.

  “You are Antonio Ferraro?” he asked dubiously.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have identification?”

  “Si,” Antonio said and he handed over his passport.

  “The guests aren’t supposed to stay here and the wedding isn’t until tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

  “Please, call Julio Torres, he knows me. Tell him I got mugged. I need to stay here. I have no more money.”

  “Please wait.”

  Antonio sat back, and closed his eyes, praying godfather hadn’t decided to cut their ties and end his commitment to look out for him.

  “Did he say you’re Antonio Ferraro? The soccer star?” Asked the driver.

  Before he could answer, the security man reappeared. “Do I need to pay the driver?” he asked.

  “No,” Antonio said. At the same time the driver responded with a resounding “Yes.”

  “Which is it?” asked the security man.

  “He was mugged, as you know. Since he’s a famous soccer player, I was willing to wait until later to get paid, but I’d rather have it now.”

  “Excuse me, give me a minute,” Antonio whispered to the security man, who had helped him out of the car. He walked with determination to the driver’s side of the cab, leaning down as he spoke in a low but angry voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I paid you already.”

  “Smile,” said the driver, clicking two quick pictures with his cell phone camera that flashed in Antonio’s face. “This will do,” he said gleefully.

  Before Antonio could reach inside and take his phone away the cab driver gunned the engine and drove away, taking the incriminating pictures perfect for tabloids with him.

  Antonio shook his head. Fanculo!

  “Follow me,” said the security man, giving him a curious look.

  Antonio followed him to an electric utility cart. “Get in.” He climbed into the passenger seat and held on to his sore ribs as the man drove him towards the side of the big house, then off through the vineyards.

  He stopped in front of a cottage next to a building that looked like the winery, took out a ring of keys and opened the front door. He turned on the lights, then ushered Antonio inside.

  “My name is Ruiz,” he said, handing Antonio a card that read ‘Armando Ruiz, Security’. There was a telephone number under his name. He took the card back, took a pen out a pocket and wrote down a second number. “This number is for the kitchen. If you want anything just call them and order it up. I’ll make sure the cook stays around another few hours.”

  Antonio accepted the card again and felt his throat thicken with gratitude.

  Ruiz continued. “Mr. Torres wanted me to tell you that a doctor will be arriving soon. Is there anything I can get you until then?”

  “No, thank you This is more than I deserve.”

  After Ruiz left, Antonio called the number on the back of the card and ordered food - soup and a sandwich. He also asked for beer and hoped that the doctor would bring pain pills. He sat gingerly down in a stuffed chair near the window and looked out into the night sky.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to his God in the sky.

  He’d prayed for help and, so far, God was coming through. But would he be able to stick to his part of the deal? How many times before had he sworn he would quit gambling? Would this time be any different?

  Yes.

  He wouldn’t try this time to stop on his own. He’d get help.

  He took out the GA newcomers package and opened it up, finding the phone list.

  He wanted to talk to Elbow Patches, and wished he could remember his name. He scanned the other names on the list and smiled when he saw Pablo R’s name. He remembered Pablo, the one who’d shared about his addiction to Vince’s vice, Roulette.

  He called.

  “Halo?”

  “Hey, Pablo, it’s Antonio-I mean, Tony. From GA?” he said in English, hoping that would immediately place him in Pablo’s mind.

  “Hi ya Tony, what’s shakin?’” Pablo said, trying out his best American English.

  Antonio tried to laugh but his throat was too dry. His voice cracked with emotion as he tried to speak. He wasn’t used to asking people for help.

  “I just wanted to talk...” he began, “To talk
to someone about how to stop gambling, and I couldn’t remember the name of the guy that ran the meeting. You know, the guy with the elbow patches on his jacket?”

  Pablo was there for him, encouraging him to talk. He told him that the man he was referring to was named Ernesto and he conferenced him into the call.

  The two men listened, encouraging him to tell them what was on his mind.

  For the first time in a long time, Antonio didn’t make up lies or sugar coat the truth. He laid out in detail the sad facts of his recent days.

  The three men spoke for over an hour, listening to Antonio tell his entire sad saga and giving him examples of their own exploits prior to getting a clue and putting an end to the self-destructive rat race of compulsive gambling.

  A knock on his door made Antonio end his call, but he promised to call them both back.

