Page 8 of Paolo DeLuca
Chapter seven
PaolowatchedLyricall damn night while he was in the VIP section of his club. The dais sat at the far wall where he could see the entire place and was roped off from the writhing bodies. Normally, he indulged in the many women who tried to make their way up the steps and through the ropes, but not tonight. Tonight, there was only one woman on his mind, and she was his employee.
Fuck!
“What’s up?” Dante sidled up on one side of him and Gino on the other.
“What do you mean?” Paolo asked, gulping down the last of the Louise XIII Magnum Remy Martin he had imported. It cost him a pretty penny, but the shit was worth it. He relished the slow burn as it slid down his throat.
“You’ve had your eyes on the new girl. What’s her name again?” he snapped his finger, remembering, “That’s right, Lyric, all night.” Dante smirked.
Gino nodded. “He’s right, cugino. You’ve not once grabbed one of these lovelies waiting for your attention.”
Gino motioned to the many women around the club. Paolo gulped down his drink, then held his empty glass to the bartender on duty in the VIP section. He’d have to make sure it was Lyric there from now on when she worked.
The bartenders in the VIP section got paid more. She needed it. Paolo didn’t know why, but he had this uncontrollable urge to make sure she didn’t struggle with her bills. Or anything else she needed in life.
“Just wondering how a woman like her ended up working for us,” he said.
Gino and Dante caught one another’s eyes. They weren’t buying what he tried to sell them, but he didn’t give a fuck what they thought. He was Capo; he’d do what he wanted.
“Right,” Gino snickered.
“Fuck you, Gino.” The new bartender handed him his drink. “What’s the word on Cali?” he asked, taking a sip.
“No sign of her in California,” Dante said. “My guess is, if her work is showing up in Miami, she’s here.”
“Agreed,” Gino said. “There’s no way she’s not hiding out somewhere here. Who would be stupid enough to harbor her is another damn question.”
Paolo’s eyes narrowed; rage coursed through him. “I want her found and the motherfuckers who hired her… now. We’ll meet tonight around closing to fill everyone else in. Meeting tomorrow at my penthouse. We’ll come up with a plan then.”
The two people closest to him nodded in agreement. “What about the staff?” Gino inquired. “They’re here for most of the day getting set up.”
“Give a key to whoever is opening.” His voice tampered into almost a growl. “They know not to cross me.”
He was done with this shit. It was time to remind the people who the hell they were. Gino and Dante made their way out of the VIP section. They knew the history between him and Cali. She wouldn’t survive this encounter. Paolo would make sure of that.
Once they left, his gaze found its way back to Lyric. Paolo watched and waited while the anger slowly simmered beneath. She smiled, talking to one of the men she served.
Why the fuck was he so angry? She wasn’t his. Fuck, he didn’t even know her. The one thing he did know was he didn’t like the way the guy touched Lyric. And apparently, she didn’t either.
“Good girl,” he crooned under his breath as he watched Lyric pull her arm from the stranger while she made his drink. The man ran his hand up her arm again. However, the smile fell from her face when the man wouldn’t let her go.
Paolo moved off the dais toward the guy who still gripped Lyric’s arm. He pulled his knife as he reached the man and placed it against the fucker’s neck.
“I will give you a new smile if you don’t fucking let go of her now,” Paolo threatened.
The people around them stumbled away from the scene while a few women watching screamed above the music. But Paolo didn’t care. This fucker touched what was his, and he would pay. When the man didn’t let go of Lyric, he pushed the knife a little deeper, drawing blood.
“Mr. DeLuca, please.” Lyric’s small voice broke through the haze of fury. His eyes quickly shuffled to hers. He didn’t like the fear he saw in them, but this piece of shit still held onto her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his soldiers moving through the crowd toward them. Franco Moretti, his number three, was leading the charge. He’d been with Paolo since he took over for his father. The potential for the situation to get ugly was there; hell, this bitch was already turning into a shit show. But Paolo didn’t care; people needed to be reminded this was his city; this guy would pay for his mistake.
“If you don’t let her go, I promise you, you’ll bleed out on my floor tonight.”
Paolo pressed the knife deeper, dragging it slightly across his neck to show he wasn’t joking. The screams rose even higher with the prospect of someone dying. Finally, the man let go of Lyric, raising his hands in submission.
“Get this fucker out of my club,” he growled, releasing the man’s head, taking the knife from his neck. His men dragged the man down the hall and out the back. He wouldn’t be seen around here again.
Paolo turned to Lyric. “Are you okay, il mio cuore batte?”My heart beat.
