Page 18 of Beauty and the Boss

“That I do, boss. I’ve always known.”

“Well, however bad I made her feel the day I sent her away to safety, today was worse. I feel like I’ve let her down all over again, Gi. And now it looks like I’ve already made an enemy of this Lombardi.” I run a hand through my hair distractedly. Cecelia only reappeared in my life an hour ago and already I’m agitated. I finish my cigarette and crush it out in the glass ashtray.

“I’ll do some more digging, find out if he’s anyone we need to be worried about. He might end up being harmless enough.”

Or he might not, given his sick predilections and the way he looked at me, especially where Cecelia’s concerned, I think. And if he is trouble, I need to be smart about the way I deal with him. I can’t risk being sent back inside, not now that I’ve found her again.

“How are things progressing at Cinque Anni? Are we going to be ready for opening night next week?” I ask, bringing the topic of conversation back to business.

“All good on that score. Gustavo’s at the bar now making sure everything’s running smoothly. He’s taken a fancy to one of the new waitresses. She’s giving him quite the spring in his step. Seems he’s not the only one dead set on a Sicilian woman.”

I smile wryly. “You’d better warn him mixing business with pleasure doesn’t always work out the way you want it to.”

“I bet he’ll take his chances anyway,” Gianni replies, tapping his fingers again.

I huff out a laugh and nod my agreement, knowing we’re not just talking about Gustavo and the waitress. “I’ll drop by the bar in a few days. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Will do, boss,” he says, draining his drink. He stands, preparing to leave. “And I’ll be in touch as soon as I know more about Lombardi.”

I don’t have to wait long as the day after our meeting, Gianni calls.

“Boss, guess who’s just made a reservation for opening night at Cinque Anni?” I can hear the amusement in his voice, and I think I know the answer, but I ask anyway.

“Who?”

“Raphael Lombardi. Reservation for two. VIP table plus champagne.”

“What are the chances?” I ask. I end the call and smirk. Where better for Gianni to observe Lombardi than my own bar? By this time next week, I might know for sure whether he’s trouble or not, and if he is, whether that means Cecelia needs my protection. It’s as good a start as any in my plan to win her back.

Nine

RAPHAEL

“Your birthday chariot awaits, Miss DeMarco,” I say, arms wide in front of the limousine I arranged for tonight, helpfully funded by Dante. The driver holds open the door as Cecelia walks down the wide path from the front door, Connie waving from the arched threshold. Dante is working late so Connie has offered to stay home to look after Micah, and I have a feeling that’s a deliberate move on his part. If he hadn’t, I know that Cece would have asked Connie to come too, and I want it to be just the two of us. Tonight, three is definitely a crowd.

She turns back to her sister and returns her wave. “Give Micah another goodnight kiss from me!” she says.

“Of course I will, little sister. Now go and enjoy yourselves!” Connie replies, smiling at us.

Cece always looks stunning to me but tonight she’s a knockout, plain and simple. Her long dark hair is pinned on top of her head, a few curly tendrils framing her smoky eyes and red lips. She’s wearing a one-shouldered knee-length black fitted dress which accentuates her slim but shapely figure perfectly, and she’s paired it with strappy red heels. No bra as far as I can tell, which thrills me. She looks like the winner of a beauty pageant, and she takes my breath away.

“Wow, Cece, you get more gorgeous every year,” I say as she reaches the limousine, and she giggles at the compliment, playfully tapping my arm. I’ve already got a semi and I have to adjust myself as I climb in behind her.

Inside, her eyes are wide and childlike as she looks around at the champagne in a bucket of ice, bright red helium balloons and the selection of her favorite sweet treats that I’ve laid on for her. “Raphy, this is wonderful!” she exclaims, popping a chocolate in her mouth and settling back on the curved seat.

“I told you we were going to celebrate in style this year. Now, I know it’s not technically your birthday until tomorrow but let’s start as we mean to go on… drink?” I say, holding up the champagne bottle.

She beams at me and claps her hands excitedly, just like when she turned eighteen. As much as I wish I could turn back time, I’m reveling in this moment, and looking forward to all the other surprises I have planned for tonight.

We arrive at the newly opened Cinque Anni and bypass the already long queue after I’ve given my name to the doorman. The place itself is rustic yet glamorous, cozy yet spacious, and mixes traditional touches with modern fittings. Pendants hanging from exposed beams create small pools of light amongst the shadows, the exposed brick walls a contrast to the cream leather banquette seating and chairs. The music is upbeat, and well-dressed, good-looking people move their bodies and mouths in time with it. The atmosphere feels appropriately celebratory and I’m feeling smug that I chose such a perfect place for such a special occasion.

I take Cece’s hand and we’re shown straight to the VIP table I’ve booked which offers waitress service and, equally as importantly, privacy. I’m not giving other men the chance to drool all over her or press up against her or offer to buy her drinks. She’s mine tonight and I want her all to myself.

We get settled in the roped-off and raised VIP area in the far corner of the bar. There are a few other people in this section already, clearly a few drinks in, but after a quick scope around us, I judge we’ve got the best table by the back wall. Cecelia looks impressed too and I feel a surge of excitement and optimism. This is where I’m going to ask her to be my wife, and this is where she’s going to accept, I can feel it. I’ve already ordered another bottle of champagne for later, but first we’re going to enjoy a few of her favorite cocktails, loosen up, have some fun.

“Thank you so much for this, Raphy,” she says, hooking her bag over the back of the chair and raising her voice slightly to be heard over the beat of the music. “Ever since we were children you’ve always known how to make me smile. The limo, this bar—you’re really spoiling me!” She leans towards me and kisses my cheek. “Thank you,” she repeats.

“You deserve it all, and more,” I say, chancing a stroke of her exposed shoulder. God, this girl makes me want to behave recklessly. As I run my fingers down her smooth olive skin, I feel a prickle on the back of my neck and turn to see a tall, suited man leaning against the wall a few meters away, watching us. As soon as he notices I’ve spotted him, he moves away, merging into the crowd. When I turn back, Cecelia is already looking at the cocktail menu, although it’s more like a book, pages filled with descriptions and illustrations of elaborate looking drinks.

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