  He expected to see Ruiz and a doctor, but to his surprise, Julio Torres stood there.

  “Julio?”

  Julio came forward and held his nephew’s shoulders, face wrinkled in worry.

  “Holy sainted mother, Antonio, who did this to you?

  Doctor, please.”

  He stepped back so a grave-looking doctor could come into the room. Antonio was asked to sit on the edge of his bed and the doctor pulled up a chair.

  While he examined and dressed Antonio’s wounds Julio tried to get Antonio to tell him what had happened.

  Antonio nodded towards the doctor, saying, “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

  Julio understood and sat back. Half an hour later Antonio was given painkiller and instructions to rest. Julio walked the doctor out, thanking him, and came back.

  “What happened?” Julio said.

  Antonio was about to begin sharing at least some of the truth when Julio’s telephone rang. He listened to the caller, then hung up. “Excuse me. I’ve got to go, but you can fill me in later. Is there anything you need now?”

  Antonio thought for a minute.

  “Yes, there is something.”

  “What?”

  “Can you please tell your fiance that I didn’t get Joan drunk? I swear it.”

  “I’ll tell her, but I’m not sure it’s going to help.”

  “Will you tell Joan, if you see her, that I’m sorry I left her alone at the hotel? Tell her...”

  He trailed off, feeling miserable again.

  Julio came over and squeezed his unbruised shoulder. “Tell you what - why don’t you tell her yourself? The whole family will be here tomorrow.”

  Antonio swallowed a lump in his throat as Julio started for the door. “Julio,” he called out. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because you’re family, Antonio. Because you’re family.”

  Antonio appreciated the sentiment, even if it wasn’t true. He’d never understood why Julio’s father had taken such an interest in an old Air Force buddy’s child, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  IN THE MAJESTIC HOTEL Joan and her sister waited impatiently for Julio in the restaurant. Lissa called Julio when he was over thirty minutes late. The conversation was short, and when she hung up, Lissa looked upset.

  “What’s wrong? Isn’t he coming?”

  “He said he was on his way, but he wouldn’t tell me where he was or why he was late.”

  The waiter came and Joan said, “Look, I’m not hungry. I think I want to just go back to mom’s suite and get some sleep. Can you give Julio my best when he gets here?”

  Lissa reluctantly agreed and Joan started to gather up her things, but a voice stopped her.

  “There you are!”

  “Mamacita? Aunt Sophia?” Lissa said, as surprised as Joan to see the two older women who had just come into the restaurant - especially since they were each pushing strollers containing her three children.

  Aunt Sophia had the double stroller and she couldn’t get through the crowd of tables, but Mamacita made it to the table.

  The agitated maître d’ trailed after her. “Madam, I’m so sorry but we don’t have seating for you and your – ah hem – children.”

  “Silence, young man. I’m having dinner with my daughters. Make room for us, immediately, unless you want me to complain to my son, Julio Torres.”

  The maître d’s eyes widened, but then he stuck out his chin defiantly. “I’m sorry Señora, but it’s not possible to have both strollers in this space.”

  “Fine,” Mamicita huffed. She scooped Hunter out of his stroller and handed the diaper bag to Lissa and the baby to Joan, who’d already risen and was standing by to help.

  “Hello, Hunter,” Joan said as she heaved the growing baby onto her hip.

  Hunter looked up at her and smiled. Her heart skipped a beat and she breathed in his scent. He was powdered and recently bathed. Mamacita and Aunt Sophia had taken good care of them.

  The maître d’ sent one of the busboys away with the empty stroller to park in the coat check room, tables were moved, and the restaurant got back to normal.

  Joan decided to stay, curious why Mamacita and Aunt Sophia had come out with the three boys.

  “Mamacita,” Lissa asked, after the two older ladies settled into their seats, “What are you doing here?”

  “I couldn’t handle the children on my own and Aunt Sophia has to leave, her best friend broke her hip. Sophia must go.’

  “I’m a so a sorry,” Aunt Sophia said in her broken English.

  Lissa leaned forward and took both of Aunt Sophia’s wrinkled, chubby hands in her own. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’ve been a total angel, helping us the way you have. Go to your friend and don’t worry about missing the wedding. We’ll have tons of pictures and videos. I promise.”

