Before I stepped any further into the main room of the club, one of the hostesses rushed from the mostly empty bar to intercept me. She filled out the halter top and hot pants Ivan uniformed his girls in perfectly. I enjoyed the show. It wasn’t like I was married yet.
“Mr. Petrovich, Ivan is waiting for you in the VIP area,” she purred in a practiced sultry tone, and offered the crook of her arm, “he told us your big day is tomorrow. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask. Anything.”
“Thank you,” I replied, slipping my hand inside her arm.
Having closed the club before with Ivan, been present when the lights came on and the girls’ acts evaporated, I had seen both sides of the game. Oh, her offer was genuine. She’d be happy to entertain me for the night… assuming I kept tipping well. Everything else about her was a well manufactured fantasy.
She led me toward the far side of the stage, weaving between tables. Along the way, several patrons’ eyes followed her. Seeing me on her arm, only the drunkest of them made a comment. One unfortunate fellow returning to his seat made the mistake of trying more.
“Hey, there,” the drunk bellowed over the music, stumbling closer to the hostess.
His eyes never left her breasts, mouth open. He grabbed the back of someone’s chair to stabilize himself. His other hand rose toward the prize his eyes were fixated on. My own intercepted it, fingers pressing tightly into the man’s wrist.
“I’m pretty sure Ivan has a no touching policy,” I said with a flat voice. “You have to pay first.”
For a moment, the drooling drunk acted tough. He tried to jerk his hand away from my hold and glared up at me. When his attempt only left him off balance and almost toppling to the floor, his confidence deflated.
“Apologize to the lady,” I demanded, eyes never leaving the drunk’s.
The idiot had learned his lesson, plowed as he was. That didn’t satisfy me. I had a habit of always taking things a little further. Rubbing the fool’s nose in it would really make the point. The glare I centered on the groper emphasized the challenge.
“I’m sorry,” the man stammered, eyes darting to the hostess, “I really am, babe.”
“Get out of my sight,” I hissed, jerking the man’s hand to the side.
The drunk stumbled and dropped to his knees. He scrambled out of their way on all fours before standing and rushing away.
“Dimitri!” called a voice over the music.
Ivan stood at the bottom of the spiral staircase up to the VIP lounge. His shiny suit reflected a shimmer of the lights near the stage. He held his arms open, a half empty bottle of vodka in one.
“If I could afford you, I’d hire you as a bouncer here, my friend,” he yelled, stepping forward, “you’d really keep the riff raff out.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t like it when you ended up being the first with their face skipping across the pavement,” I replied.
Ivan slapped his arms around me. The vodka bottle clubbed me in the ribs, but I didn’t mind. Ivan held it out when we pulled apart but I shook his head.
“Can we get a couple of glasses?” I asked the hostess. “Maybe a fresh bottle too, ice cold.”
She nodded and whisked away back toward the bar. Ivan and I climbed the stairs. The owner of the club dove into plush booth overlooking the club. He patted the seat next to him.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day,” he said between swigs from his bottle, “marrying your own bona-fide Mafia princess.”
“Something like that,” I said as he took a seat.
“Something like that,” Ivan deepened his voice, mimicking my own. “Ginger can’t get back fast enough with your bottle. Maybe we can have a conversation then. Loosen your tongue a little. You should be celebrating. I saw a picture of your soon-to-be wife in the paper. You’re a lucky man. And with the Castello family’s power… like I said, you’re a lucky man.”
“That soon-to-be wife of mine despises me,” I sighed, “and that power comes with a target on my back. I don’t know how I let the old man talk me into this scheme of his.”
A truth and a lie. Olivia’s father had passed the same day she’d learned of the man’s plan. She might have agreed to the wedding, she’d done so under protest. I didn’t plan on enjoying wedded bliss, at least not right from the ‘I dos.’
How I’d found myself in this situation? Oh, I understood that all too well.
That first meeting with the don remained just as fresh and clear in my mind today as it had been those months before.
The call itself hadn’t been out of the ordinary. Castello and my father had run their respective families out of Miami. They had never exactly been allies, but had maintained a cordial relationship, often doing business together. When my father was killed a few years back, the don had been one of the first to express his sympathy.
The man went above and beyond after that, as far as I was concerned. Asking for a meeting had been unexpected, but I wouldn’t have said no. At the very least, I’d have heard the man out.
