Page 50 of Princess's Revenge

There’s a red carpet with the stanchions and the ropes…it’s a full five-star affair. People are lined up down the block—all dressed in the sexiest fashions that New York has to offer.

This was the place to be seen!

I pull up to the curb, right opposite the door and Andrea says, “Wow! I’ve never been to a place like this.”

I give her a wink.

We get out of the car and I toss my keys to a valet in a red jacket. They’re supposed to know me. I’m in the select group of people who get their car parked, free food, booze and anything else I want.

Andrea is going to find outwhyvery soon, but Anthony told me not to tell her—he wants her reaction to be authentic.

I go around the car to meet Andrea at the rope, and the bouncer—whose muscles are so big, I doubt he can wipe his own ass—looks me up and down.

I haven’t seen this guy before. He jerks his thumb and snarls, “Back of the line pal.”

Another guy in a red jacket pushes him out of the way instantly, “I’m sorry about that Mr. Bertinelli. Tommy is new. It’s so good to have you again. Please, this way, I have a table set up for you in the VIP section.”

I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s been trained to kiss ass with the best of them.

“Thanks.” I take Andrea’s hand and we walk up the carpeted steps, through a bronze venetian archway, and into the noisy club.

Inside, the mass of humanity is sweaty, drugged and dancing as if it’s their last night on earth. Bottle service is in full swing and the Cristal is flowing like there’s a three-for-one special.

The music istranceand the bass makes my bones rattle.

Our polite lacky steers us to the right, past another set of bouncers, behind yet another rope, and up an elegant marble staircase.

He leads us to a little, round, white table with aluminum chairs on a balcony overlooking the dance floor—it’s quite a view.

There are six more tables like ours and three huge booths on this level.

Through the magic of architectural design, you can actually talk to someone up here without shouting. The thumping music is focused on the sea of people below us…and fills this area only slightly.

Andrea is wide-eyed and beaming. I hold out her chair for her and she sits.

The waiter asks, “Champagne?”

I look at Andrea in deference as I take my own seat—She nods with enthusiasm.

I give him a thumbs up.

“Something to eat perhaps?”

We’re probably not going to be here that long, but…fuck it…might as well inconvenience these assholes. “Sure, the canapés to start.

He nods and sets off.

Andrea laughs, “This is amazing! I’ve never been to a VIP section before!”

“Get used to it sweetheart,” I wink, “from now on, everything you do is going to be VIP.”

Andrea holds the copper railing and peers out at the crowd. She looks mesmerized—It’s really cute.

I stand when I see a slickly dressed gentleman coming to me with his arms out. He’s got a full head of hair. The suit is Versace. He’s in great shape and he’s a murderer.

“Oh!” I react like I’m happy to see him.

We kiss each other on both cheeks and hug, patting each other on the back like old friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time…which iskind oftrue, but not really.

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