“This is Elio Toma,” Gigi informs me before he can open his mouth. She grabs his arm pulling him closer to her. “He’s Madeline’s grandson.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Cipriani Capuano,” Elio finds his voice.
“You too,” I reply.
“Elio, would you be a doll and grab me a refill.” Gigi hands him her glass.
Nodding, Elio takes it and turns to the bartender.
Gigi smoothes her dress, then straightens to face me as if she knows what I’m going to say. “It’s fine, Cipi,” she reassures me. I can see she’s holding back the urge to roll her eyes.
“I didn’t approve his invitation and I know he’s not on the list,” I hiss.
“He’s Madeline’s grandson,” Gigi repeats. “Madeline is one of the top investors in your nightclub. He’s practically family.”
Brushing a curl behind my sister’s ear, I whisper. “Watch yourself, don’t trust anyone.”
She sighs. “Yes, Cipi.”
I can’t lie, Elio is annoyingly easy on the eyes. Prominent nose, architectural cheekbones, jaw dusted with permanent stubble, he’s the kind of man who commands attention without trying.
My brain makes a mental note to have Bruno do a full background check on Elio.
A woman in my position can’t trust anyone.
And unfortunately it makes me a terror in my family members’ dating lives.
Everyone must be approved by me.
I hate it, but I can’t afford any more funerals.
Elio returns and I politely excuse myself.
Scanning the room, frustration wells in my chest.
Where is Lucia?
My hand wraps around a glass of champagne offered by a passing server. I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip, savoring the sweet chill on my tongue.
She should be here. It’s my birthday party.
Lucia is my closest ally and best friend. She’s my shadow who watches my back. She wouldn’t miss my party.
The bright mellow tune of the piano fills my ears, and I look across the room to see Salvatore Moretti, my consigliere, conversing with two men. My heels click across the marble as I make my way to the grand piano.
As I get closer, I realize the man tinkering with the keys is one of our business liaisons from New York, and the one standing next to him is from Napoli, Italy. Salvatore takes a swig of hisdrink and whispers something to the men. They straighten and slightly bow when they catch sight of me.
“Buonasera, Regina.” They nod to me as I place my half-filled glass on top of the piano.
“Buonasera, gentlemen. I need a moment with Salvatore.”
The men smile and disappear into the crowd.
“What’s wrong, Boss?” Salvatore takes another swig of his Bourbon.
“Where is Lucia? I haven’t seen her all night.”
Salvatore checks his watch. “She said she would be late. She had to go to the warehouse. The new shipment of tables is being delivered for the club.”
