Page 6 of Greed

I nod. “Sounds like you’re both working very hard; that’s good. Nice to know my money isn’t being wasted on you like it was on your brothers.”

“I still think I…” Lucia starts, but Chiara must have kicked her below the table, or something, because she cuts herself off. “Never mind.”

I narrow my eyes. “If it’s about joining the family business, I told you my answer is no. You’re going to get a proper job and run your own companies,” I say, wiping my mouth on a napkin and sipping my wine.

“Let’s go get cocktails,” Chiara says as she signals to the waiters that we’re done. We pay the bill weekly, so no need to get it now. I do, however, throw a couple hundred dollars on the table for a tip for the waiters who served us. They light up as they clear the table and we leave.

The Golden Globe is also busy, but we go straight to the VIP section and find a booth to sit down at. Chiara orders us each a cocktail. When it arrives, I look at the colorful concoction as though it’s the most offensive thing I’ve ever seen. This sends the girls into peals of laughter. Bruno picks his up slowly and sips it.

“It’s not that bad, Matty,” he comments.

I wrinkle my nose. “What’s wrong with a whiskey?”

“That’s not a cocktail, you silly goose,” Chiara chuckles.

I stare at her, then raise my hand, but she quickly pulls away. “Don’t touch my hair.”

“I’ll ruffle it, I swear,” I promise.

“Just taste it. It’s got tequila.” Lucia looks pleased with herself.

I sip it, and it isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, but it’s a bit fruity for my taste.

We talk about an array of subjects; well, they do. I keep a wary eye out around us, always assessing if there’s a threat. I order a whiskey and give Bruno the rest of my so-called cocktail.

I lean back in my seat and watch the girls as they chat excitedly about the friends they’re meeting at the club tonight. I know it’s been a highlight of theirs since they were old enough to party; our family owns some of the hottest clubs in Miami. It’s a point of pride for them.

We keep an eye on the clock, and once the club’s been open long enough for the bulk of the people to get in, we take a stroll there, as it’s not far from the Golden Globe. Chiara laces her arm through mine, and Lucia laces hers through Bruno’s. We laugh and talk as we walk.

We skip the queue and go straight to the front; no one utters a word. The doorman steps aside immediately and lets us in, and we walk directly to the VIP area where we sit at the main table. Bruno leaves us to get a round of drinks, but I know he wants to talk to his favorite waitress.

I look around at the heaving mass of people on the dance floor; it’s another pumping evening. The bar area is packed, the dance floor is as well, and it doesn’t take long for Bruno to come back with a round of drinks for us.

Bruno and I both take a whiskey, and the girls take their vodka and lemonades. We all sit for a spell, sipping our drinks and taking in the atmosphere before the girls excuse themselves to go dance.

Bruno watches me. “You going to check on them constantly?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re overprotective,” Bruno comments.

“I don’t think you’re aware of how much danger there is in the world, Bruno, and that worries me.”

I take my drink and get up, going to the railing that separates the VIP area from the main area and the dance floor. I spot my baby sisters dancing with friends of theirs. Undoubtedly, they’ll invite them to the VIP area to show off.

A flash of white catches my eye, and I look to the left of my sisters to see a beautiful woman swaying on the dance floor. She’s wearing a tight, white dress and her curly brown hair hangs past her shapely arse. Fuck. She’s sexy as hell.

I smirk as I sip my drink, imagining how I’d bend her over a table. Bruno appears at my side and looks at me, then looks in the direction I’m looking.

“I wouldn’t, Matty,” he chuckles.

“Wouldn’t what?” I say, trying to sound as casual as I can while my eyes focus on the beautiful woman.

“You know exactly.”

I study the woman’s face. She looks familiar. “You clearly know something I don’t. Who is she?”

“You don’t recognize her? That’s Guila Bianchi.” Bruno pats my back and walks back to the waitress who stands near our table.