I’m fully prepared to play hardball until Philippe asks me a question that hits me straight in my heart. “Why did you decide to open a restaurant of all things?”
Unlike many restaurateur’s I don’t have a bullshit answer I tell people. I didn’t do this to make money, because hell if I haven’t learned just how much you have to put into your restaurant. While my father may have bought this establishment and transferred it into my name as a way to buy my cooperation, it didn’t look like this when I was handed the keys. I was able to get a loan and I have the restaurant as collateral. It took me over three hundred thousand dollars to turn La Bellezza into what I’ve always dreamed it to be. However, that doesn’t include the construction going on out back to give us a bit of square footage on the water.
“My family is dysfunctional at best. We definitely don’t have the same opinions on important matters, but the one place we could put all of it to the side was the dinner table. I wanted to create a similar experience, so that’s why I decided to open a restaurant. It makes me think of the one place I’ve always found peace, at the table.” I think Philippe will accept this answer, but he cocks a brow and runs his hand over his chin.
We’re interrupted by Italia, one of my waitresses, who comes over with two glasses of wine and a meal. “I’m terribly sorry this is late. We didn’t realize Giuliana had disappeared . . . and I’m so sorry I didn’t see you were here Miss. Moretti. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay, Italia. Giuliana won’t be back. I fired her. Bring me a tiramisu and I’ll forget about your absence.”
“Sure thing,” Italia smiles and darts off.
“You have a way of instilling fear in them, although they look up to you. You have so much power and I don’t think you realize it.”
“Oh, on the contrary. I realize it,” Two parts of me are fighting a battle with the other, wanting to keep my secrets inside, but also wanting to reveal them. The open part of me wins and I tell Philippe the real reason I wanted to open La Bellezza. “My nonna used to let me stay in the kitchen with her. From a very young age I saw her command everyone’s attention, even the men. She gave me good advice on that day. I’d say I couldn’t have been older than four or five but she told me the one way to ensure you have power over a man is through his stomach. I remember the way she looked at me, how she grabbed me by the neck to never let a man have power over me. Sadly, there’s only been one man who’s ever been able to.” I grab the new glass of Pinot Grigio Italia brought over and bring it to my lips, savoring the sweeter taste.
“Who might that be?”
“My father. Who else?” I roll my eyes, taking another heavy sip.
I realize in this moment my father’s power over me is being lessened every day. One day soon, I’ll be a free woman. In a sense that is.
Chapter 8
Philippe
A week has gone by since Carla and I were in her restaurant. We ended up staying there for a good couple of hours, drank a few glasses of wine and enjoyed various items off the menu. We’ve had a couple other brief meetings where I’ve come by the restaurant, because it’s the one place I can find her. When she’s not in the apartment I don’t have to search very far. Carla is active in her business every single day of the week, except Sundays, which is the only day they close. She’s stated to me it’s the day of rest and should be treated as so.
So, it’s Sunday and instead of resting I want to go explore more of Seattle. Since I’ve been here I haven’t gone to see the city. I’m hoping to talk Carla into coming along with me.
She ran around with her brother Gianni earlier today and just arrived back at the apartment an hour ago. I decided to give her some time to decompress before inviting her out with me. While Carla was relaxing I was on a conference call with my right hand man, Florin, who’s been back in Munich handling business for me alongside Luna. From what he’s told me she took a couple days off but has been insisting on overseeing some matters. The woman is a hard worker and never takes a moment for herself, so I’m relieved to find out she did take a small break.
“Is Greta causing any more problems?” I ask Florin about the biggest headache I have back in Munich. In all honesty, I was reluctant to leave because of the issues this woman has caused. She continuously tries to fuck with business for the Clans and has been trying to bring drugs into my city. I’m the type of man who puts up with little bullshit, especially this.
I hear him take a heavy breath, “Nothing I can’t handle. You’re supposed to be enjoying your time with Carla, so I won’t interrupt your trip with unnecessary stressors.”
I don’t realize I’ve been clenching my fist until I glance down to my lap. Anything remotely related to Greta infuriates me. If I was gasoline, she’d be the match that causes me to burn down the entire city. “What’s happened since I’ve been gone?”
“I caught a couple of her men trying to sell heroin to kids on the street.”
“Kids?” I question, wanting to make sure I’ve heard him correctly.
“Yes, they were seventeen.”
“Please tell me you handled it.”
“Of course. We intervened before they got the drugs and met with the boys’ parents. I offered your help in assisting them on locating a rehab center for their children. They were grateful for your generosity.”
I’m relieved at hearing how Florin handled things. He did everything as I would. “Good. Drugs are a silent killer. I do my best to keep Munich safe from addiction and the horrors that come with it, however we know people like Greta will try to fight against us every step of the way. How did you handle the men?”
“I slit their necks personally and hung them up in town. It was all over the news and while the police are trying to look like they’re investigating it, we both know they aren’t. Greta should’ve received our message by now.”
The Clans pay the police to stay out of our business handsomely. They know we’re not the true enemy here. What many people don’t realize is that organized crime keeps control over a large portion of other criminal acts. Though, there are people like Greta who try to mess up the hierarchy.