  “Gracias,” she said.

  “So it’ll just be you, me and my mother,” Joan said to Mamacita with a crooked grin, knowing that Mamacita and her mother hadn’t exactly become friends yet.

  Mamacita slid her glance to Lissa, looking uncomfortable.

  “What?” Joan asked, wondering what those looks were about.

  Lissa said, “Actually, Joan, I was going to tell you after Julio got here, but..”

  “But, what?” Joan said, feeling her heart sink. Was Lissa going to fire her after all?

  “I hired another nanny,” she began.

  Joan’s face must have shown her disappointment, because Lissa immediately tried to explain. “She’s not the permanent nanny, just a back-up. A helper. And...” she leaned forward, whispering. “There’s something else, but I can’t tell you here.” Louder, she said, “I appreciate your mother wanting to help, but I know she has a filming date next week so it only seemed right to have an extra pair of capable hands around. You can see how good she is and if you like her, let me know. Perhaps she can come to work for us full time after the honeymoon, give you more time to yourself...” She winked at Joan, not wanting to let Mamacita in on her plan to move to New York before she was ready.

  Joan also thought that her sister might hope she’d change her mind and decide to stay. She appreciated her sister’s thoughtfulness and understood her actions. In light of Aunt Sophia being gone for who knew how long, she was grateful that her sister already had a backup plan.

  Lissa’s phone rang and she answered quickly, shushing everyone.

  “What do you mean you’re not coming? I thought you wanted to talk to Joan about Antonio.”

  Her face darkened.

  “Fine, whatever,” she said, and hung up.

  She turned to Aunt Sophia, a smile plastered on her face. “So Aunt Sophia, when will you be going to your friend?”

  “Tonight. My sister is a driving me, why we brought the boys.”

  “Can you stay for dinner?”

  “Of course,” they both said.

  Dinner was pleasant and Hunter fell asleep in Joan’s arms. The other two boys were angels, either asleep or quiet the whole night, but when it was time to go all three boys woke up at the same time and one by one began to cry – loudly.
/>   Lissa and Joan did their best to try and comfort the boys, but the maître d’ came over.

  “Please, ladies. Dinner is on the house, please take your family and go.”

  Mamacita, Aunt Sophia, Joan and Lissa got the three crying babies out of the restaurant and stood under the covered portico of the hotel as they waited for the driver. A minivan large enough to accommodate the triplets and all their gear pulled up, and the driver hopped out.

  “Ma’am,” he said, pulling open the door.

  “I’m going with Aunt Sophia,” Mamacita said. “I’ll be back in the morning. You can have Javier and the minivan for the boys. Javier, did you drive my car around, like I asked you to?”

  “Yes, Señorita, here is the valet slip,” he said, passing it to her.

  “What about the wedding Mamacita? When will you be back?” Lissa asked.

  Joan knew she was worried about the following day when they were to all show up at the country house where the wedding was to take place. There would be a rehearsal dinner, and the royal family’s entourage was to stop by and make sure his security was in place. How was Lissa going to handle all that without Mamacita?

  “I’ll be back before the rehearsal dinner, I promise,” Mamacita said. Just then the valet showed up with her Taurus V8 hardtop convertible.

  Aunt Sophia, reluctant to say goodbye, spent several minutes slobbering her three grandnephews with kisses. Joan found it interesting that all three of the boys had become instant angels the moment they stepped outside the restaurant.

  “You be good babies, ser buenos chicos,” she told them, then wrapped Lissa in a bear hug.

  “I’m-a so sorry I miss-a your wedding,” she said, “You is a perfect wife for a Julio, esposa perfecta!”

  “Thank you, Aunt Sophia,” Lissa said, moved by the compliment. “I’ll take good care of your nephew, I promise.”

  “And you,” Aunt Sophia, surprising Joan as she came to her, “When are a you getting married? You need a to start a your own familia.”

  “Uh, I -” Joan stuttered, shocked by the dictate.

  Everyone but Joan laughed.

  Joan set aside the ridiculous notion that she would be getting married and starting a family anytime soon. Then, Joan realized that Aunt Sophia might be gone for weeks, that she might not see her again before she left for America. Joan squeezed the woman tight, swiping away a tear after they pulled apart.