Page 67 of Better Watch Out
A waiter set down a glass of wine in front of her. “From the gentleman at the bar.” Frannie followed the waiter’s line of sight to a man sitting on a barstool. He lifted his glass in a toast. “He says you have a beautiful smile.”
“I appreciate the compliment.” Frannie handed the glass of wine back to the waiter. “But please tell him no thank you.”
The waiter took her glass with a shrug and returned to the bar.
“That’s a classy move.” Two tables over and on the same bench, a man in a pinstripe suit, his coat hanging on the back of the chair, raised his own glass to her. His thick mustache twitched. “Some men need to learn women are worth more than a cheap glass of wine.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a pickup line but given she guessed the man’s age to be somewhere in the sixties, she accepted it as the former. “Thank you.” She sipped on her cappuccino. “I didn’t want him to get any ideas if I accepted.”
“You have a boyfriend.”
The man’s eyes dipped to her left hand, making the correct assumption she was not married but Andrew also wasn’t her boyfriend. She still didn’t think the guy was hitting on her but to be sure, she answered, “I havesomeone.”
The man flexed his own hand and she noticed the gold ring on his pinky. No wedding ring though … and that’s when she realized how her focus might be perceived. Her eyes shot up to meet his and his hiked left brow. “I can take care of that.”
“What?”
“Yoursomeone. I can take care of that.”
Her eyes widened. Was this guy seriously offering to take Andrew out? Suddenly the tangy aroma of spaghetti sauce, the soft tenor of Dean Martin crooning from the speakers, and the mystery man with a plate of cannoli in front of him gave Frannie majorGodfathervibes.
“What? No. Wait … are you serious?”
“I can be.”
Frannie stared and then the guy laughed. “I’m kidding.”
Was he though? She tried to laugh with him but it came out sounding nervous. She turned back to her computer, pretending she wasn’t watching his every move.
The way he wiped his mouth and looked at his gold watch—totally something a godfather would do. He opened his wallet and dropped a few bills on the table. She straightened, trying to get a look. Were those twenties? Definitely suspect. He picked up his jacket and briefcase before catching her eye. He tipped his chin and smiled. “Safe travels.”
“Thank you.” Frannie’s gaze traveled to the nearby tables. A part of her was hoping someone had overheard the conversation because she still couldn’t believe it happened. Watching him walk away to catch his flight, she felt a little silly. Did mobsters even exist outside of movies anymore? She wasn’t sure but when the waiter came to collect the cash left on the table, Frannie couldn’t help mumbling to herself, “And keep the change, ya filthy animal.”
Okay, this had to be worthy of a quick text to Andrew. She had to warn him, right?
Frannie: Hey. I’m eating at this Italian restaurant in the airport. I think I met a godfather. Might’ve accidentally put a hit on you. Watch out for the guys in suits carrying cannoli.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
How many people can claim they’ve had two hits put out on them in one lifetime? Andrew smiled and tapped out a quick text back to Frannie before he walked into the lobby of the Waldorf Hotel.
Andrew: “I don’t like violence, Tom. Blood is a big expense.”
Frannie: “It’s not personal, Sonny. It’s strictly business.”
His grin deepened. Frannie’s knowledge ofGodfatherquotes was impressive and was helping ease the tension that gripped his shoulders when her first text came in. Thankfully, she followed up with a voice text explaining her strange run-in at the airport restaurant.
“I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Don Corleone’s voice echoed in Andrew’s head as he stepped onto the elevator. He stared at his phone, his insides humming with anticipation from the game they were playing. Was it flirting disguised beneath the surprising pretext ofGodfatherobsession? It had to be because he was staring at his phone like a lovesick teenager who had just passed a note to the girl he liked and was waiting for her to answer—did she like him? Yes or no?
The elevator doors spread open on the twelfth floor. He checked his phone again but there was no response. Disappointment followed him to the Malones’ suite. After Andrew’s quick knock, Oskar opened the door.
Andrew’s cell phone vibrated. It took every ounce of self-control to pocket his phone without looking at the message. “Hey.”
He stepped into the suite and found Joey near the window, arms folded over his chest and legs in a wide stance. Doug was sitting in an armchair next to the couch where Mr. Malone and Valentina sat.
Ms. Malone was considerably underdressed compared to the last time he’d seen her. Today, she wore a fitted pair of cream slacks and matching sweater that looked like cashmere. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and her makeup was understated and natural, making her look a lot more like Frannie than he remembered. That thought concerned him.
