3. January 2024
3
January 2024
V aughn Gallo owned twelve bars across Melbourne, but he spent the most time at Titian. This one was personal, a rare glimpse inside his head. His love of art covered the walls and ceilings. His tastes could be seen in everything from the choice of lighting to the glassware.
Titian was located on Chapel Street in South Yarra. The drinks were priced high to attract a certain type of clientele. He had zero tolerance for impostors, and the people at the door were well trained on how to spot them.
He was in his office behind the bar, seated comfortably behind one-way glass, when he saw a large group enter. Grabbing his suit jacket as he rose, he shrugged it on and made his way out to investigate. Stopping next to one of the bartenders, he adjusted his watch and looked in the direction of the group. ‘Who do we have?’
Before the bartender could answer, someone called his name.
‘Mr Gallo.’
He spotted Nigel Thompson, the executive director of Victoria Ballet. They had met a handful of times at various galas and fundraisers. His genuine passion for the arts had always left a lasting impression on Vaughn.
He took the hand extended towards him. ‘Good to see you.’ He nodded in the direction of the growing group behind him. ‘What are we celebrating?’
Nigel followed his gaze. ‘We had our preseason performance for our patrons tonight.’ He looked back at Vaughn. ‘I did send you an invitation.’
He struggled to recall the excuse he gave for not attending. Between the family and his private businesses, he didn’t have much time and energy left over for things he actually enjoyed. ‘Sorry I couldn’t make it.’
Nigel waved his words away. ‘Another time.’
Vaughn only nodded, keen to avoid another more concrete invitation. ‘Listen, you’re welcome to use the VIP area for the night.’
Surprise flashed on Nigel’s face. ‘Really?’
‘Sure. I can always kick you out if someone important comes along.’
Nigel gave him a lopsided grin. ‘I know you’re only half joking, but I’ll take you up on the offer anyway.’
‘Need a tab?’
Nigel nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Vaughn turned to the bar manager, who’d been listening in. ‘Send Alice to the lounge, would you?’
The manager nodded.
‘Much appreciated,’ Nigel said. ‘Make sure you come have a drink with us later. I’ll introduce you to our creative director.’
Vaughn planned on being busy for the rest of the evening. ‘Enjoy.’
He returned to his office to listen to his voicemails. There were a number of family and business calls, followed by one from his mother. She wanted to know if he was coming to dinner on Friday. There might not have been a drop of Italian blood in her veins, but she had taken to Italian culture like a duck to water. Family was everything to her. Lucky for her, because she was part of one of the largest Italian families in the state: the Merit Group.
One big, chaotic, violent, and suffocating family.
After an hour of making calls and reassuring his mother that he would be at dinner on Friday, Vaughn returned to the bar for a scotch. He took it straight off the top shelf and poured it neat, savouring the burn as he scanned the room over the rim of his glass. His gaze snagged on a figure standing alone in front of the far wall, studying the mural. She wore a knee-length cocktail dress with an open back, her dark hair twisted into a low bun. It was clear from her figure that she was a dancer, presumably one of Nigel’s.
Vaughn watched as she stepped slowly along the wall, a pink clutch in her hand, studying every inch of the artwork. After a few minutes waiting for her to turn around so he could see her face, he grew impatient and ventured out from behind the bar, heading to the other end of the wall. From there, he could see her profile, a softly pointed chin and high cheekbones that shimmered. Her lips curved slightly in concentration as she studied the art. She was beautiful from that angle.
The woman glanced suddenly in his direction, her gaze falling to the tattoo on his neck before she quickly looked away. She pretended to study the art again, but he saw her swallow, clearly aware of his eyes on her. Eventually, she looked back in his direction. She was captivating from all angles.
Intrigued, Vaughn ventured closer, stopping when he saw her tense up slightly. He tried to respect people’s boundaries when it was practical to do so. There were many circumstances in his life where it wasn’t.
He didn’t say anything at first, studying the mural alongside her, appreciating the vivid colour and intricate details with fresh eyes.
She was first to break the silence. ‘I was trying to think where I had seen this artwork before.’ She shook her head. ‘Then I remembered the bar was called Titian.’
She had one of those gentle voices that are pleasant to listen to. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. Most people have no idea who Titian is.’
A small smile came and went on her face.
He glanced sideways at her. ‘ Assumption of the Virgin , 1516 to 1518.’
