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Chapter 7
Isabella
Franco Falcone looks like he might have looked alright in his younger years. I mean, he had to look good enough to inspire a woman to produce all those sons of his, but now his nose, his teeth, his eyebrows, they are all too much. He still has a manly face, but it has thinned along with his hairline. He has that salt and pepper look to his hair which is longer in the back, still thick there somehow.
I’m trying to find things to like about him as I take a turn around the room by his side, being introduced to all of his associates and even to his sons. There are three of them, all looking like they just stepped out of some machine mass producing Italian crime families. Seriously, they could be in the Godfather without a single bit of training or makeup.
As we approach the back half of the large ballroom filled with some of the most pretentious people in New York, I spot the open bar and want nothing more than to have some liquid courage. "Excuse me, Franco, I think I just need a little refreshment," I tell him, squeezing him on the shoulder like someone I’m close with. I will have to admit there is some muscle there like the old man still works out.
"Of course, Miss. Lupo!" he calls over one of his sons, the youngest if the looks are accurate at all. "Can you take Miss Erins to the bar for a moment. I will meet you both over there momentarily. I could use something to quench my thirst as well."
I try not to roll my eyes. He is forcing this persona of himself in front of me like it might fool and charm me, but I know this family is full of heathens. I don’t know if I’m simply not easily fooled because of my closeness to the Clans, or if he is bad at this part of being a bad guy.
But I have seen it with the Funars how they always put on a good act before Aria’s father died even though nothing was alright.
Lupo offers me his arm and I smile in taking it. "So, what would you like, some wine, maybe?" he asks as we approach the bar.
I shake my head. "No, I am more of a vodka kind of girl or maybe even some brandy," I tell him, and he grins.
"A woman after my own heart, then." He orders from the bar in perfect Italian which I pretend not to know a word of. While I know some phrases. I don’t know everything. It is something I have been learning considering I’m going to be in their midst trying to uncover their secrets. He has ordered me a vodka drink of some kind and asked that it be made strong. Seems he takes after his father with the ladies though is not as buttoned up about it. It’s a good thing that even with my weight I can hold my liquor, one of the few useful, things I got from my father.
The drink slides across the table and I down it with him, raising my eyebrow in a challenge. Maybe the young Falcone is the bluntest and he might let something slip if he gets a little tipsy here tonight. Maybe then I won’t have to crawl into bed with Franco himself. Though, at least I had my one night with Marcel, a night I hope to repeat again someday.
We continue drinking, and I lose count. I don't even notice when his older brother, Alfred comes up behind him until he says something a few minutes later, already sipping at a whiskey.
"You're Teresa, right?" he asks, giving me what I believe to be a smoldering eye. My god, are all these men womanizers? Then again, I haven’t seen any of them with a ring on, no sign of their mother, whoever she is. Do they even share the same one?
"Yes, Teresa Erins," I say, holding my hand out to him. "This is all lovely." I point to the decor around us and all the glitz and glam that hides sinister business dealings that make millions daily.
He shakes my hand. "I hope you are not put off by my brother here. He's often bad company when he drinks." They laugh like it is only child's play, brotherly competition perhaps, but there is an edge to it that I am sure only I catch as
he places his hand hard on Lupo’s shoulder.
Lupo downs another drink and wipes at his face. He smells like a walking bar now, so I think I have accomplished something. "Hard for any of us to be good company tonight, brother," he spits, and I cock my head in interest. This could be something.
Alfred shakes his head, but Lupo ignores it, or maybe doesn’t even notice. "It being the anniversary of our brother's disappearance and all. Still haven’t found him after all these years."
"Oh, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry. Are there no leads?" I ask, feigning horror and sympathy. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to take out a sibling, so maybe this is the information I need.
"The only thing we know is Vinny was obsessed with some bit -"
"Please, Lupo, you are going to scare away our guest." An arm wraps around me, and I don’t need to look to know the voice belongs to Daddy Falcone himself, here to shut up his youngest from spilling all their secrets.
Alfred practically drags him away as Franco orders himself a drink, before leading me to the edge of the room. His hand is firm on my back, letting me know he is in control here.
My heart is pounding, fear building that he knows I’m up to something I shouldn’t be. Maybe I was too interested in what Lupo had to say or didn’t say the right things to his business associates.
"I’m sorry for my son’s crudeness. He had the least of his mother, and it is often most obvious when he has too much to drink."
I laugh it off. "I think we have all been there at some point."
"I appreciate your bluntness, and I would like the same courtesy if I may?" he asks.
I nod, unsure of where this is going.
"I know that women like you don't hang around me for no reason. I’m sure you are aware by now who I am and the kind of money I have. That is fine with me. You can have whatever you want. Jewelry, a penthouse, dresses, shoes, a new job. . . .anything."
"Franco." My hand is on my heart as I gasp. I am sure it could go for innocence or adoration, depending on how he wants to see it.
"Just keep your mouth shut and legs open, little girl."
