Page 49 of Bellini Bound
“Gabi,” I corrected through gritted teeth.
“Oh, that’s right. Gabi. Do you know her?”
“Wish I didn’t.” The words were muttered under my breath.
“What was that?” Allison asked.
“Nothing.” I shook my head. “Where did you say you were going again?”
“Some club downtown. Euphoria.”
Thank God for small favors. We owned that club, so not only would I have no trouble getting in when I inevitably followed her, but I knew she’d be safe there until my arrival.
“And what do you plan to do there?” I pressed.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. What people generally do at clubs, I guess. Drink, dance, and be merry.”
“What time will you be home?”
That question earned me an eye roll and a hip pop. “Do I have a curfew or something?”
“That wasn’t an answer, Allison,” I growled, temper flaring at her show of attitude.
“When I feel like it. How’s that sound?”
Like I’m going to be tossing you over my shoulder and dragging you out of there before spanking that delectable ass for being a brat.
Clenching my jaw tight enough to crack a molar, I said, “Have a nice evening.”
Allison stared up at me, her eyes searching. “That’s it? After the grand inquisition, it’s just ‘have anice evening’?”
“Mm-hmm.” Though it killed me to tear my gaze away from her looking like a Christmas gift I wanted to unwrap, I forced myself to turn my back on her, striding back in the direction I came without another word.
Enjoy your head start, princess.
Euphoria was always packed with a line out the door, but Saturday nights were the busiest by far.
Accessing the building via my code at the back entrance, I hoofed it to the upper level reserved for VIPs, where I knew Summer would have secured a table. The staff here all knew she was the boss’s wife and went above and beyond to give her the royal treatment. Because that’s what she was—Matteo’s queen.
Though the three Bellini women—Gabi being the only one who held that distinction by blood, even if not by name—were nowhere to be seen, there was a table near the back with a gold placard marking it as reserved. The club only had one of those and broke it out for us whenever we visited the establishment.
Plopping down onto one of the leather chairs, I eyed the selection of liquor bottles abandoned on the tabletop—vodka, tequila, rum. None of those were going to work for me, so I flagged down a server.
Recognition lit up in the busty blonde’s eyes, and she purred, “Enzo, the usual?”
I inwardly cringed. The bachelor life had been good to me—very good—and I’d never given mixing business with pleasure a second thought. But this was the first time that casually fucking an employee inthe past had the potential to blow up in my face, so I needed to shut it down, and fast.
Choosing my words very carefully, I said, “My wife seems to have forgotten to order a bottle of Macallan for the table.”
The blonde’s mouth dropped open. “W-wife?”
“Mmm.” I lifted my left hand, letting the overhead lights catch on the gold band resting there as I rubbed my jaw. “You can’t miss her. She’s the stunningly curvy creature in silver.”
“Did you saysilver?”
Her brows shot sky high, likely realizing my wife’s build was the polar opposite of her own bony frame. I arched one of mine in a silent challenge as I dipped my chin in confirmation, almost daring her to make a remark about Allison’s size—a size I was fucking obsessed with.
“Well, um, congrats. She’s very pretty.”
