The hostess is strangely deferential to Prime. It surprises me the way she falls over herself to bring us back into the place like he’s a regular here or something. But I know everywhere he goes, andI’ve never heard of this place before. As we follow her, Prime takes my hand, drawing me close as we navigate the tightly packed establishment.
“People are staring,” I whisper to him as we wind our way to the back.
“Don’t pay it any mind.” He pats my arm affectionately. “They’re only jealous that I have the most beautiful wife in the room.”
I’m not sure that’s true, but it’s nice to hear anyway. Many of the other couples are young and wealthy-looking, though there are more than a few older professionals mixed in with the crowd, the kind of elegant men and women who make me feel like an idiot even looking at them.
We’re taken to a table in a good, private spot, only to find two people already waiting.
“Deanna, this is my associate, Ricardo Salerno and his wife.”
“Charmed, dear.” Ricardo shakes my hand. He’s an older Italian man, heavyset in a black pin-striped suit with his dark hair slicked back. His wife is the mirror image of him: shorter, on the thick side, but wearing an immaculately expensive dress, earrings, and a glittering diamond necklace.
“Donatella, darling,” the wife says, giving my hand a cursory swipe of her palm. “The pleasure’s yours. And hello to you, Prime, I’ve heard so much.”
“Wonderful to meet you finally, Donatella. That’s a beautiful necklace. Which jeweler did you use?”
The old woman immediately starts talking diamond vendors, giving way too much detail and complaining about each and every one. Prime listens half-politely, interrupting her only toorder his usual bourbon. I ask for a glass of rosé which earns a wrinkled nose and a chortle from the lovely Donatella, but she’s back on stones the second the waitress is gone.
“I noticed you’re not wearing anything, dear. Don’t tell me your husband is being tight with his new bride?” She leans in closer. “You know you can always take his credit card?”
“I don’t—I mean, I wouldn’t—“ I look at Prime in a panic.
But he only laughs. “I have an entire treasure trove of jewels waiting for my wife. She doesn’t know it yet.”
“Lucky girl.” Donatella looks at me with pursed lips. “I bet you don’t even realize it.”
“We heard the wedding had a bit of a hiccup.” Ricardo cuts in and I wish I could be relieved that someone else is talking for once.
“There were some last-minute alterations,” Prime concedes, touching my hand. “But we made it to where we needed to be.”
“That happens in our line of work.” Ricardo grins happily at me. “And look at you, young lady. He’s a very lucky man to have married you after all.”
“Ah, thank you.” I lower my eyes to the table, but only after noticing the purely venomous look Donatella’s throwing my way.
I do my best to stay involved in the conversation. Prime and Ricardo talk sports and real estate. Donatella tries to engage me in clothes, cars, and which dry cleaners are the best, but I don’t have much to offer. At least Prime orders my meal for me that earns a nod of approval from the old lady.
Her passive aggression doesn’t relent. There are comments about my hair (“so lustrous and long, very nice for a young woman like you, at least if you’re not trying to be taken seriously”) and barbs at my accent (“tell me, did you grow up in Fishtown, darling, it’s just the way you talk is all”) and more than one reference to the fact that I still work for Prime (“an… interesting arrangement, to be sure…”). It becomes clear by the time the main course is taken away that Donatella hates my stinking guts.
I don’t even know why. Her husband is perfectly pleasant. I laugh at her jokes, ask her questions, engage with whatever inane bullshit she throws my way. I don’t defend myself. I don’t rise to the insults. I sit there and take it, because this is my job, and it’s killing me. I stop after two glasses of wine, otherwise I’ll get drunk and stab the old bitch in the carotid. More than once Prime puts a big hand on my thigh under the table to make sure I’m keeping it together.
And I really do. Even as I’m essentially laughed at to my face. Because that’s my job: smile, make nice, play the role of the dutiful wife to Prime. If these people are important to him for God knows what reason, I’ll take this awful woman’s abuse. She can think I’m some hussy rube all she wants, that’s fine, so long as my parents are taken care of and Prime upholds his end of the contract. I’m not about to ruin everything just because some old bat hates my hair and thinks I’m a whore.
Miraculously, I survive it all. We exit the restaurant, though not before both the manager and the chef come out to pay their respects. On the sidewalk, I shake Donatella’s hand and thank her for a nice evening. “Yes, well, itwasan evening, wasn’t it?”
“Wonderful to meet you, dear.” Ricardo beams at Prime and elbows him jovially. “I think you’ve got a good one on yourhands. It’s great to see you two getting on so well. I’ll put in a good word.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Come on, Riccy, I’m tired now and my feet are killing me.” Donatella stalks off with barely a wave of her shoulder.
I wait for them to disappear around the corner before turning to Prime. “I swear to fucking god if that woman says one more thing about me I’m going to dig my fingernails into her eyes and?—“
Prime puts a hand on my lower back, pulls me against him, and crashes his mouth into mine.
I don’t have time to react. The heat is blistering. His mouth is warm bourbon and sin. His tongue slips between my lips as he devours me and I don’t have the strength or the desire to stop him. I fall into that kiss, returning it with more passion than I realized I had as hunger for him boils into my core, ripping into my spine, digging claws into my brain.
He lingers, biting my lower lip, breathing hard. A trail of spit links our tongues. “I need to get you home.”
