Page 11 of The Mafia's Quintuplets

I take a deep breath, making a decision that feels simultaneously reckless and inevitable. “Lead the way.”

As I follow Maxim toward a discreet elevator guarded by security personnel, who immediately step aside at his approach, I feel as though I’m stepping off a familiar path into uncharted territory. I have no idea what happens next, and the uncertainty is terrifying, and exhilarating.

Tonight, I’m not predictable, responsible Willemina Lamb, NICU nurse with a carefully controlled life. Tonight, I’m someone who follows a mysterious stranger into the unknown, guided by impulses I’d forgotten I possessed.

Tomorrow I’ll return to routine and responsibility, but tonight belongs to this moment, this man, and whatever waits behind the elevator doors now closing behind us. Once we're alone in the cab I turned to him and asked, “if you've never been here before, why do you have a suite upstairs?”

His mouth curls slightly upward at the left side. “It's one of the owner’s perks, and as of this afternoon, I own Eclipse.”

I want to ask more, but his closed expression suggests the topic is off-limits. Part of me is curious, but I'm not so curious that I risk ruining the moment and this unexpected opportunity to forget who I really am for a single night and enjoy what time we have together. I accept his words with a nod and follow him out of the elevator when it stops on the appropriate floor.

5

Mak

The elevator doors slide open to reveal a suite that takes my breath away, and that’s saying something when I’m already accustomed to the best. The space is elegantly appointed with sleek modern furniture in neutral tones, accented with subtle artwork that speaks of wealth without ostentation. A massive sectional sofa faces both the view and a fireplace clad in what appears to be rare Italian marble. To one side, a doorway reveals the edge of what must be a bedroom.

We’ll see in due time…

Willemina steps into the room with cautious curiosity, her eyes widening as she takes in the surroundings. "So, this is what it's like to own a nightclub. Quite the perk."

"One of the few worth having." I follow her into the space, observing her carefully while gauging her reaction to this glimpse of wealth and privilege. Unlike most who enter my orbit, she seems more interested than impressed, studying the art on the walls with genuine appreciation rather than calculating its value.

She approaches a large abstract canvas, her head tilting slightly as she considers it. "This is stunning. Rothko?"

Her recognition surprises me. I didn't even know the painting was here, so I'm slightly startled that she recognizes the artist. "Yes. You know his work?"

"I minored in art history before committing to nursing." Her fingers hover near the canvas without touching it. "I've only seen his pieces in museums, never in someone's private collection. Is it real?"

"Should be,” I reply. “My father used to like Rothko." The admission surprises me, because they usually don't bring up my father if I can help it. I clear my throat and add, “I have one of his paintings in my apartment.”

“It looks like you have one here too.” She looks at me over her shoulder, sensing the weight behind the statement but respectfully not prying. "Your father had excellent taste."

"In some things." I allow the ambiguity to stand between us. "Can I get you something to drink? I'm sure there's a full bar." I don't need to have seen this place before to intuit that it has all the expected amenities.

"Just water for now, thank you." She wanders toward the windows, drawn to the view. "I think I've hit my limit on alcohol for one night."

I move to the bar nestled in the corner, selecting a crystal tumbler for her water. "Sparkling or still?"

"Sparkling, please." She presses her palm against the glass, leaning closer to look down at the street below. "This view is incredible."

I pour San Pellegrino for her, and a neat vodka for myself, before joining her at the windows. The city spreads below us. From this height, the chaos appears orderly, and the danger distant. We stand side by side, not quite touching, but the electricity between us almost physical.

"It's beautiful." Her voice softens. "I've lived in New York my whole life, but I never get tired of this view."

"What part of the city?" I hand her the water.

"Queens originally. Astoria." She takes a sip, her gaze never leaving the vista. "Now I share an apartment in Washington Heights with my roommate, the one who dragged me here tonight. The rent is brutal, but the location works well for both our jobs." She gestures to the expanse before us. "Nothing like this, of course."

"And does your roommate make a habit of abandoning you in nightclubs?" There's a faint edge to my tone, but she doesn't seem to notice my disapproval.

She laughs. "Gisele? Absolutely. She's the social butterfly to my homebody hermit. I love her, but our ideas of fun rarely align."

"So what is your idea of fun, Willemina?" I study her. "If not nightclubs and dancing with strangers, I mean."

She considers the question while taking another sip of her water. "Quiet things, mostly. Reading on my fire escape with a cup of tea. Discovering hole-in-the-wall restaurants with incredible food. Walking through the Met when it first opens, before the crowds arrive." She glances at me, a hint of self-consciousness crossing her expression. "Boring, I know."

I shrug a shoulder. "Not boring. Authentic. Genuine pleasures rather than manufactured experiences."

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