Francesca smiled. “There you go. I’m good for getting you into clubs.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll wipe everything down and clean up for the next shift. Pietro should be back by then.”

Joanna waited for her and they walked out together, Francesca wrapped in Stefano Ferraro’s long cashmere coat. She’d considered leaving it in her apartment, but she didn’t dare. Her apartment wasn’t very safe. The lock was tricky and sometimes didn’t actually lock. She’d told the owner and he’d promised to put a new lock in, but she wasn’t leaving that coat where someone could walk in and steal it. Who knew that the responsibility of a coat would make her a little crazy?

It seemed silly to carry the overcoat to work, when it would keep her warm, so she wore it, inhaling Stefano’s scent with every breath she took. She hung it carefully in Pietro’s office rather than in the employees’ little break room. Pietro didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed happy that she was keeping the coat in his office.

She plunged her hand in the pocket. The money was there. All of it. She hadn’t counted it, but she had a feeling she might faint when she found out how much he’d left her. “Where are we going, Joanna? I thought you said the pizza place was the opposite way?” They were heading away from Ferraro territory and the pizza parlor was deeper into it. They’d gone three long blocks, all businesses. Two streets over she knew residences started. They passed her apartment building. It marked the very edge of the Ferraro neighborhood and the next block was rather like her building, shabby in comparison.

“There’s only one shoe shop open this late unless we go to the big mall and then we’d have to take the bus.”

Francesca halted. “I don’t know if I want to spend the money on shoes. Seriously, Joanna, I’d have to pay it back and I have to be careful so I can pay the rent. Having a roof over my head is more important than anything else right now. And I can try to find shoes . . .”

“Don’t say it. You aren’t going to find shoes at a thrift shop. No way. You aren’t putting your feet into something someone’s put their feet into.”

“Seriously? Joanna, I don’t have any money. I can’t afford to be picky right now. If Stefano Ferraro is going to lose his mind because I didn’t buy shoes and get all mad and punch out his brother, then I need to find a pair of shoes, but I don’t have to spend his money on them.”

“Punch out his brother?” Joanna echoed. “Did Giovanni say Stefano would punch him out?”

Francesca shrugged. “Something like that. He mentioned not wanting a broken nose.”

“Oh. My. God. I’m falling even more in love with the Ferraro brothers. All of them. They’re so hot. And cool. And gorgeous. I can perv on them for like forever.” She caught Francesca’s arm. “Here. This shop. Let’s just go in. You can see if you can find something you like.”

Francesca couldn’t help herself. She was sick of having freezing feet, wet socks and toes that were numb from the icy cold. Once again her hand crept into the pocket to the neatly folded bills. She took a deep breath and nodded. It was an insane thing to do, owe Stefano money, but the temptation when her feet were killing her after standing on them all day was more than she could pass up.

It was embarrassing to try on shoes when hers were in such horrible condition. Joanna knew the manager and chatted all the while, allowing Francesca to remain silent. She couldn’t look at the man. He was good-looking and flirted outrageously with Joanna. Apparently they’d gone to high school together. It took Francesca a few minutes before she realized Joanna was deliberately distracting him, knowing how embarrassed Francesca was over the state of her shoes. She felt very, very lucky to have such a good friend.

Shoving her wet socks into her wet shoes, she hastily pulled on the warm, dry socks Joanna handed her. Clearly, along with shoes, Joanna expected her to buy thicker socks. Having made up her mind, Francesca didn’t waste time arguing. She pulled them on and then allowed the salesman to help her into the boots that had caught her eye. They were lined and felt like a miracle on her feet. They actually fit and when she stood up in them and walked around the store, she had to resist making noises that might have sounded a bit on the orgasmic side. She was so taking the boots. She didn’t even care that they cost more than every article of clothing that she owned put together.

“I’m going to wear them out of the store,” she announced. “You can throw my old shoes away, socks and all.”