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I looked at her, and Ludmila rolled her finger around the glass of Kir Royale she had in front of her. I smiled and she spoke.
“We’ve met. My husband is very grateful to you for helping Katja acclimate in New York, Enzo. Thank you.” I wanted to ask her if Popov was also grateful that I was the one who could make her come like a maniac.
“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Popova. I just saw your husband leaving with my dad. Did he leave you all alone tonight?”
“Business. You know how it is. I’m sorry Katja couldn’t be here tonight. She’s meeting some relatives on her mother’s side.” I’ll live. Ludmila was trying to take the conversation to a safer place. “Well, I think I’m in good company with your family. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Sure thing.” I was the only company she needed.
I couldn’t just stay there and talk code, so for now I had to put some distance between Mrs. Popova and me. I went to the bar and got up on a stool listening to the band covering an Etta James song. Ludmila kept herself involved with the conversation with my relations, and she never glanced my way once. I knew she was doing it on purpose, so I took out my phone and texted her.
Me: I want to bend you over and fuck you in that dress, baby doll. Are you wearing it for me?
I locked the phone and watched her looking at the text with wide eyes.
RQ: You can’t take a hint, Nucci, can you? I’m not interested anymore.
She answered. It was harder to ignore me when I was six feet away.
Me: I saw your knees clasping together under the table. You want me right now.
RQ: No.
Me: Answer my question. Are you wearing that dress for me?
RQ: No.
Me: Liar, liar…
She put her phone on the table, face down, and tried to ignore it while talking to Catherinelle. Didn’t she understand that the more she pushed me away, the harder I wanted her? A Nucci always gets what they want, and this Nucci wanted Ludmila.
I opened my phone again.
Me: Fine. In five minutes, I’ll go out on the back to have a smoke. If you don’t want me, just don’t show up.
I saw her reading the text and placing the phone back on the table. Damn this woman that was playing with my nerves! I watched five minutes pass on the clock, and then went to the back alley, just like I promised. I found one of my mom’s bodyguards there, trying to convince a waitress to give him her number, and he saluted when he saw me.
“Boss.” I wasn’t Don yet, but I sure as hell was boss.
“Samuel, do me a solid and take your girlfriend inside. Maybe buy her a drink.”
The girl’s cheeks turned red.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nucci, I should go back to work.”
“Take a break if you want, but not here. I have to make a phone call.”
They left and I lit a cigarette – nasty habit that my mom hated. I wasn’t much of a smoker, because I didn’t particularly like to smell like an ashtray, but once in a while I needed something to calm me down, either it was booze, weed, Molly, or tobacco. This time it didn’t work; when I got to the butt, I was only more tense. I put my hands in my pockets and walked in a circle for a couple minutes. I was ready to go back inside and sulk over a bottle of rough whiskey, but when I turned to the back door it opened, and Ludmila was standing in the frame.
“Fancy meeting you here.” I said, my mood lightening in an instant.
“Why did you call me here, Enzo?”
“I didn’t. Quite the opposite, doll, I told you to not come here if you want me to leave you be.”
She looked at me desperately and then started walking around in her ankle-strap sandals, the high heels making a clicking sound every time she made a step.
“I don’t want to want you,” she finally said, frustrated. “I am married, Enzo!”
