Page 25 of The Mad Don
She shoves me back and slaps me hard across the face.
“Crazy,” she mutters and presses herself back into the corner of the seat.
I grin.
I run my tongue over my own lip where her teeth caught me back, and I look at her mouth. The spot I bit is going red. She’ll feel it for hours.
I face forward and tell the driver to go.
* * *
I walk in with Yana in my arms, and eyes fall on us. Some of them are looking at me, but most are looking at her, forgetting their drinks. I look down at her.
Her face is blank, but her cheeks are red. I do not know if it is the bite I gave her in the car, the attention, or both. I lower my mouth close to her ear.
“You’re my date tonight. Act like it.”
She doesn’t look at me or answer, but I feel her spine straighten under my hand.
We move into the room.
The first to approach is Carlo De Luca, who runs the southern half of the family’s import operations. He is a man who knows when to flatter and when to stay silent, and he has decided tonight is the night to flatter. He takes my hand and clasps it warmly.
“Don Mondi. And who is this dashing woman?”
I look at Yana.
Her face transforms. It happens so fast I almost miss it. The blank look is gone. In its place is a soft smile, warm eyes, and the slight tilt of the head that women learn before they learn anything else. She extends her hand to Carlo with grace.
“This is Yana,” I say, and I let the next word sit before I say it. “My girlfriend.”
“Russian?” Carlo says, taking her hand.
“Russian,” I confirm.
“A pleasure,signore,” she says, and her voice is soft and warm in a way I have never heard from her, and her smile does not crack even at the corners. She is good. She is very good. Whatever Kirill trained her in, he trained her in this, too.
A waiter passes, and she takes a glass of wine and lifts it lightly to clink against Carlo’s. I watch her with my hand at the small of her back. She is acting so naturally that for a moment I forget she is only here because she has to be, not because she wants to.
I make small talk with Carlo. I ask about his wife. I ask about his eldest son, who is studying in Milan. I keep one eye on Yana the whole time. She nods at the right moments. She laughs softly when Carlo makes a joke about the wine. When his attention turns briefly back to me, she takes a sip of her drink, and her eyes go flat for half a second before she remembers the audience.
I almost smile. Carlo moves on. Another man approaches. Then another. Each time, she performs the same trick, and each time, I watch her do it.
Then I see Ricci.
He is at the far end of the room, and he has just spotted me. Valentina is at his side. The moment her eyes find me, her face crumples, and she breaks away from her father and runs across the room toward me with her heels clicking against the marble.
“Giovanni!”
The whole room turns slightly. She does not care.
“Giovanni, why aren’t you picking up my calls?” Her eyes are swimming. She grabs my free hand with both of hers. “I have been calling for weeks. Why won’t you talk to me?”
I gently remove her hands from mine.
Ricci has reached us. His voice cuts in. “Valentina. Come back to my side!”
She doesn’t move. He says it again, and this time she steps back, but her eyes stay on my face.
