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"Roberto, you should be paying attention to this," Bruno murmurs to my right.
My friend is anal about my behavior during meetings like this. You'd think he was next in line as Don in the family and not merely an overly moral enforcer. I roll my eyes and grin at the California businessmen sitting across the table.
"I'm sure they Don’t mind if I appreciate a little eye candy while you're all discussing the finer details of a deal that's as good as Done."
The one across from me, who owns several car dealerships, just grunts while the backend dealer beside him raises his eyebrows and looks over at the table I've been watching.
"Hadn't even noticed. Perfect ten, that one."
Bruno looked exasperated, but these guys knew who they were getting into this booth with. I'm hardly known as a stickler for etiquette. On Bruno's other side is my cousin Marcus, who gets back to business as he addresses the men across from us, drawing their attention back to why we're here. Apparently, neither he nor Bruno has pieced together exactlywhoI'm looking at.
But I have. I flick my gaze back to the stunning brunette and grin.
Giulia Russo.
How funny that the daughter of the powerful L.A. crimelord happens to be here in San Francisco, at the exact time of our meeting, on an awkward date with some yahoo. She sighs and refolds her napkin for the umpteenth time as the dolt yammers on, completely missing all her nonverbal cues. Finally, he pauses to take a bite of some dessert he's eating alone, and she opens her mouth to say something, but he quickly offers her a taste, which she sighs and rejects. Undeterred, he talks on.
Poor thing. Maybe I should step in and help.
Who am I kidding? This front-row seat to her ongoing discomfort is far too funny to give up. I'd like to see what Frank Russo's pretty daughter is made of. Is she the docile type who will sit through much more of this, or will she do something even more amusing?
I've tuned out much of the conversation happening immediately around me, but I catch the end of what Marcus is saying.
"And from the renewed contract, we'll take ten percent of the cut from—"
"Thirty," I cut in, surprising the men across from me as I smile at the car dealer without missing a beat.
I bet they thought I wasn't paying an ounce of attention. Jokes on them. I only ever pay an ounce of attention to menial deals like this.
The man scoffs and leans across the table. "Tell me you're joking. I'm already being far too generous in letting you entertain the idea offifteen. Don’t push your luck, pal."
Bruno gives me a subtle warning look that tells me he's worried I'm about to blow the deal. His concern is understandable since anyone can tell I'm getting bored with this meeting—and no one in my family likes it when I go off-script to make things more entertaining.
Which only makes it all the more entertaining for me. How could I resist?
I lean forward to mirror the arrogant bastard, grinning and lowering my voice. "You'll let me entertain whatever fucking ideas I want. You shorted every other payment on the last contract, thought you got away with it, and pocketed the change to blow on a luxurious secret cruise with your second mistress. So you tell me,pal. Thirty percent and the Giovanni family will graciously agree to overlook how you stupidly thought you could shortchange us? Or should the three lovely ladies in your life—who're all settling, by the way—learn about your variousextracurricularactivities? I'd be happy to pay them a visit."
The backend dealer scoots slightly away from the businessman, who's now gone red-faced and sweaty under my stare. Marcus folds his arms, leveling the man with his own glare while the corner of Bruno's mouth lifts ever so slightly.
"Thirty percent is fine, just fine," the man grumbles, tugging at his collar like it's too warm. "We'll get payments in early. We can also throw in a car or two—nice ones…."
Bruno should really stop giving me an impressed side-eye. He should know by now that poking around people's lives for relevant blackmail is mildly entertaining to me. As Marcus resumes the discussion in a much icier tone, my friend leans over to speak quietly to me so the others won't hear.
"How come you stepping in and getting shit Done like that is the exception and never the rule, huh?"
"Because rules are fuckingboring," I mutter.
Without intending to, my eyes slip back to the table where the Russo girl is watching her bumbling date with an inscrutable expression, hands folded in her lap and chin up. I guess she really is just going to let her awkward evening drag on. I'm mildly disappointed to think that the youngest child of the formidable California Don is so bland.
But then her date pauses for the briefest moment in whatever he's saying, and Giulia Russo rises from her seat with a smooth grace, clutch purse in hand. The tiny smile she gives him is charming, utterly belying the crashing, burning date I've been witnessing all evening. Whatever she says, the man quickly stands, too, fumbling with his seat before stepping around her to block her exit.
I would have missed how her eyes flashed at this if I hadn't observed so carefully. It's gone as quickly as it appeared. I doubt even he noticed, but I did.
I'd like to see that look on her face again. Or any expression but the careful blankness I've seen on it for the last hour, for that matter.
When Giulia speaks again, I wish I could pick out what she's saying over the music that keeps changing on the dance floor. But I don’t need to hear to know she's trying to leave the date early. This guy should have seen this from a mile away because no one could accuse the poor girl of leading him on as he talked her ears off.
In response to whatever she says, the guy reaches out to take her arm, proving he's idioticandclingy.
