19. Portia
19
PORTIA
“M-me?” I stutter. “Oh, I wasn’t eavesdropping?—”
“C’mon,” he interrupts, flashing a toothy grin, “a beautiful Black woman like yourself. You stand out in a place like this. You think I didn’t notice you the moment you walked in? You’re on TV, right? That cute one from the evening news?”
My protests fall flat.
Luigi beckons me over until I have no choice but to follow—or risk his potential wrath. He leads me back out to the dining room and orders one of his men to get up out of their chair so I can sit.
“How about you call over that woman you’re with?” he asks. “That your sister? She’s a cutie too.”
Jayla looks on the verge of passing out when she’s brought over to the table. A second soldier from Luigi’s crew gets up to make room for her.
Luigi either doesn’t pick up on our discomfort or he’s aware of it and chooses to rub it in that much more. He hasn’t stopped grinning as he glances between us and strikes up a conversation.
“Two beauties like you. Look at all those shopping bags at your table. Just out to treat yourselves?”
I nod tightly. “We were hungry and stopped by for lunch.”
“The server is my cousin. You know that? Elena says you ordered cannoli.”
“Dessert for lunch,” I add. “We were hungry and weren’t sure what we’d order ’til we saw the menu.”
“Coming to Bocca’s just for the dessert? That’s a first.”
I half rise out of my chair. “We really should be going.”
“Sit down, dollface. Nobody told you to go anywhere. We’re enjoying a nice lunch and invited you over as a courtesy. You appreciate the thoughtfulness, don’t you?”
Meeting Luigi’s taunting gaze, I’m aware how we’re being played. He knows the truth of the situation even if he hasn’t come right out and said it—I’m a reporter working a story and I was hoping to gain some insider info from them.
He’s dragging out the moment to demonstrate how easily he can intimidate people like me. Deciding my best bet is to be smooth and play along, I cast him a polite smile.
“Of course, I appreciate the consideration. Thank you.”
“What’re you two doing tonight?” asks the man on Luigi’s left. I recognize him as well from his well-known rap sheet around the city—Sergio Sacrimoni, the man who was miraculously acquitted on RICO charges. He blows cigarette smoke across the table and smashes the butt into an ashtray, his lips shaped like a trout’s mouth. “A couple tens like you. How about you join us for drinks?”
“That sounds like a great idea, Sergio. How about it, sweet cheeks?” Luigi asks.
Jayla stares at me so pointedly, brimming with so much discomfort that she’s on the verge of tearing up. I have to blink away from her and focus on the others or else risk coming across as even more rattled than we are. My smile remains on my face, if a little frozen.
“That sounds like a good time, but we already have plans.”
“So cancel them. Who could be more important than me?”
An answer comes immediately to Luigi’s question.
The doors to Bocca fly open and in strides our chauffeur, Gavino. Where he’s looked so cute and unassuming in the past—as recent as this afternoon driving us—he suddenly bears a severe expression worthy of one of Luigi’s men.
… or any of the men in Rafael’s employ.
He’s no longer a boyish, dimple-cheeked young man but somebody crashing the scene where an alleged mobster’s having lunch.
“Apologies for breaking up the moment, but these ladies have to go,” he says in his thick Italian accent. “My boss’s orders.”
Luigi hacks out a laugh, mirth shining on his pointed face. He takes one look at Gavino in his prim and proper chauffeur’s uniform, his grin cracked wide. “Your boss? Who’s your fucking boss, leccaculo ? The Monopoly man?”
“Rafael Calderone,” answers Gavino defiantly. “Ms. James is the woman of his interest. He sent her shopping this afternoon and now he would like her to return home. Are you ready to go, Ms. James?”
A distinct silence has fallen over the table. Luigi’s mocking smile has lost some of its luster as he eyes me and Jayla.
The two of us don’t need to be told twice—we’ve popped to our feet to cross over to Gavino’s side.
“Rafael Calderone,” Luigi repeats slowly. Then he nods as if in thought. “Who am I to stand in the way of such a renowned businessman? I didn’t realize he was dating the beautiful lady from the news. Such a shame I missed out.”
A cold shiver bristles its way down my spine. Luigi may seemingly be letting us leave, but there’s something unnerving about the way he goes about it. Everything from how he speaks to how he stares as we turn with Gavino and walk out makes me feel like the moment is much more significant than meets the eye.
I don’t breathe again until we’re at the town car, crawling into the backseat.
Jayla whacks me with a bag as soon as Gavino closes the door and walks around to the other side.
“I told you that was dumb as hell!” she cries out, purging the panic welled up inside. “We couldn’t have been more obvious!”
