Chapter 12
TWELVE
Violetta
When I walk into the club, something is off.
I can't put my finger on what it is. Nothing has changed as far as I can see.
The lighting is the same amber glow. The music as the DJ gets warmed up for the night is the usual pounding beat.
There's a familiar smell of polished wood in the air from the freshly cleaned dance floor.
On the surface, everything is the same, but the place doesn't feel like it did a couple of nights ago.
Perhaps it's me. I am a little on edge. I blame Stefano for that.
Lina introduced the hulking brute to me as my driver, but I think we both know he's a jailer, assigned to make sure I go to work and come home again without incident.
He walked me inside, then told me he'd be sitting outside in the car until I'm done for the night.
I guess Damiano doesn't trust me not to run.
I head for the staffroom to put my things away and check my makeup before the club opens. I'm halfway along the corridor when Giorgio strolls toward me. A part of me wants to be angry with him for taking me to Damiano after I set Adamo free, but he was only doing his job.
"Signorina Caruso." His greeting is surprisingly formal, immediately putting me on guard. He usually calls me Vee, like everyone else around here does. Well, almost everyone. Neither Damiano nor Riccardo has ever addressed me that way.
"Giorgio," I say carefully. "Is everything okay?"
"Would you come to my office for a moment?"
I frown at that. Since when does he have an office? I follow him along the corridor, my confusion deepening when he leads me into Damiano's office. He moves behind the desk, putting space between us, but remains standing. He gestures toward the chairs on my side of the desk but I don't sit.
"What's going on?" I ask as trepidation creeps down my spine.
"Damiano has asked me to take over."
"The club?"
"Among other things, I'm now overseeing the hospitality arm of Damiano's business."
My eyes widen. "What about Paolo?"
Surely my manager is more experienced in the industry than someone who was working as a security guard?
"He's gone."
"What? Why?"
"Some of his decisions lately were…questionable."
Giorgio's gaze flickers to my elegant black dress, the usual uniform for hostesses at the club. Realization hits me. It's because of the corset Paolo asked me to model the other night. Damiano made his displeasure about that pretty clear, but I never imagined he would dismiss Paolo over it.
My former manager was here, like I was, from the day La Stanza Rossa opened, and he worked at one of Damiano's other clubs before that.
"Is that why you called me in here? To tell me you're in charge?"
"Yes, and to make Damiano's expectations clear." There's a flash of sympathy in his eyes and I know I'm not going to like what he says next. "You will be allowed to continue working here as long as your presence doesn't cause a distraction."
I purse my lips. "What sort of distraction?"
"Jealousies with other staff members, problems with the clientele, that sort of thing."
"What sort of problems with the clientele?" I demand. My customer service has always been impeccable.
"Issues with our male patrons. You are to avoid physical interactions with them."
Now I understand. I think about the way I greet men like Gregorio Farnese. "You mean like hugging them?"
Giorgio nods. "Yes, precisely that."
I grit my teeth, irritated that what I see merely as a friendly gesture is being outlawed.
"Is there anything else?"
"If I believe there is any risk of trouble, I will pull you off the floor. Damiano will not forgive any lapses in security, not where you're concerned."
"What has Damiano said about me?"
"Only that you're off limits and your safety should be our number one priority."
That's as good as marking me as his in front of everyone. I don't know how to feel about that. It's both overwhelming and comforting at the same time. Giorgio gives me an expectant look and I realize he's waiting for a response.
"Okay." There's no point in arguing about this with him. He's only the messenger.
He nods, dismissing me. Trying not to get upset that Damiano is managing every aspect of my life, I go to put my things in my locker.
When I open it, I find the black leather purse I left here the other night, but my phone is missing. The tablet I use for work is there, however, so I check what's on tonight's agenda.
There's a group coming in for a birthday celebration whose only request is that we keep the champagne flowing. That's easy enough. I'll make sure there's a bottle waiting for them when they arrive and ask the servers to keep them topped up.
A table has been reserved for Vittorio Bardi, a local businessman who expects groveling service.
