Home > Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(44)

Machiavellian (Gangsters of New York, #1)(44)
Author: Bella Di Corte

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “But I need that steak first to say for sure.”

He smiled at me, his eyes a deeper blue in this light. Sapphire, the same color as the ones on my wrist.

“It must be nice to be you.” I sighed dramatically. “You own one of the nicest restaurants in New York.”

“So do you,” he said. “And even though I enjoy the food here, my favorite place is Mamma’s Pizzeria. But don’t tell my aunts when we get to Sicily. They’d have my head on a platter. Some of the recipes we use here are theirs, the ones that never change. Anyone who cooks in the kitchen has to be sworn to secrecy. As serious as the omertà.”

“Mamma’s. Really? Compared to this?” I had been to Mamma’s. You could get a humongous slice for three bucks, or an entire meal—salad, drink, and a slice—for five. It was a poor man’s heaven.

“You’ve been?”

“Yeah. I went with Keely and Harri—” At the look on his face, I stopped. His eyes narrowed and his lips became severe. “I’ve been.”

“We’ll go one day. Take the bike. You’ll eat here tonight and then we’ll compare after we go to Mamma’s.”

The bike. He had a few of them, but there was one that he told me he was going to take me out on one day. It looked sleek and fast. I told him sure and then set my hand on a car. Any car. He had only grinned. I think he took it as a challenge.

A girl dressed in a stylish black pantsuit entered the room holding a glass filled with gold liquid. She set down a napkin and then the glass in front of me. “Enjoy, Mrs. Macchiavello.”

She didn’t even look at me, and before I could say anything, like, “What’s this?” she was gone.

“What’s this?” I asked Capo instead. I had seen a woman at the bar with one.

Capo explained that it was a cocktail called “the golden prince.” He thought I’d enjoy it, so he took the liberty to order it for me ahead of time.

I took a sip and fell in love.

Placing it down carefully, I said playfully, “What? No cocktail named after me?” I sipped on it some more. “This is delicious.”

He grinned, and when the same girl came back in, he told her to bring him the most popular drink on their bar menu. She came back a few minutes later with a dark blue drink in a glass that had a light blue butterfly sitting on the edge. The butterfly was made of sugar.

“For real?” I laughed. “You do!”

“It seems a man can’t have secrets around you.” He winked. Then he turned to the girl. “Tell my wife what the name of this drink is, Liza.”

“Of course, Mr. Mac.” The woman named Liza with the stylish bob haircut turned to me. “That is our Mariposa, the most popular drink on the menu.”

The Mariposa was sweet. I honestly couldn’t decide which one I liked the best. And then numerous servers started entering the room, one after another, delivering tray after tray of food. By the time they were done, the entire table was filled with steaming dishes. It seemed like every item on the menu had been ordered.

“How are we supposed to eat all of this?” I looked over our private buffet. “Are we expecting more people?”

“You can try a bite of everything.” He waved his hand casually, like it was no big deal. “I had them do it family style. That way we can take what we want and not touch the leftovers.”

“I get that.” My body felt warm from the drinks. “But this is a lot of food. I don’t want it to go to—”

He took my hand and squeezed. “We’ll give it to people in need after. I’ll have our people box it up. To go.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Let’s eat.”

Conversation was light as we ate. It was a feast fit for a queen. That was how Capo made me feel. He encouraged me try a little from all of the plates. The steak—so worth the kidney—but honestly, what I thought I’d sacrifice my precious organ for came in second. I fell in love with a pasta dish filled with cream sauce and lemony crabmeat. It was worth a kidney and some blood.

Capo even fed me a bite or two after I’d made him take a bite from my plate. I was so caught up in food ecstasy that I didn’t even think about him eating here before or owning the place. It was just the two of us, the rest of the world silent, even though they passed by the peeper glass constantly. There were so many people trying to eye themselves when they walked past without really wanting others to see.

Capo gave a throaty laugh when I called it that—a peeper glass.

After the main courses, he suggested that we dance, since he requested that dessert come a while after dinner. The dancing in this place was different than the way people danced at The Club. A jazz band had started up, accompanied by a woman who sang with a voice like a bird. Capo taught me a few steps, since I had no clue what I was doing. He was smooth and a surprisingly a good teacher.

I knew I’d always remember how much I laughed that night.

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” I asked, close to breathless as he pulled my seat out again in the exclusive room. I was surprised that the table was still full of dinner foods. I figured after he had mentioned dessert, we’d be getting that soon.

He took his seat again. “My mother.”

“You don’t talk about her much.” He rarely talked about any of his family. I knew his grandfather was in Italy, and he had an uncle (since he mentioned him knowing about the secret firehouse) and aunts (since he had mentioned them that night), but other than that, he didn’t bring up his family.

“She died when I was younger.”

“It seems we have something in common then,” I said.

“Seems like we do.”

Our eyes held. Slowly, oh so slowly, he leaned closer and placed a kiss on my lips. When I opened my eyes, he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t explain. As a few servers entered again, I sat back, feeling light-headed.

“Mr. Mac? Are you ready for me to clear this—”

Fucka me. It was Bruno. I hadn’t even noticed him come in the room. I had assumed Capo had given him the night off, or maybe he only worked days. Capo said that Sylvester was his night manager. I had only seen Big Mouth during the day. I had never come here at night. Instead of a fine suit, like usual, he was wearing cleaning garb. Something red was smeared across his forehead.

At the sight of me, he stopped dead. Even in nice clothes, with expensive jewelry on my finger, wrist, and ears, he recognized me. The shock in his eyes came and went in a flash, and then it was replaced by coldness.

He hid it well when Capo called his name and then introduced me as his wife.

Bruno wiped his hands on his dirty apron, and then went to hold his hand out, but Capo shook his head, bringing his drink to his lips, not even looking at the man.

“Your hands are dirty. Too dirty to touch my wife.”

My cheeks burned and I looked away. I knew what Capo was doing. I hated it. It only brought attention to something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Of course, Mr. Mac,” Bruno said. His voice was small. “I wasn’t thinking.” Then his voice lowered. “I’d like to talk to you about my position. I don’t know—”

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