Page 43 of Tainted Princess
When our meals came, we ate in mostly pleasant silence, just enjoying not feeling awkward as fuck for a change. My phone beeped a few times, and I knew that I was gonna have to swing bySin Cityagain tonight or Rock was gonna lose his shit.
If I had to sleep next to a nearly naked Francesca again tonight and not touch her, I just might lose mine.
When the check came, I signed for the meal, leaving a tip for the staff like I always did. As we stood to leave, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen door, and a tall guy came stumbling out, tripping over the tray of food he’d just spilled. The kid was huge, in a blocky muscle-head lookin’ way, but the look on his face was pure horror. Immediately, his eyes shot around the restaurant, and I saw him cringe when they landed on Carla. As she went hustling over, his shoulders hunched up and he turned his red face away from her, but I didn’t miss the way his fists clenched as she started loudly berating him for his mess.
I turned to the door, intending to leave Carla to handle her staff, but I froze when I noticed Francesca watching the scene intently, a frown on her face. After a moment, she looked at me, smoothing her face back to neutral, before heading back to the car. I glanced behind me again, seeing Carla standing over the kid, arms crossed as she scowled down at him while he picked up the dropped tray.
I figured I was gonna need to talk to Emilio about that; Carla may be the assistant manager, but I was the only one around here with real power, and she’d better not fuckin’ forget it.
We drove back to the condo in silence. Just as I drove into the underground parking lot, my phone rang, the noise coming through the in-car Bluetooth system. The on-dash display let me know it was Rocco calling, and I thumbed the answer button without thought.
“Rock,” I said shortly, backing into my designated space but leaving the car running.
“Enzo, we gotta problem, man.”
I glanced at Francesca, but she was staring out the side window, politely ignoring the conversation.
At least, she appeared to be.
“What kinda problem?”
“The Soviet kind.”
“Really?” I asked, truly surprised. “The fuck you mean? Why would the Russians be giving us shit?”
We’d been on good terms with the Russians for well over two years now. Anton, the localPakhan, and I had come to terms we both found agreeable, and the blood shed stopped. I got the clubs and the gambling; he kept the drugs and the girls. The only caveat was that our organizations stayed the hell away from each other.
It was the perfect solution, and both Anton and I were quite happy with the way things had turned out. If he was pushing back now, something must have happened.
“Looks like we had a candy man in house last night.”
“No fuckin’ way,” I barked, and beside me, Francesca jumped. Glancing at her again, I noticed she was now looking at me, lips pursed, but she remained quiet. “Even if he was angry, there’s no way Anton would be stupid enough to turn up right under my nose like that.”
“Well,” Rock continued, his tone flat, “I am lookin’ at some video footage from inside the club that says otherwise. Word on the street is that the Russians got themselves a new product, and they are lookin’ to expand their reach.”
“Fuck that. If they want to expand, there are tons of places they can do it that don’t have my fuckin’ name on the door.” I flexed my hands, gripping the steering wheel as we sat parked in my space. “Get a hold of Anton. Set a meet. If he’s got beef, I wanna know what the fuck it is so we can sort this shit out.”
“You got it, boss. You comin’ in later.”
Again, I looked at Francesca, sitting expectantly beside me. I could stay here, head upstairs and wait to hear from Anton. But the thought of being in close proximity to her for any length of time was as intoxicating as it was infuriating. Without taking my eyes off of her, I replied, “Yeah,” then disconnected the call.
Francesca looked at me quizzically.
“Are you coming up?”
I turned my eyes to the windshield when I answered her. “I have to head into the club now. There are things I need to handle.” I couldn’t tell her that being alone with her was fuckin’ with my head. Even as we sat here, the gentle scent of her perfume, soft and flowery, was giving me thoughts I wasn’t prepared to be thinking.
“I could come with you.”
I snorted. “Yeah, no.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice quiet. “Of course. What time will you be back? I can hold dinner until then.”
I clenched my teeth together. “Late,” I practically snapped. “Really late. You should just eat and go to bed.”
She said nothing, but I could feel her eyes on me, taking my measure and I knew she found me wanting.
“Right.” That was all she said, but the single word was filled with accusation, and that in itself pissed me off.
I didn’t owe her shit, never mind an explanation on how I lived my life. She knew what this was as much as I did, and her acting all hurt and annoyed was some serious bullshit.
I didn’t say any of that, however. I just stared ahead and waited. Finally, she took the hint and exited the car, closing the door quietly behind her.
I watched her in the mirror as she waited for the elevator, and as the doors closed, I tried to pretend I didn’t see the accusation and hurt in her eyes.
And pretended it didn’t hurt me, too.
