Page 62 of The Bonventi Secret
"Well, I only use Rolls Royce on very special occasions."
The car makes its way into the city, and Chicago's lights are a blur as we pass. We're in silence for a bit, and I find myself stealing glances at Enzo. His profile is sharp, his expression unreadable. I wonder what thoughts are swirling behind those piercing blue eyes of his.
"Is everything alright?" he asks, catching me staring.
I offer him a small smile. "Just taking it all in. This is all so new to me."
Enzo's hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. "I know it must be overwhelming. But I promise, I will keep you safe. You are mine now, Livia, and I protect what is mine."
I nod, unable to find the right words to express the range of emotions swirling within me.
Soon the car comes to a stop, and Enzo gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "We're here."
As he helps me out of the car, I look up and read the sign. "La Sfera Nera," I say to Enzo, the name sounding ominous.
"It means the black sphere, you'll see why."
Enzo's hand finds the small of my back and guides me inside. As we enter, he turns to me and whispers, "Welcome to the heart of the Bonventi empire."
As we step into La Sfera Nera, I'm left surprised. The unassuming exterior gives way to a luxury restaurant.
The first thing I smell is the rich aroma of Italian cuisine mingling with aged whiskey and what I would assume are the finest wines from Tuscany.
The domed ceiling arches high above us, adorned with intricate frescoes that seem to dance in the soft, flickering light of the candles. At the center of it all hangs an enormous wrought-iron sphere, its black surface reflecting pinpricks of light like a starry night sky.
Now I understand the name.
There's dark wood paneling all around and plush leather armchairs and booths. The occupants engaged in hushed conversations.
The patrons look fancy, and I suddenly feel out of place, a mere graduate student in a world of powerful brokers and mobsters. Enzo leads me deeper into the restaurant, his hand never leaving the small of my back.
A maître d' approaches us, greeting Enzo in an almost nervous way. "Mr. Bonventi, your usual table is ready."
Enzo flashes the man a charming smile. "Excellent. Lead the way."
As we walk, I lean over to Enzo. "Quite the crowd tonight," I say, trying to mask my nervousness.
He leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. "I told them my beautiful fiancée was joining me."
I giggle and blush at the same time. Ironically, it helps me relax.
The maître d' leads us away from the main dining area, down a corridor lined with artwork that looks valuable enough to fund a small country. We pass several closed doors before stopping at one at the end of the hall.
The maître d' opens it with gusto, revealing a private dining room that's absolutely beautiful. A single table sits in the center, draped in deep red silk. A crystal chandelier hangs above, casting a soft, romantic glow.
"Your table, Mr. Bonventi," the maître d' says, pulling out a chair for me.
Enzo gestures for me to sit, his eyes never leaving my face. "Thank you, Emilio."
I perch on the edge of the chair, my fingers gripping the armrests as Enzo takes the seat across from me. Emilio discreetly steps away, leaving us alone in the intimate space.
I clear my throat. "This place is impressive."
Enzo shows a slight smile. "I'm glad you approve," he says in a low tone, and takes my hand, "You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, by the way."
I feel heat rise to my cheeks at his compliment. "You clean up rather nicely yourself."
"I'm only decent when you're on my arm," he says.