“Good. Keep me updated if anything else progresses.”
“Will do, Philippe. Are you off to do something with Carla?” Florin asks.
“Yes, I’m going to try and talk her into going out with me. I haven’t had much time to go around the city, so I’m hopeful she’ll be my personal tour guide.”
“Ah, it sounds like fun. Enjoy your time, and you won’t hear from me incase shit hits the fan.”
“Alright. Do me a favor and make sure Luna doesn’t work too hard. I know you’ll never get a vacation while I’m away, although it doesn’t mean she needs to work herself into the ground. She does get to take a break while I’m not in Munich.”
Florin chuckles and even though we’re thousands of miles away it’s like I can see his facial reaction. “You know I can’t tell that woman what to do. She’s stubborn as a mule.”
“Yeah, but still try.” I comment as we say our goodbyes and I end the call. Sliding the phone into my blazer pocket, I rise from my seat on the edge of my bed, leave my bedroom and go into the living room where Carla is reading a book on the couch.
I walk up behind her, place my elbows on the back of the couch and peer into what she’s reading.
It’s never been easy being the daughter of a mafioso, but I do my best. He wants me to be the picture-perfect woman, to radiate innocence with every step I take, but I cannot. My reasoning is simple —I’m not a porcelain doll. I have flaws, imperfections and even worse than that . . . I’ve done things I can’t take back.
“What’s the name of the book? Looks pretty good,” I say, causing Carla to fly out of her seat.
She turns around with her hand on her heart, breathing in and out quickly. “Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak up on people?”
“It’s not my fault you weren’t aware of your surroundings,” I chuckle, teasing her. Over the last w
eek we’ve been bickering with playful banter back and forth. In a sense it’s been refreshing. Carla pulls her brows together and gives me the impression she’s about to give me a stern talking to, but I interject just as she’s about to speak. “I was hoping you’d accompany me today. I had plans to see your fabulous city.”
She cocks her head to the side, “You want me to tour you around?”
I nod, “I sure do. I’d love to go to the Space Needle if you’re okay with it.”
Carla giggles, “How touristy of you. Are you sure you want to go? It’s likely to be a zoo.”
“Yes, it’s on my to-do list. How could I come to Seattle and not go to the thing it’s most known for?”
Carla walks around the couch and comes up to me. Placing her hand on my shoulder, she skims it over and wraps her hand around part of my neck. I’ve never had a woman do this to me. Usually it’s been the exact opposite. Although, somehow I enjoy the way she’s touching me. Feeling her soft fingertips gently caressing the back of my neck.
I want to take this opportunity to press my lips against Carla’s for the very first time. However, she pulls away within an instant and I start to wonder if she’s a mind reader. “Come on, let’s get going.”
***
Carla acted like she didn’t want to take me to the Space Needle but when we got there I knew that wasn’t the case. She was all smiles as she showed me other key areas of her city by pointing them out from the top. We spent a little over three hours there, as cliché as it may be, and had a snack at the café inside.
Even though I could tell the two of us were having a good time, Carla wasn’t fully enjoying herself. I highly doubt accompanying your fiancé around town is her idea of a romantic date. Of course we’re not traveling familiar territory here. I imagine the only type of sexual relationships we’ve had were one night stands or short-term relationships. The romantic aspect isn’t exactly here yet for us, and I can assume it won’t be for quite a while.
“Do you want to head back to the apartment, or head out to get some dinner?” I ask her as we walk off the elevator which lets us out at the bottom of the Space Needle.
“I’d love to eat . . . and I know where I’m taking you. This was nice but it wasn’t fun. I want to show you the essence of Seattle I love, Philippe. There’s only one place I can take you to show you what I mean.”
“Alright. . . .” I’m a bit nervous about where Carla intends to take me. It’s no secret she’s promiscuous and I have a feeling she’s going to take me somewhere I never thought I’d ever venture to.
We get in Carla’s Ferrari Spider and she zips us around town. In less than twenty minutes we’re in a different part than I’ve been to before and are parking in a reserved spot. “Is this your parking space?”
Carla giggles, raising a brow. “Yes, I’m a good friend of the owner.” Something about the way Carla tells me she’s a friend makes me think there’s something more. Especially considering what I saw a week ago. I still have yet to fully process all of it, nor have we had any more conversation about it.
We exit her vehicle and walk around the corner of the building. I look up to see an extravagant red sign for The Tea House. There’s a sign on the front door stating you have to be twenty-one or older to enter and identification will be checked. Below it is a sign of their business hours, showing they’re open from six in the evening to two in the morning every day. I want to peer in the windows of the establishment but I’m unable to. The windows have a dark tint over them which make it unable to see a thing. So much so that I can’t even tell if they have lights on inside.
Carla puts her hand on the golden handle of the door and now is when I realize it’s not just a typical handle. The handles are golden dragons and as I pass them I see the detail put into both of them. I follow Carla inside and am met with two tall, muscular men in black suits. They have sunglasses on and seem to be in a defensive stance. “Miss Moretti, it’s lovely to see you again. Please make your way inside to your usual table.” One of the men tells her and she moves forward, but when I go to follow, he puts a hand out in front of me.
