Chapter 51

Frankie doesn’t say anything when I get down to the car, just smirks at me and raises an eyebrow. I don’t bother to fill him in, giving a coy shrug as I move to the front seat and slide in.

We’re on the road quickly and Frankie fills the ride with chatter, telling me the basics about Lupa, which apparently is a very swankie little bar. I’ll be working the lunch shift today, obviously, but Frankie says I can expect it to be packed.

“It takes a while to get a reservation, apparently,” he says as we turn into the staff parking lot behind the tall building of which Lupa is a part.

“Well, if it’s so popular,” I murmur, frowning at him as we pull into a space. “Why haven’t I heard of it?”

“Because,” Frankie says, giving me a little grin, “it doesn’t precisely advertise itself. It’s not like you can just go to the website and book online. You have to know people to get in here, and half the tables are held daily for celebrities and the mafia big-shots that this place serves.”

“Oh,” I say, going a little still as I move to unbuckle my seatbelt. “So it is…not easy to get a job here, is it?”

“Impossible,” Frankie says, laughing and stepping out of the car. “Unless, of course, you’re hooked up. Which you, little Bambi,” he says, grinning at me over the roof of the car as I likewise climb out of it, “are, apparently.”

“Wish someone had told me,” I say with a sigh, wrapping my arms around myself anxiously and coming around the car to walk to the service entrance at Frankie’s side. “What are you going to do here all day?”

“Oh, drink,” he says, looking at me like he’s completely serious, and I burst out laughing. He grins at me as he holds the door open, nodding to the bouncer just inside the door, who glances at him and then nods back. “Nah, I’ll just hang out. You know me, Bambs, I’m easy.”

“I’ll make sure all the ladies know that,” I murmur, looking around at the dark service area which is clean, but not precisely cute.

“Please do,” he says, escorting me through a single swinging door into what is clearly the small kitchen and then through another to…

I gasp, a little, when I see the bar that we walk into.

It looks like something out of a 1920’s gangster dream, with a long mahogany bar that stretches the length of the room with a mirrored wall behind it. Tiffany chandeliers hang from the ceiling, filling the room with a warm, moody glow. Brass details are everywhere, from the long straight footrail to the curling sconces shaped like leaves, the green velvet bar stools with lion paws for their feet. And all along the left-hand wall are gorgeous little booths with drawn-back curtains – the perfect place for a clandestine meeting and nefarious deeds.

Instantly, I love it here. The whole place is sexy and mysterious and cool.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, clutching my hands together over my heart. “I’m…I’m so glad that Nico made me change my clothes.”

Frankie laughs and then puts a hand between my shoulder blades, urging me forward towards the bar. “You look great, Bambi. You’re going to fit in well here.”

As we move forward towards the bar tender, though, I’m not sure he thinks the same. He sneers at me, his eyes flicking immediately over my clutched hands, my slightly hunched shoulders, my diminutive form.

“So,” he says, addressing Frankie while he judges me, “this is Romano’s new hire, huh?”

“Yup!” Frankie says, giving me a little shove forward and beaming at me like I’m a kid he’s sending off to kindergarten. “Andre, this is Bambi. She’s the best.”

I give him my best smile, but Andre’s scowl just deepens. “Do you have any restaurant experience, Bambi?” he says, saying my name like he knows it’s fake.

“Um, no,” I respond, saying the words like the apology they are.

He groans, rolling his eyes and flipping up part of the counter that I didn’t realize swung upwards. “Well, get back here,” he says with a sigh, pulling on the front of the bar to create a door. Surprised and a little thrilled at the craftsmanship, I step through as Frankie waves and heads to the end of the bar, taking a seat on a stool there and pulling out his phone.

“Let’s get something straight,” Andre says, turning to face me the moment that he puts the bar back in place. My eyes go wide at way he’s already snapping at me – god, is he my boss? Is this what my days are going to be like now?

I nod, eager, letting Andre know that I’m listening.

“I don’t know how you got this job, and I don’t want to know how you got this job,” he says, leaning against the bar with his other hand on his hip. “All I care about is that you do what I tell you to do, you don’t complain, and you ask when you don’t know something instead of trying to do things your own way. All right?”

“Yes,” I say instantly, nodding. It is clear to me already that this is Andre’s ship, and he is sick of an ever-changing crew.

“All right,” he says, nodding once and then turning away from me, gesturing for me to follow. “Then let’s get started.”

Speaking quickly and moving efficiently, Andre lets me know that my job here is pretty simple. Since I’m not a bartender, my job is going to be to help him and the other bartenders make drinks as fast as possible. If I survive my first day, they’ll start to train me to serve and make the drinks. If I survive my first couple of months –

And my mouth falls when he says months –

Then they’ll make me a bartender myself. I nod, understanding and not interrupting, as Andre begins to detail the location of all of the objects behind the bar and tells me everything I need to know to support the bar staff here. Before long, as Andre pulls out the menu and begins to explain all of the drinks on it, more staff begin to show up and go through their own duties, everyone polished and efficient.

As Andre hands the menu to me, telling me to sit down on a stool close to Frankie and memorize it, someone comes through the front door and I do a double-take when I realize that it’s Don Romano. I go still on the little stool behind the bar when I see him.

Romano arrives with two men in two – body guards, I assume, like Frankie and Nico. But unlike Christian’s men, these two are all business, and they look cruel and intimidating. I feel my skin shiver as I watch the way they look around the room, like everything is a threat and they’re ready to spring into action at any second.

I take a glance at Frankie, who is still sitting in the corner looking at his phone. But as I watch, I realize that his fingers are still, and that he’s looking up through his lashes at the room, likewise watching. A small smile finds my mouth because…

Well, that’s clever, isn’t it? Frankie – he’s smart. He wants everyone to think he’s a little bit silly, a little bit lazy – it’s probably why he never made anyone call him Frank, instead of what is clearly his childhood nickname.

But my bodyguard – he’s just as cool and capable, isn’t he?

Suddenly, as I watch, I’m very pleased and proud to have him on my side.

But I move my eyes away from Frankie and back to the menu, knowing that I shouldn’t make others aware of our connection, and also that I’ve got a menu to memorize. I take a deep breath, doing my best to make sense of Andre’s scrawled his notes all over it. It’s clearly a copy he’s used for training before.

But I don’t have long to do much work there before I hear my name called, and I raise my head to see Don Romano standing at the bar just in front of me, a little smile on his lips.

“Well, Bambi,” he says, emphasizing my fake name on purpose, apparently amused. “And how are you settling in here?”

I sit up straight, glancing down at the menu, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to say.