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“Agreed.” The theme of L’artisaniant isn’t for the weak-hearted. Every level, the kink intensifies. Level one is usually where people hover, level three is where Royce stays, but then… he has a limit. They all know I’ve never been lower than four.
“Opening tonight.” Storm sinks the rest of his drink, his eyes shifting between Royce and me. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” I answer before Royce can interfere. “But I need your help with something. I’ll send you over his name, and I want to know everything there is to know.”
“He has a kid,” Royce smirks from behind his glass.
I glare at him. “Asshole.”
“What!” He raises his hands up. “It hasn’t opened yet. We can still talk about our lives for”—he looks down at his watch—“about forty minutes.”
“Damn,” Storm answers, shaking his head. “I don’t wish I was you.”
“Yeah, you do.” Royce chuckles under his breath.
“Both of you shut the fuck up.”
Pushing up from the chair, I head to the escalators behind the bar that take you up to the second level. Each side of the escalator is encased by glass display rooms. In every room, people will be inside, performing. Fucking. Whatever.
I bring the glass to my mouth, moving through level two. A direct replica of level one, only flipped so the bar is toward the back. Booths line parts of the large area, with cages floating up ahead. The walls are a deep red, the furnishings all chrome. Staff are moving around, prepping for opening. I head to the back and up the escalator to level three, with the same display on either side. The walls are a milky shade of beige with mirrored ceilings again and the bar toward the side. The booths are a little less private now, with a light in every area to show silhouettes. There are also options to take one of the private rooms off to the side.
I stop at the bottom of the escalator to level four. Tomorrow is the first day I get to meet Wolf, since Ruby wanted to take it a tad slower into letting him know what’s happening. I don’t want to be drinking all fucking night. Aside from Ma telling her she needs to go out for a couple of nights and blow off some steam after taking over Victor’s job for years, I know that it’ll take more than that to get little Ruby La Rosa out of the house.
The escalator leads me up to level four. White walls, bar furnishings, and leather sofas are scattered around the room. LED lights line each sofa, where poles are lined throughout the room. Chairs are placed casually, and the whole back wall is a mirror, as well as the ceiling. No private rooms here. This is afree-for-all space. The last time someone got lost on level four, they went crying to the police, trying to press charges. It didn’t work. You sign an NDA and your rights away the second you set foot through L’artisaniant .
I make my way to the bar, where a young girl around Poppy’s age is lining up the bottles against the cabinet. She spins around and jumps when she sees me. “Shit! Sorry!”
“You all ready up here?”
“Yes,” she answers, and my eyes fall to her name tag. Cassie. “We’re ready.”
“How old are you?” I ask, not hiding the way my eyes crawl over her body.
Her cheeks turn pink. “Twenty-three.”
“Alright…” I’ll double check that shit. She looks young as fuck, but then we do that. We find the young ones because they make good bait for the creeps that Anonymous hunt.
I grab my phone out of my pocket, swiping it unlocked when I see Victor’s name flash over the screen.
“What’s up?”
“We’re going to need to talk this week about something that has come up.”
I lower myself down onto one of the chairs. A glass slides over to me and I look up at Cassandra, who smiles at me. Way too fucking innocent for this club. Fuck. What was Storm thinking? “Tell me now.”
“It’s about your commitments to the Cosa Nostra. They want you where your father was.”
I swig the whiskey in my mouth, hissing when it burns down my throat, leaving notes of honey and smoke behind. “Figured that was coming.”
“I know you said the MC is your life now, but son…”
“I know,” I answer, giving him what he wants while looking up at the ceiling. “I know. I just need time to train Khaos to takemy place. I can’t be leaving them, and I can’t leave Royce and Lion in the dark about it either. I’ll need to fill them in.” Usually mafia business is to be left just in-house. No one outside.
“I agree. They need to know. The fact is, Wolf isn’t a La Rosa, he’s an Amante. Your family isn’t lost anymore, Vittiorio.” I sink the rest of the drink in one go.
“Alright. Talk soon.” Hanging up, I flick through my messages. I pause when I find the Instagram logo on my phone.I wonder. I tap it open and type in her name. It comes up first. I blink at her username.Uncut. I know she means gems, but it still irks me for a reason I’m not touching.
Her profile is public, so I click on it. Twelve thousand followers, following six. I chuckle, shaking my head. “Always a fucking snob.”
