Page 15 of Mafia King: Matteo
And if I find him, what am I going to say? I want another hookup? I can’t let him know I like him. I’m sure he’s a man with women who willingly give themselves to him, and I’m sure he takes advantage of zero commitment.
What if he’s married?
That would be the reason for the anonymity. It’s possible I exchanged sex with a stranger, and now he’s lost to me. Madame M will never disclose personal information. But I’d like to pick her brain about what they discussed while drinking at the bar.
I apply my facial cream and wrestle with whether to go back to the club to see if he’s there or wait until he’s bored with the women there and let him find me. I finish with my makeup and stand. I take myself in. He’s right. I turn heads when I walk into a room, but I don’t take it seriously. My father would demand nothing less from me.
I’m meeting Izzy for brunch in an hour. I will leave early as I no longer have a personal guard to drive me. My father will insist on one of his men driving me when it’s late or a special event. I could call a driver, but I decided I would walk today. The restaurant is nearby, and it’s a nice day.
I grab my phone on the nightstand and head to my closet to pick an outfit. My sick closet and everything in it screams money. I’m no longer self-conscious about it, knowing that Izzy has the same kick-ass wardrobe and shoe collection. Now that she’s part of the family—she went from rags to riches and has an enviable family lineage.
I slip into a belted Fendi mini dress resembling a trench coat, step into my favorite black knee-high boots, and zip them. Grabbing my purse and coat from last night, I leave my apartment.
As I walk to the restaurant, appropriately named The Brunchery, the crisp winter air fills my lungs and clears my head. I check my peripheral vision to make sure no one is following me. I’m not overly concerned, but my Spidey senses tell me I’m being watched. I cross a bridge that provides a good vantage point and stop to look around the park, pretending to take in the scenery. I resume my walk, seeing nothing unusual and nobody lurking in the shadows.
The leaves smell of fall, reminding me of the holidays ahead and that I’ll be alone for them—again. When I arrive at The Brunchery, I’m relieved to see Izzy waiting outside.
It’s only now that my senses fire. My Spidey sense tells me I’m being watched. I move to overlook the park as a pretense to see if I can find any strangers lurking around. Nothing happens. It must be the past catching up to me. I resume my walk and am relieved when I see Izzy waiting outside.
“Izzy,” I call her with relief in my voice.
“Alena,” she hugs me, and we enter the establishment to be seated.
The hostess leads us to a bistro table for two near the windows. As I drape my coat over the back of my chair, I wonder if the table will be big enough to hold both plates. The server arrives to take our drink order. Izzy asks for water with lemon, and I order a mimosa.
“Izzy,” I lean over the small table as she struggles to fit with her pregnant belly. “I’m into the mystery man. I have no idea who he is. What do I do?”
“I have no clue. Do you want Dmitry to find out? Why not ask Kirill?”
“He likes me. I can’t use my best friend to hunt down the man I want to fuck me until I can no longer walk.”
“Oh, so it’s like that?” Her eyes grow wide. She gives me a reassuring smile. “How do you know he won’t find you?”
“Doubtful. Hence, anonymous sex club,” I whisper before the waitress reappears. Izzy orders the daily gyro omelet special.
“I’ll take the New York Strip omelet, tomatoes, no potatoes, and another mimosa, please.”
“Alena, are you sure? You’re used to straight vodka, but it’s early, and there’s tons of sugar in the orange juice.”
I’m not pencil-thin, it’s true. I’m Russian, and like many Russian women, I’m big-boned and big-breasted. If a man is looking for a woman with a ballerina body, I’m not it. My ass could be bigger and my hands smaller, but I make the best of it. I wear clothes that draw attention to my cleavage, but the look is not slutty.
My butt is too small for a woman with huge breasts, but I’ve learned to cope with disappointments. I’m not waif-like, so if a man wants a petite woman, I’m not it. I’m not tall, and I don’t think my fingers are pretty at all. I flip my hair straightened hair over my shoulder. I’m lucky I don’t have to fuss with it much to make it look professional.
“It’s fine. I’m not developing a drinking habit,” I reassure her. “Although, there is something I might be addicted to...”
Izzy giggles. “I know. So, we’re back to talking about Mr. Grey.”
“I can’t get him out of my head. This is insane,” I say as I finish the mimosa before the second one arrives. “I don’t know how to get him out of my head,” I say as my head sinks into my hands. “Of all the men I wished I had met over the years, I finally found one who knows what he’s doing, and he’s gone.”
“You could go back to the club.”
“I’d look desperate. He impresses me as a man who’s all business. I’m sure he doesn’t want attachment. I don’t blame him, but if I continue to settle for hookups, I might never get married. It doesn’t help that Dad is dragging his feet when it comes to finding me a husband. He would let me pick my own.”
“Yeah, lately, everyone is now waiting to see when my father will turn the empire over to Dmitry.”
“So, my father isn’t the only one in a wait-and-see approach?”
“Not at all. Don’t get worked up over it. It’s just business. There’s always a bit of uncertainty before the next Don takes over. Hopefully, it won’t take my father’s dying before my husband will take over as the new don.”