A nod. ‘The detail and colour are… breathtaking. I don’t remember having the same appreciation last time I saw his work.’
‘Too small, perhaps.’
She nodded again. ‘Wall-sized is definitely better.’
He took a sip of his scotch. ‘You from Vic Ballet?’
She turned to face him, and he took a moment to appreciate the front view. The way the fabric of her dress hugged her curves had him taking another drink.
‘I’m in the chorus.’ Her eyes moved over him. ‘Would I be right in guessing that you’re one of our generous supporters?’
It was clear she had no idea who he was. Perhaps she didn’t watch the news. ‘This is my bar.’
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Oh. Congratulations.’
‘On owning a bar?’
‘On owning this bar.’
He was aware of how intently he was watching her, but he was having difficulty looking away. She had a mesmeric presence about her, which was a new experience for him—and a worry. ‘How long have you been in the corps de ballet?’
Her eyebrows rose slightly. ‘He speaks the lingo. You know about ballet as well as art?’
‘It’s all art, isn’t it?’
She nodded slowly. ‘I suppose it is.’
He took another drink. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Willow.’ When he didn’t respond straight away, she asked, ‘Are you going to tell me your name, or should I guess?’
He needed a cigarette but settled for finishing his drink instead. ‘What would your guess be?’
She exhaled noisily, and it was possibly the cutest thing he had ever heard.
‘Well, looking at you, I’d go with an Italian name.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Marco?’
He shook his head.
‘Leonardo?’
‘No.’
‘Salvatore?’
‘My father’s name.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘Your father’s Italian too? What are the chances?’
His eyes creased at the corners. ‘Vaughn.’
She tutted. ‘That’s not even Italian.’
‘My mother’s father was Welsh. My brother got the traditional Italian name.’
‘Which is?’
‘Antonio.’
She tilted her head. ‘So you’re a mix of Italian and Welsh.’
‘Father’s Italian. Mother’s English and Welsh.’
Her eyes moved over him. ‘It seems you’ve taken after your father.’
In more ways than he cared to admit.
‘You know, I’m part Italian too,’ she said.
He studied her features and noted her fair complexion. ‘Which part, exactly?’
‘My love of gnocchi part. My grandmother was half Italian, so I guess that makes me… one-eighth?’
She exuded purity. She might have been one-eighth Italian, but she was simultaneously 100 percent never to be touched by a man like him.
‘I’m watered down with a lot of Danish,’ she added, teeth flashing.
He drank in every detail, knowing it was time for him to walk away—but he didn’t want to.
The solution to this novel dilemma came in the form of a tiny dancer who appeared next to him.
‘There you are,’ she said to Willow before turning to brazenly assess Vaughn.
He could tell the moment she recognised him, because her face fell a little. It seemed her friend did watch the news.
‘Oh,’ she said, blinking. ‘You’re Vaughn Gallo.’
Willow gave her a surprised look. ‘You know him?’
‘No.’ The word came out quickly before she made a disapproving face. ‘I know of him.’
‘This is Lili Chén,’ Willow said. ‘She’s also in the ensemble.’
He nodded once. ‘Miss Chén.’
‘We have to go.’ Lili placed herself between them like a shield and took Willow by the arm. ‘There’s someone Harrison wants you to meet.’ She looked back at Vaughn and forced a smile. ‘You have a good night, Mr Gallo.’
He watched as Willow was ushered back to the safety of the lounge. At least she had good friends.
Vaughn’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out and saw Finn’s name on the screen. He answered. ‘Yeah?’
‘Car’s out front when you’re ready,’ his driver informed him.
He glanced in Willow’s direction. ‘I’m on my way.’
The VIP area was dimly lit, with sleek leather lounges and that air of exclusivity. Classical music played in the background as Willow sat sipping champagne and listening to Lili fill her in on Vaughn Gallo and his ties to Melbourne mafia.
‘Have you really not heard of the Merit Group?’ Lili asked in disbelief.
‘I’m from Sydney, remember?’
Lili pointed over the rope. ‘His entire family are criminals. They own DeLuca Construction.’ She paused there as though waiting for the penny to drop.
‘Okay,’ Willow said.
Lili rolled her eyes. ‘You would definitely have heard of them. They were in and out of court last year for dodgy workmanship that resulted in people dying .’
Willow looked out over the rope, searching for him, but he was nowhere to be found. ‘Relax. I was just complimenting him on his interior design choices, not asking how to join his gang.’
