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I watch the Cosa Nostra don leave, wondering if I should tell him right away that I have no intention of marrying a woman nearly half my age. Good business opportunity or not.
Filip takes the seat that Ajello just vacated and motions with his head toward the club’s exit. “What did the Italian want?”
“To settle the feud between us. He wants us back handling the distribution of his drugs. And he offered Arturo DeVille’s sister to me in marriage to close the deal.”
Filip’s eyes widen. “You’re going to accept?”
“No.”
“Why not? The drug supply is seriously low, and Ajello has the best product. Also, the familial connection to the Cosa Nostra will give us a much better negotiation position with the Russian Bratva.”
“The girl is twenty. I’m not marrying a spoiled, barely out of her teens, Cosa Nostra princess.”
The sounds of whatever pop hit fill the room from the overhead speakers. The music isn’t loud because the volume won’t be turned up until the club opens its doors for the night. However, it’s still enough to mess with my already bad hearing, so I have to focus on Filip’s mouth and read his lips.
“. . . and who the fuck cares?” he says. “Bring the girl home, give her a credit card, and tell her there’s no limit. She’ll spend her days on shopping sprees and visits to beauty salons. With your work schedule, you’ll probably hardly ever see her.”
“I would rather never see her.” I shake my head. “Do you recall Tara at twenty? The screaming matches? How she locked herself in her room when I wouldn’t give her the money for a new car until she earned it? I’m too old to go through all that crap again, with awife.”
“Sacrifices must be made for the sake of business.” Filip leans forward. “Italians take family ties very seriously, Drago. A marriage to Arturo’s sister will ensure Cosa Nostra won’t meddle in our arms business. You shouldn’t let this opportunity pass.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. Am I seriously considering marrying a girl young enough to be my daughter? Our gemstone business and other side ventures already generate significant income. With the arms deal in the picture as well, we’ll be damn close to having more money than we can launder through the club. Dipping back into drug transport will only cause more complications. But Filip is right. I can’t let this opportunity pass, and it has nothing to do with the money. Work has been the only thing that keeps me going. The more there is, the easier it’s to get through the day. Saying “no” to a prospective opportunity is out of the question.
“All right.” I sigh. “The girl is coming here tonight with a friend. Nino Gambini will be with them. Tell the men at the door to let them in and make sure they’re seated over there.” I point at the booth on the opposite side of the room. The one in my direct line of sight.
Filip follows the direction of my finger, then clears his throat. “We have some IT mogul coming in. He booked that booth four months in advance.”
“Find him another,” I say and wave to the waiter. “I want to check this girl out before I decide if she’s worth the trouble.”
Chapter 3
“Wow.” My gaze sweeps the circular room as I take in the amazing sight before me.
The semi-private booths nearly surround the dance floor at the center of the luxurious space. Frosted glass walls set within intricate iron frames separate each booth. The inner sanctum consists of a cozy seating area, including a leather sofa and two matching armchairs around a low, glass-top table. Just to the side of each glass divider, dressed in a pristine white shirt and black pants, stands a server who is ready to fulfill whatever order is made of them at even the slightest wave from the patrons occupying their assigned booths. On the far side of the room is a huge half-round bar with several bartenders tending to the customers gathered along its length. A dozen or so couples are on the dance floor, swaying to a slow tune.
The thing I find strange is that there are fewer than a hundred people here. I don’t frequent clubs often because, until last year, Arturo only let me visit places run by Cosa Nostra members, and none of them owned an actual club. My brother has only recently released his reins on me, and only because I told him I was going to fucking flip if he continued his helicopter parenting.
“I thought it would be bigger,” I mumble.
“With a price tag of fifteen grand per booth a night, you can’t expect to have hundreds of people,” Nino says as he ushers Luna and me after the host who leads us to the last booth on the left-hand side. The only one that’s vacant at the moment.
As we walk, I cast another look around the space and run through some quick calculations in my head. Twelve booths, fifteen grand each. That’s one hundred and eighty thousand per night. If they are open five nights a week, fifty-two weeks a year, it comes to forty-six point eight million a year. Holy cow!
“So, you’re on a mission? Dazzle and leave no man behind kind of thing?” Luna nods at my outfit and laughs, distracting me from my math.
“What? I thought this was tame.” I shrug and take a seat on the plush white sofa. Nino lowers himself to the armchair on the left while Luna sits next to me.
“That’s a few thousand gold sequins too many to be considered tame, Sienna,” she says with a snort. “At least it’s not fluorescent green, or something like that.”
“I would never put on a green jumpsuit. It would make me look like a grasshopper.”
“Thank God for small favors.” Luna rolls her eyes.
“But I did get a yellow faux fur jacket last week.” I grin just thinking about it. “It’s a showstopper.”
She arches an eloquent eyebrow at me. “Don’t you dare to come anywhere with me while wearing that thing. I still cringe at the thought of you turning up at Valeria’s birthday party in that red feathered dress.”
“Life’s too short to wear boring clothes.” I laugh and lean back to observe the crowd.