“Whose idea was it to order cannoli at lunchtime?” I snap.
“You got up to use the restroom, then slow-walked by their table!”
“Okay, okay, I’m in the wrong. I’m sorry, Jay.”
She folds her arms, shaking her head as she mumbles under her breath.
She doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the ride home.
Understandable considering what ended up happening.
Gavino drives us to our apartment in Crosby and takes the time to walk us up. Jayla darts inside without paying either of us mind. He stops me midway through my goodbye.
“Mr. Calderone would like you to spend the night at his place,” he says. “Would you be open to packing a bag and coming back down so I can drive you?”
I almost laugh at what sounds like a joke. “Wait, you’re not kidding?”
“I was on the phone with him when your sister and you went into Bocca. He was not pleased you stopped there,” he explains. “He sent me inside to collect you. He wanted me to let you know about staying the night.”
“Why couldn’t he ask me himself?”
“It has been a very busy day for him. He’s in business negotiations.”
“Right, forever busy businessman. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be down.”
Gavino nods like the loyal employee of Rafael that he is. He turns to go, his black suit jacket shifting to reveal a handgun holstered to his hip.
I reach out to touch his shoulder. “Are you carrying?”
Glancing down at his holster, he tugs at the lapel of his jacket to fix how it hangs on his torso. “Yes, signora . Mr. Calderone requires all his employees to be armed in the event of…”
“In the event of what?”
The corner of Gavino’s mouth lifts. “In the event of emergency situations. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Minutes later, I’m dragging dresser drawers open and packing things into my overnight bag thinking about what Gavino had said. The term ‘emergency situations’ is so vague it depends on what someone considers an emergency to be.
I hadn’t expected Gavino to interrupt our chat with Luigi Grasso, though I’m still lightheaded from relief.
Gavino had done so confidently, like he was certain Luigi wouldn’t—and even couldn’t—object. He had casually dropped Rafael’s name and Luigi seemed to realize he couldn’t control the situation like he had originally assumed.
How is a mobster like Luigi familiar with Rafael? Was it the same general knowledge the public has about Rafael as a billionaire businessman or does it stretch further than that?
It conjures up thoughts about the boxing championship match where Rafael had risen out of his seat and practically skewered Quinard Iverson with only a venomous look.
If looks could kill, Rafael’s glare would’ve had Iverson dropping dead on the spot.
The boxer had immediately backed down.
Virtually unheard of from the titan-sized boxing champ.
I’m frowning zipping up my bag and shaking away these thoughts.
Rafael is an intimidating man. He’s one of the richest men on the planet. It stands to reason that most people would be afraid of him when he flexed his power. He might be romantic and passionate with me, but it seems he has a formidable reputation with everyone else.
Jayla stops in the doorway to my bedroom, arms tightly folded, her expression still a little moody from earlier.
“Going somewhere?” she asks.
“Rafael asked me to spend the night.”
“Hmmm.”
“What’s the ‘hmmm’ for? Are you not speaking to me yet?”
“Hmmm nothing. Just thinking.”
“Okay, well, if you think of anything important, then text me. I’m out.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and squeeze past her into the hall.
Downstairs, Gavino opens the rear door for me with a smile and nod. He’s returned to his cute Italian-boy-next-door schtick, not the hardened enforcer he’d quickly turned into earlier at Bocca. I clear it out of my mind for the last time today and sit back to enjoy the ride on the way to Rafael’s.
* * *
Rafael’s whistle makes heat flush onto my skin.
I look up with a coy smile and wiggle my shoulders playfully. “Like what you see?”
“Do I like what I see?” he repeats, cracking a grin and stroking his bearded jaw in the sexiest manner possible. He starts toward me bare chested in nothing but his swim trunks. Once he reaches me, his arms circle my waist and tug me toward him. “I don’t think the answer yes would suffice.”
He drops sweet kiss after kiss on my lips. Little blips of affection that feel like an appetizer. I slide my hands up his chest and let out a throaty noise that almost resembles a purr.
“Good,” I answer. “This way I get more kisses.”
“Is this bikini new?” He steps back to appraise the tiny triangles of coral fabric tied strategically to my body. It’s more so an excuse to ogle me some more and make my temperature rise.
I’d probably feel slightly self-conscious with anyone else, but Rafael’s gaze is always appreciative. Even reverent.
“It is. Courtesy of you.” I drop a hand to my right hip and then pop it dramatically.
He laughs. “Sexy, dolcezza . Very sexy. I like it on you. That color looks amazing with your skin tone.”