He's not my favorite client. Luciano Vetti, a renowned plastic surgeon, is also expected.
He's very particular about his wine but he tips well.
I guess I won't need to rely on tips if I'm going to be Damiano's wife.
Not wanting to sour my mood, I shove that thought to the back of my mind.
After applying another coat of lip gloss, I straighten my dress and head for the bar, hoping to catch Elena before the club gets busy. We're not the closest of friends, but she is usually a good source of gossip. She might know where Paolo is, if he's okay.
Though he could be an asshole at times, I hate to think of him being out of a job because of me.
When I get to the bar, Elena isn't there.
The bar is being tended by a man I've never seen before.
Tall and broad-shouldered with a shaved head and a sleeve of intimidating tattoos on his left arm, he looks like he should be beating people up in the back alley, not serving drinks to Tuscany's elite.
"Where's Elena?" I ask.
"No idea." He looks at me in a way that isn't hostile exactly, but it's not warm either. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Signorina Caruso?"
I clench my fists at my sides as I realize the only way he'd know my name is if someone briefed him. A suspicion forms in my mind.
"Are you even a bartender?"
He shrugs. "I can mix drinks."
"Right."
Irritated, I turn and walk away. I was pleased when Stefano didn't follow me into the club because I thought it meant I was being granted a little freedom. La Stanza Rossa has excellent security so it isn't as if I'll come to harm in here.
Now it seems Damiano has installed one of his henchmen as bartender to keep an eye on me. It's irritating, but I refuse to let his overbearing behaviour put me off doing my job. The independence this job gives me is not something I'll relinquish lightly.
Before I can get myself too worked up over the situation, the first customers start to arrive. I soon settle into a rhythm, greeting people, finding out what they need from me, and making sure everyone has a great time.
When I finally get the chance to catch my breath, I spot Tatiana, one of the other VIP hostesses, standing by the bar. I walk over and gently pull her to one side.
"Do you know where Elena is?"
"Uh." The slight pause, the trepidation in her expression, tell me something bad has happened to her. "Riccardo came in last night. He told her to gather her things and come with him."
"Riccardo took Elena?" That's worse than I imagined. "Why?"
"I don't know, but she looked frightened, like she'd been caught." Tatiana leans closer, lowering her voice. "There's a rumor someone's been speaking to the Rossis."
My blood chills. I try to stay out of mafia business but I know the basics.
Damiano heads the most powerful family in the region, if not the whole of Italy.
The Rossi and Martelli families also control some of the criminal activity.
If Elena has been talking to the Rossis, her betrayal won't go unpunished.
"You think Elena would do that?"
"I don't know." Tatiana sighs heavily. "Look, don't tell anyone I told you this, but I saw her talking to a really sketchy guy a few nights ago. It seemed like he was threatening her. When I asked her about it she brushed me off."
Shit. If Tatiana is correct, Elena's in deep trouble.
I hate the thought she might have put herself in harm's way.
I could ask Damiano about her, but perhaps her fate is one of those things I'm better off not knowing.
No, that's cowardly. I need to use whatever influence I have to make sure she's safe.
As Tatiana walks off, I notice Vittorio Bardi trying to get my attention. I hurry over, apologizing profusely for keeping him waiting. He can be a real asshole if he feels he's not receiving premium service.
I lean in to hear his request over the steady thump of the music. He puts a hand on my arm and I wish I could shrug him off. He's one of those men who believes he's entitled to take whatever he wants and in the past he's made it clear I'm on his wish list.
I try to pull away, but he holds firm, muttering something crude to his companions about me wriggling. They all laugh. I smile politely because no matter how much I'd love to tell these men exactly what I think of them, I take pride in my professionalism.
Before I can extricate myself from Bardi's grasp, Giorgio appears at my side.
"Signorina Caruso, would you attend Signora Silvano's party, please?"
Under Giorgio's intimidating glare, Bardi drops his hand from my arm. I hurry away. As I head toward Alessia Silvano, the lead actress on a popular daytime soap, I turn to see Giorgio bending to speak to Bardi.
