That’s it.
That’sall.
“This place looks divine.” Danika marvels at the decor of the new Italian restaurant that’s opening tonight in Manhattan.
The project was personally funded by my dad’s friend from the Luciano family, also known as the head of an infamous Italian crime family.
As Dad and Mom had other engagements, I’m attending on their behalf.
Ideally, Jeremy and Nikolai would also be here on their parents’ behalf, but they’re fucking around on the other side of the ocean in England.
Uselessly, I might add.
Yes, sometimes I feel a certain type of loneliness from being without all of them. Nikolai was the last to go to the island, so now I’m forced to attend functions like this by myself.
Well, not quite.
Danika accompanied me.
She loves all of these opulent places and the preferential treatment she gets for being on my arm.
“The food also looks fab.” She snaps a few pictures of the table.
Over the years, I’ve learned to never touch anything until she gets her fair share of pictures. I paint on an automatic smile as she takes a picture of me as well. She grins while scrolling through her phone, probably looking to see if she got decent shots.
“God, you’re hot.” She fans herself. “I feel so special.”
“Not more than I do.” I reach out and stroke the back of her hand, and her smile widens. “Did I mention that you look stunning tonight?”
“Yeah, a few times, but I don’t mind if you keep repeating it. Gotta look my best on nights like these.” She motions at the food. “Now, let’s see if this tastes as good as it looks.”
Finally, we dig in. Or she does, commenting on the level of spices, how well it’s cooked, and whether or not the ingredients are high quality and fresh.
If it’s not obvious, her dream is to become a food critic—and eat at the most high-end restaurants while at it.
Her family is well off enough, but her father’s business has been struggling for the last few years, and to my knowledge, he might have to close down his New York office and relocate to Seattle.
I know it’s been weighing heavily on her, especially since she was used to an extravagant lifestyle that’s now being cut off. So I pay for her wardrobe as well as fancy dinners and expensive shows.
And I love providing for her. I don’t really spend a lot of money personally, but funding Danika’s lifestyle gives me a sense of accomplishment.
Dad’s always said I have to take care of the woman I love. Put her ahead of everyone and everything. Always go the extra mile for her.
And I love Danika. I’ve loved her since the day we got together four years ago when she told me we’d make a great couple.
We do.
She’s stunning, with long legs and huge brown eyes. Her thick dark hair falls in waves to the small of her back, and tonight, she’s wearing a shimmering gold dress that complements her sun-kissed skin beautifully.
We picked it out together last week in preparation for this dinner—or more like, she picked and I paid. Not sure why she keeps asking for my opinion about clothes when everything she wears looks fine to me. But thenagain, I don’t really care for picking clothes for other people.
She was ecstatic when we left the boutique with the dress, and I’m happy to see her de-stressing a bit, considering everything with her father’s business. I believe tonight is perfect for getting her mind off things.
“Gosh, this is amazing.” She takes a sip of her mocktail, releasing a long sigh of contentment. “The food’s ending too soon.”
“Eat however much you want. I’ll order more.”
“No, no, I’m not sacrificing my flat tummy, even if the food is amazing. Thanks, though. For everything.” She reaches out and holds my hand. “I mean it, hon. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t by my side.”
