shoulder. “Stay away from me,” I spat. “I won’t be so polite next time.” I stormed out of the café, angry and a bit rattled.
I needed to find Luca. I needed to demand a resolution, and I was so mad, I didn’t care what it was. Kill me, or don’t kill me, I just needed to know what the hell was going on. Only I didn’t know where to look.
I stormed over to my car and, once I was safely inside, I racked my brain trying to figure out how to find the man. How did a person go about finding Luca Benetti?
My hands shook when I realized I didn’t have to find him. I could have him come to me. I knew Ciro Mancini owned some clubs in town, but I didn’t know really which ones. I knew he owned a place called The Ruby because a lot of women from work went there to unwind sometimes after a hard day. They said it catered to women who just wanted to relax without a sloppy drunk hitting on them.
I drove there first.
Anger, fear, sleeplessness, and a whole other host of mental issues had me storming into The Ruby like I was immortal, and walking up to the bartender and demanding, “I need to see Luca Benetti.”
He stopped mid-wipe and his head jerked back. It was a little past lunch, so there weren’t many patrons, but the other two people at the bar stopped in mid-motion as well. It was like the record scratch at a party.
Just great.
The bartender snapped out of his stupor. “Is that so?”
“If you can’t produce Luca, then I’d like to see Ciro Mancini,” I replied.
His brows shot up and his voice was laced with astonishment. “Produce him?”
I ignored his incredulousness. “I know Ciro Mancini owns this bar. If you can’t get a hold of Luca, I know you can get a hold of Ciro. And, if not Ciro, you have a manager that I’m sure can get a hold of him.”
The bartender leaned forward. “Lady, are you crazy?”
I did not appreciate his question one bit.
“Why, yes. Yes, I am,” I snapped. “And it’s all Luca Benetti’s fault, so if you don’t want a television reported storming in here to report on the crazy lady losing her shit inside The Ruby, call someone,” I managed, somewhat hysterically.
He must have seen the crazy in my eyes, because the man pulled a phone and dialed. I stood there as he told someone on the other end that some crazy bitch was demanding to see Luca or Ciro.
The call was short and when he hung up, I asked, “Well?”
He put his finger up to shush me, and within a few seconds, the bar phone was ringing. He answered and the call sounded one-sided. “Brown hair with crazy blue eyes. She’s got heels on, but I’d say around five-five…Yeah…No, she is…She’s a fucking knockout if she wasn’t batshit crazy.” I narrowed my eyes at the prick. “Okay…Yeah. Are you sure? She’s a nutjob.” And, then, it got interesting. His face paled a bit. “No…no. I understand. Yes. My apologies. Of course.” He hung up, and he no longer was looking at me like I was crazy. He actually looked a touch nervous.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Ciro’s at The Diamond,” he said. “He’ll be waiting for you.”
I didn’t even bother with a ‘thank you’. I stormed out of the bar and headed to The Diamond. The second I stepped into the club, I noticed four men lined up, two on either side of some makeshift path. At the end of the path was a man whose face looked too majestic to be real.
The man had yellow freakin’ eyes.
Who has yellow eyes?
My feet faltered with my courage quickly fading. What in the hell was I thinking? But the answer was obvious; Luca Benetti really has turned me into a raving lunatic.
When it was obvious that cowardice was quickly replacing bravery, the man with the yellow eyes came to me. He dipped his head and offered me a slight grin. “Remy Christian?” I nodded like a simpleton. His grin turned into a smile, and he said, “I’m Ciro Mancini.”
And. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Chapter 9
Luca~
Not much surprised me these days but getting a call from Ciro telling me that Remy Christian has stomped into The Ruby demanding to see me or him indeed surprised the hell out of me.
I had just wrapped up a meeting with Sal about the informant who had leaked that Nelson Sorgen had