Taking me by the hand, he leads me toward his jacuzzi. The water bubbles, the faintest curls of heat rising into the frigid air. He helps me step into the hot tub before he climbs in himself. We settle side by side in time for his maid Mara to arrive with refreshments.
I’ve spent so much time at his place over the last two weeks that his staff know me and I recognize most of them by name. My smile is my thank you as she delivers us some Campari sodas with an orange slice.
“Taste good?” Rafael asks after my first sip.
I go for another, nodding. “Very refreshing.”
“The first time I ever had alcohol, it was a sip from my grandmother’s Campari soda. I was eight and convinced that tiny sip of sugary liquor was enough to get me drunk. I walked around the house like a dizzy fool for the rest of the night.”
“The placebo effect?” I laugh along with him.
“Sure enough. Let me tell it, I was drunk off my ass. Nonna Ornella caught me and then took a pantofola to my ass.”
“A house slipper?”
His face becomes even more handsome with the grin he gives me. “Yes, dolcezza . She whacked the hell out of me with it. I learned my lesson fast.”
“The first time I ever tried alcohol, I was fifteen. Beer at a high school party.”
“Bad girl,” he says, raising his brows. “Who gave you this beer?”
“A boy—don’t look at me like that! He turned out to be a jackass I couldn’t stand being around. And if it makes you feel any better, I hated the taste of beer so much, I puked later that night on my way home. Then Mom and Dad caught me sneaking back in and grounded me for two months.”
“I agree with them. Sounds deserved.”
“You know you’re supposed to be on my side, right?”
“I am, dolcezza . But you know how I get when I hear about other men around you. Even some snot-nosed idiot from high school. I get territorial.” He releases a growl that makes me giggle as he closes in and captures my lips.
The kiss silences my giggle as I grab his face between my hands and part my lips. His tongue lashes against mine and the sweetness on my tastebuds explodes.
We taste like the sweet liquor we’ve just consumed, except even sweeter.
We kiss until we’re almost getting carried away, pressed up against the side of the hot tub. The bubbles froth around us, our passion permeating the air. His mouth breaks away from mine and kisses a path down the center of my throat.
My eyes flutter shut and my fingers dig into his dark hair.
He doesn’t stop ’til he’s spreading kisses across my clavicle and then lower, to the edges of my bikini top.
His name leaves my lips in a soft moan as he tugs aside the tiny triangle and then takes a peak into his mouth.
A rush of hot blood floods through me.
It feels so good I arch against his mouth and beg for more.
His tongue flicks against my nipple in patterns that set off every sensitive nerve ending in my breast. The rest of me is quivering before long.
Throbbing.
My pussy pulses in jealousy, slick by the sensations he’s inflicting on me.
It’s clear Rafael is showing me just how talented a tongue he has.
When he does return to my mouth for a kiss it’s to tell me there’s more to come.
“I can’t wait to taste you, dolcezza ,” he says, pressing his lips to mine. “ Leccherò quella figa per ore .”
I’m not sure what he’s saying, but something tells me it’s very dirty.
I shudder hearing the rumbly tenor of his voice and the heavy cadence of his breathing as he kisses me deeper. His palm fills with my bare breast, fingers tugging at the same nipple he was just sucking.
We’re seconds away from abandoning the jacuzzi altogether and heading inside to his bedroom.
A clear of a throat tells us we’re no longer alone.
Rafael glances over his shoulder, then shields my body with his and growls, “ Ti avevo detto di non interrompermi quando sono con lei .”
It’s Maurizio. He stands far enough away that he recognizes we’re in a private moment.
“ Ci sono affari importanti. è un’emergenza. Vito vuole parlare con te .”
Rafael’s jaw sets. “ Dammi un momento .”
Maurizio returns indoors.
Rafael swears under his breath and then helps fix my bikini top. The playful air about him is gone, his brow lined. “I have to go for a moment, dolcezza . Business calls.”
“Right now? It’s 9 p.m.”
“It should only be thirty, forty minutes tops. I’ll return as soon as I can. I’ll have Mara bring you a robe. You can head to my bedroom and get comfy, okay? Make yourself at home.”
Despite his marked irritation, he speaks to me so gently that I nod.
“Okay,” I say, adding an uncertain smile. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Good, dolcezza . We’ll pick up where we left off.”
With a parting kiss to my cheek, he climbs out of the bubbling jacuzzi and disappears through the same door Maurizio had appeared from.
I watch him go with a sigh, wondering what business could possibly be so important he’s dropping everything at nine o’clock at night. If maybe Rafael Calderone isn’t the unsuspecting businessman he’s claimed to be after all.