‘Gang?’ Lili laughed harshly. ‘ Mafia . And you were flirting. I could see it from all the way over here.’
‘At least he’s well connected,’ Willow joked.
Lili shook her head. ‘That’s not funny.’
‘He barely seems old enough to have such a long criminal record.’
‘Don’t be fooled by those pretty eyes of his. He’s twenty-eight.’
‘That’s young.’
Lili tilted her head. ‘No, because in mafia years, he’s probably around forty. Those men are aged by their experiences.’
Laughter fell from Willow. ‘You’re just making stuff up now.’
‘Yes, I am, to ensure you stay away from him.’
In truth, Willow was having difficulty reconciling the notion of the mafia with the man she’d just met. She could see why people would be intimidated by his physical appearance, especially with all those tattoos, but his love of the arts and subtle sense of humour had put her at ease. Admittedly, all of her mafia knowledge came from Hollywood depictions. ‘This DeLuca court case. Were they found guilty?’
‘Of course not. They’re notorious for getting away with all kinds of crimes.’ Lili drank from her champagne glass before continuing. ‘Vaughn Gallo was a key witness, you know. He was there the night it happened. Rumour has it that the case caused a bit of a rift in the family.’
Before Willow could ask any further questions, Nigel and Harrison appeared in front of them.
‘Ladies,’ Nigel said. ‘Forgive the interruption.’ He looked at Willow. ‘I noticed you were speaking with Vaughn Gallo. It was a far longer conversation than most people manage to get from him.’
Willow’s gaze flicked to Lili. ‘It seems a few people noticed that conversation.’
‘What were you discussing with him?’ Harrison asked, sounding a little agitated.
The weight of everyone’s stares had Willow shrinking into the lounge. She cleared her throat. ‘Art. Family?—’
‘He spoke of his family?’ Lili asked, sounding shocked. ‘Is that even allowed?’
Nigel suppressed a smile. ‘Mr Gallo is a family man at his core and a generous supporter of the arts.’
‘Except our art, apparently,’ Harrison said, taking a sip of champagne. ‘Nigel invited him to the preview and never heard back.’
Lili leaned towards Willow and whispered, ‘He probably had torture plans.’
‘He’s a busy man,’ Nigel said, making excuses on his behalf. ‘And we are one of the smaller dance companies in the city.’ He looked around the lounge and rocked on his heels. ‘I think I’ll try again. I could invite him to the dress rehearsal on Monday.’ His gaze returned to Willow. ‘Perhaps I’ll mention that you really enjoyed meeting him.’
A look of suspicion settled on Lili’s face. ‘Use her as bait?’
Nigel immediately shook his head. ‘Nothing untoward, I assure you. The point of this evening is networking, and I was deliberate in choosing this venue.’
‘If he does come, I’ll be there the whole time,’ Harrison said, no doubt meaning to reassure her but coming across like an overprotective older brother instead.
Willow wasn’t sure how she felt about the prospect of a second meeting after Lili had painted him as a dangerous monster, but the possibility of the company getting much-needed funds filled her with hope. ‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.’
‘I think you’ve already done enough,’ Harrison said.
She could have sworn that was accusation in his tone instead of gratitude.
A gentleman approached Nigel and Harrison, and they were pulled away from the conversation for more introductions, leaving Willow and Lili alone again.
‘I’m actually surprised that Nigel is inviting this sort of potential trouble into the company,’ Lili said. ‘Our financial situation must be worse than we thought.’
Nigel had been the executive director of Victoria Ballet for more than twenty years—and had the grey hair to prove it. Willow watched him in conversation for a moment. It was clear how much the company meant to him. ‘Nigel’s a good man. He’s not going to do anything illegal.’
A sigh slipped from Lili as she lifted her empty glass. ‘Now I kind of feel bad for drinking the expensive stuff.’
‘Don’t.’ Willow stood up and pulled Lili to her feet. ‘It’s fuel for the job at hand. Let’s go charm some people—and see if we can find you a rich husband in the process.’
‘I do love a sensible plan.’
As they stepped away from the lounge, Willow’s gaze drifted to the mural on the other side of the bar, where people stood laughing and drinking and entirely ignoring the beauty of Mary rising towards a group of angels above them.
Her mind drifted also—to the man with the tattoos and superb taste in art. The mafioso with the dangerous life and contrasting honest gaze.
Vaughn Gallo.