The valet waved nervously before slipping into the front seat.
“Levi?” I looked at Dean. “The boy who needed the stitches in his head?”
“Yep. Antonio felt sorry for the kid, so he gave him a job here.” Dean slid his hands into his pockets as we watched Levi drive on, traveling at a speed limit below five as he headed for the parking lot around the corner. Once the car was out of sight, Dean brought his hand to the small of my back. But his hand didn’t meet the bare skin there. Instead, it hovered as he suggested we head inside.
I could feel the warmth radiating from his palm and found myself wanting to know how it might feel pressed to my bare skin. But when we reached the top of the stairs, and the doorman opened one of the doors for us, he returned his hand to his pocket, striding into the lavish foyer as he nodded with a curt smile to the doorman.
My eyes immediately went up to the gold-plated ceiling and chandeliers hanging above the marble floors inside. If this was only the entrance to the building, I couldn’t imagine how extravagant Antonio’s actual penthouse would be. I had to remind myself it was all paid for by money earned from illegal activities, but that thought was fleeting as we stepped into the glass elevator and Dean punched in the number for the top floor, 30 stories up.
I watched as the garden below sunk further away when the elevator went skyward. Dean however remained by the door, leaning against its frame as he watched the numbers.
When the elevator doors slid open again, classical music and chatter flooded the small space. Revealing Antonio’s luxurious penthouse apartment on the other side. I couldn’t put into words how beautiful it all looked as I walked with Dean into the entryway.
Everything varied in shades of white, with gold and black trimmings, including a settee at the far end of the room which was currently occupied by three large Dobermans.
Pillars of marble made the archways separating each open space, and a large collection of abstract art decorated the interior walls — the only form of modernization in an apartment that looked like it had been pulled from a vintage, Italian coastal villa.
Guests filled almost every corner of the home, wearing the finest suits, gowns, and jewelry I had ever seen. I suddenly felt underdressed as a woman walked by with a thick, jewel-encrusted choker around her neck and a fur coat draped over her shoulders. Arm in arm with a man I recognized from the meeting Antonio held at The Den not so long ago.
I brought my eyes to the other men in the room, wondering how many of them were members of the Mafia until a muffled clap broke my focus.
“Ah! They made it!” Antonio called out happily over the music from the bar to the right. A cigar hung from his mouth as he gripped his cane and made his way over to Dean and me. Followed closely behind by a beautiful, much younger woman in a dark red, skin-tight dress with her thick, long blonde hair swept up into a large bun. When the pair stopped in front of us, Antonio gestured to the woman with a look of wonder in his eyes. “Lily, this is my wife, Julia.”
Julia smiled warmly, taking my hand in hers as she kissed me on the cheek. She smelled expensive and had a subtle Brooklyn accent. “It is lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” I smiled politely. “And happy birthday. Your apartment is beautiful.”
“Ah, yes, thank you.” She stepped aside, motioning to the room. “Please. Make yourselves at home.”
Chapter 43
Lily
My eyes widened over the rim of my Cosmopolitan. I was mid-sip, and halfway through the sweet, bright pink cocktail as Dean finished subtly pointing out the most notable guests in the room. CEOs, two celebrity chefs (one being Roxy’s dad though she wasn’t there), several politicians, lawyers, and a handful of detectives who thankfully didn’t know my father. All of them casually mingled with members of the Mafia as if it were nothing. The detectives were being paid to make things disappear or keep things quiet.
“They only see the money side of things and never get their hands dirty,” Dean added, resting his elbows on the bar as he brought his glass of whiskey to his lips — the only drink he was having tonight considering he was driving us home later.
Swiveling the bar stool around so my body faced him, I looked around the room before asking quietly, “Which of the five families does Antonio belong to?”
Dean looked impressed by this. “You know about the five families?”
“I may have done some googling,” I shrugged coyly, taking another sip of my drink as I turned to face the bar. The cocktail was already slowly taking effect, bringing out a flicker of confidence.
Dean smiled, downing the last of his drink before he turned to face the room. His arm brushed against mine when he leaned back against the bar.
“He’s one of twenty Caporegimes in the Genovese family. The most powerful of the families.”
“What makes them so powerful?”
He leaned in as he dragged his eyes from the room to me. “They’re good at keepin’ secrets.”
My eyes flicked up from his lips as I swallowed. “Have you met the boss of the whole family?”
Dean shook his head, a faint smile on his lips as he shifted to lean on just one arm, letting his gaze slip back to the room. “I’m just a very small piece in Antonio’s side hustle.”
I hummed, looking down at my drink as I traced a finger around the rim of the glass. For a moment, we were quiet. The low buzz of chatter in the room, and the swirl of classical music filled the silence though. There was no awkwardness. Just two people sitting at a bar.
“Dance with me.”