The older man stiffens in a way that suggests my new boss just threatened him. Great. So this is how my work life is going to be. Ignoring the anger pulsing in my veins, I plaster a smile on my face.
"Good evening, Signora Silvano. It's a pleasure to see you again." I nod my greeting to the other two women sitting with her on the velvet sofa. "May I fetch you another bottle of Prosecco?"
She shakes her head. "We're ready for some cocktails now."
I sift through my memories for her favorite cocktail. "Strawberry daiquiris, yes?"
Signora Silvano smiles, pleased that I remembered. "That would be lovely, cara."
I nod and head to the bar to ask the new guy for the drinks. To my surprise he immediately starts assembling the correct ingredients. Maybe he is just a bartender.
While I'm waiting for him to mix the drinks, Giorgio comes over.
"We need to talk."
"I'm fetching drinks for Signora Silvano."
"That's not your job. Let one of the servers do it." He waves over Sidonie and tersely tells her to see to the drinks. Then he puts a hand at my elbow and steers me away. He leads me through to the staff corridor.
"Why did Bardi have his hands all over you?"
Outrage courses through me. "He touched my arm. It was nothing. I was handling it."
"Didn't look like it to me and I doubt Damiano will see it that way."
"You're planning on telling him?"
Giorgio nods. "It's more than my life is worth to conceal things from him."
"But it was nothing." Actually, the proprietorial way he laid his hands on me was annoying, and Giorgio's intervention had allowed me to wriggle out of the situation, but I'm not about to admit that to him.
I blow out a breath. "If this is going to be your reaction every time a man gets handsy, it will be impossible for me to do my job.
" As I speak, it dawns on me that perhaps that's the point. "You don't want me here?"
"You're a complication I don't need." Giorgio leans back against the wall. "Look, Vee, I like you and so do the staff and customers."
"But?"
"Having you out there on the floor is just too much to manage. We all have other tasks."
My heart sinks. I hate that I can see his point of view.
"So you want me to quit?"
He shakes his head. "I want to move you to another role."
There aren't many options as far as I can see. "I don't want to work behind the bar."
"I'm not sure that would be any better."
"So what then?"
"I want you to take over our social media. Paolo didn't do enough with our online presence."
"But wouldn't I still have to spend time in the club to create content?"
Giorgio straightens when he realizes I'm interested in the idea.
"Yes, but it wouldn't be all the time. It would be much easier to manage."
It's tempting. Though I love my job, it doesn't offer me much of a challenge. This could allow me to put my creativity to use. A part of me wants to agree straight away, but I don't want Giorgio to think I've given in too easily.
"Can I give you an answer at the end of the night?"
"Of course, but give it some serious thought. I think you'd be great at this."
I don't get the sense he's trying to flatter me just to get me to agree.
"If that's all, can I get back to work now?"
"Yes, but remember, Signorina Caruso, there are eyes everywhere."
Bristling with annoyance at the return to formality and the warning, I go back to the lounge.
I stop by a booth where five young women I don't recognize are sitting.
A nervous energy buzzes about them that suggests it's their first visit to the club, or at least to the VIP lounge.
It turns out one of them is celebrating a promotion at work, so I have a complimentary bottle of champagne brought to them.
As I move around the room, checking everyone is happy, a strange sensation comes over me. It's that prickling awareness you get when you know you're being watched. I glance over my shoulder but nobody is looking at me.
Giorgio's words about there being eyes everywhere come back to me. Every inch of the club is covered by security cameras and Damiano has a team monitoring them constantly, but I sense there's something more than that. I just know someone is paying particular attention to me right now.
I glance up at the security camera in the upper right corner of the room. It's one of those discreet black domes you wouldn't realize was there unless you were looking for it.There's no rational reason for my suspicion, but I'm convinced Damiano is watching right now.
I hold his gaze just long enough to let him know I'm aware of him. Pressing two fingers to my lips, I blow him a kiss.
Then I turn and walk away.