“Who are you, mister?”
Carla turns around and places her hand on the bouncer’s arm. “Gene, Philippe is with me.”
“This guy is with you? Doesn’t seem to be your type, Miss Moretti.” Gene grumbles.
“I shouldn’t have to repeat myself. Philippe, please come with me.” Carla hisses and Gene removes his hand. I go up next to her and walk alongside her. She turns her head toward mine as we walk. “They call him Mean Gene. He might be six foot three but he’s got eight feet of attitude.”
“He should worry about who he gives attitude.” I grumble out as we reach her table. It’s located at the front of the club. I’m not typically a man who uses his position to intimidate others. However, the way I was just treated irritates me. I regret bitching until I see Carla give me a look that shows me she likes what just slipped out —the dominance that is.
The inside of this club is a bit different than any others I’ve ever been to. Usually there’s a dance floor in the center and seating is around the sides in marked VIP sections, or on the second floor. Here there are booths and tables spread in front of a stage. But the stage comes out into the dining area. It kind of resembles how a river breaks into multiple streams, each going in a different direction.
Carla goes to where one of the aisles come right up to a booth and takes a seat. She scoots in onto the red velvet material and I get in next to her. We’re barely seated when a beautiful Asian woman comes up to us in a white kimono with cherry blossoms covering the fabric. Her hair is tied up and from the looks of it she has a real cherry blossom holding it together.
“Would you like your usual Miss Moretti?” The girl asks Carla, who immediately nods.
“Yes and order a double of it please. I want Philippe to have the complete experience while we’re here tonight.”
Carla leans over to me and whispers in my ear, “I can guarantee this is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. The Tea House isn’t a typical bar, or club. I’m wondering if you’ve figured it out yet.” She tilts her head to face me a bit more, adding a wink on at the end.
I glance around the club and I can honestly tell her I’m not sure what this place is. I’ve seen my fair share of movies . . . so I give her my best guest. “A geisha club?” I chuckle at the end, watching her expression shift into nothing but amusement.
“Oh God no, silly. I’ve brought you to a burlesque club, and one owned by my good friend Misha.” Carla finishes speaking and truly surprises me as she places her lips on mine in a short, sweet kiss. I don’t know what I was expecting from her, but I had thought when we did share our first kiss it would be fueled by passion. I’m not complaining here, but I do think there is a right time for everything.
“I hear my name,” A woman’s voice says from behind us. Carla and I both turn and I watch as Carla rises, goes over to the other end of the booth and meets this woman for a hug. This must be Misha. She’s a visibly beautiful woman. Comparable to Willow’s beauty, but her facial structure is a bit thinner. Her hair a chocolate brown and she has it pulled in a half up, half down fashion. Her makeup is light which is surprising. I’d think the owner of this establishment would want to look as regal as the location. Misha is dressed a bit differently from her employees. She’s in a skin-tight black dress that stops at her knees, but from what I can tell she’s wearing red bottomed shoes.
“I was only telling Philippe my good friend who owns the club,” Carla teases, moving in for a hug from her friend.
“Ah,” Misha pauses and looks in between Carla and I. “I imagine you’ll stay for the burlesque show, but I can’t help but wonder if you’re coming home with me tonight, or if the two of you?”
Hearing Misha’s word this evokes a sense of disbelief within me. I want to be the better man and keep my anger within me, but I can’t hold back the feelings that are taking over my body. I snap out at
both the women, “No, we’ll be going home alone.” I don’t stick around, wanting only to escape this conversation and exit the booth, heading towards the front doors of the establishment. If I need anything right now, it’s some fucking air.
Chapter 9
Carla
“What on Earth?” Misha mutters out, glancing at me like I know what’s going on. I shut my eyes firmly, silently berating myself for not telling Misha anything about Philippe. She’s been a good friend of mine for years, but every few weeks her and I would have a rendezvous to take the edge off. Especially if we haven’t had our itch scratched in quite a while. It’s much safer to be with a trusted friend than some random person you meet at a bar who could have any STD on the planet.
“Philippe isn’t just any man, Misha.” I say, not sure how to get my words out. She’s a simple owner of this burlesque club. She wouldn’t understand anything about my family, what we’re known for, or how this engagement was even put together.
“What does that mean?” Misha asks, crossing her arms.
“He and I are getting married.”
Misha’s eyes go wide, “Holy shit. I had no idea you were engaged. Jesus, I’m so sorry I said what I did. No wonder he ran out of here upset. Shit! Go, get up and go after him!” Misha motions with her hands for me to get going and it’s like her motions are lining up with my thoughts. I felt the need to stay back and explain myself, but I know I need to go after him. Lord knows what is running through his mind right now.
I scoot over to the other end of the booth and chase after him in four-inch heels. My feet are killing me but I can’t be a little bitch right now. It’s my fault he’s upset in the first place. I make my way through the burlesque club and walk through the two double doors. When I’m outside, I look to the right and left not seeing Philippe within the distance.
“Fuck,” I hiss out, putting my hands up on my forehead in frustration. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I repeat, kicking the brick on the outside of The Tea House.
Ruthless (The Clans Book 8) Page 5
