My jaw tenses. “She has to do that now? I thought they were coming tomorrow.”
“The driver called and said they would be arriving earlier than expected.”
I scowl. “Grazie, I’ll call her.”
We both know there is more than tables in those crates.
Wedging myself in a corner next to a parlor palm, I pull out my phone. I FaceTime Lucia, but she doesn’t answer.
Hitting redial, I scan the room. The bartender is doling out drinks, some people are dancing while others are playing poker at a table nearby. I see Matteo raking in chips, he seems to be in a better mood. The music from the DJ gets louder and everyone is either eating or clinking crystal glasses in celebration.
“Come on, Lucia, pick up,” I murmur. She doesn’t answer the second time and I groan. Reaching through the slit in my dress, I pull out the burner phone from the thigh holster, and call my Columbian plug.
“Hello, Angel, me dijiste que el regalo estaría aquí mañana, ¿verdad?” I grip the flip phone tighter. “The gift is coming tomorrow, right?”
“Sí, Jefe, yes.” His gruff voice replies.
“There is no delivery tonight?” I repeat.
“No, Jefe.”
“Ok, grazie.” Closing the phone with one hand, I shove it back into the holster.
What the hell is Salvatore talking about?
Opening the text message on my main phone, I send her an angry message telling her to get her ass here asap. I want my best friend here with me.
Then I send a quick message to Bruno telling him to do an immediate background check on Elio while he is patrolling the grounds.
“Cipriani, che fai? What are you doing?”
Jerking my head, I see Nonna standing in front of me.
“Mamma mia, it’s your birthday and you’re hiding in a plant?” She moves the palm leaves aside so I can step out.
“I was trying to call Lucia,” I confess. “She should be here.”
“She’ll be here. She’s your best friend,” Nonna replies firmly. “You know I find it funny how your sister has someone at this party, but you don’t.”
“Nonna, I’m running an empire,” I hiss, adjusting my dress.
Nonna is barely 4’11”, but she’s a plump firecracker with a spine forged in Napoli’s sun-soaked grit and old country tradition. Her thick gray hair is pinned into a neat bun wrapped in a silk scarf that matches her yellow gown.
“I know it’s your birthday, Bella, but did you see all the handsome men here tonight?” She gestures toward the dance floor. “Would it kill you to entertain the idea of having a man by your side? I would love to see my great-grandchildren before I die. When I was thirty-five, I was celebrating my fifteen year anniversary and raising five children.”
“Nonna, you didn’t have to run an empire,” I groan.
“I stood by your Nonno’s side for years and helped run this establishment before your father took charge.”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I reply, “At some point I’ll entertain a man, but right now I need to eat.” I give her a quick hug and inhale her scent of fresh basil and espresso before bolting to the buffet table.
Oh, Nonna, such a drama queen.
I pause at the elaborate display of Italian cuisine that sits in hot chafing dishes. My stomach growls. Nonna and my mother spent all day in the kitchen cooking my favorite dishes. Even though they hired servers, they insisted on making all the food themselves, and I’m determined to sink my teeth into all of it.
Snatching up a plate, I make my way down the line, piling every kind of pasta, eggplant parmigiana, and chicken cutlets on my plate. Stabbing my fork into the pile of delicious goodness, I raise it to my lips.
“Cipi, there you are.”
