Page 5 of Traitor
“Lyle? Don’t wait up. I have a dinner date I don’t want to miss,” I called out.
Lyle’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “Sir?”
I grinned as I reached for the doorknob. “You know how I hate being called that.”
“Are you sure you don’t need anyone coming with you?”
I peered over my shoulder. “You know as well as I do that I can take care of myself. Just try not to eat me out of house and home, all right?”
I tossed him a wink before I slipped out the door and eased myself into my blacked-out town car. I rattled off the name of the restaurant that would be graced by my presence this evening and sat back to enjoy the ride. I crossed my leg over my knee and watched as the vineyards passed us by. One by one, peppering the countryside that ran parallel to the beach while I rehearsed exactly what I’d say once I sat down in that chair in front of him.
And when I arrived at the restaurant, I barged right into the private room where I knew he’d be and took a seat across from him.
“Evening, Ronnie. Long time, no see.”
His eyes slowly rose to mine as I snapped my fingers. “A glass of your driest red wine, please. And I’ll have what he’s having.”
Ronnie raised his hand. “He isn’t staying.”
I smiled wildly “Trust me, I really am.”
I waved my hand at the waiter to go place my order as Ronnie set down his utensils. It wasn’t very often that I came face-to-face with the head of the Lucchese Family, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I was over this little halfling brother of his. Whatever bastard family he came from, I was ready to send him crawling back with his teeth jammed into his skull.
But, I kept a cool outer façade while Ronnie’s face turned beet red.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asked.
My smile settled into a comfortable grin. “To talk, of course.”
“How the hell did you know where to find me?”
I watched as a waitress dipped down to refill his wine glass. But, he placed his hand directly onto the woman’s face and shoved her back as if she were nothing but a curious puppy dog trying to climb into his lap.
That alone would’ve earned him a bullet to the kneecap if I hadn’t come with a need to talk instead of fight.
“So,” I said as the waiter handed me my glass of dry red wine, “how have things been?”
Ronnie’s nostrils flared. “You better get to the point, and quickly.”
I sipped my wine. “Mm, mm, mm. Charlotte would’ve enjoyed this.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not this again. For the last fucking time--.”
I set my wine glass down. “He works for you, right? Lorenzo?”
“Of course. He’s my brother.”
“Half-brother, actually. So, that means the actions he takes are, in fact, a reflection of the family as a whole. Correct?”
I thanked the waiter as he sat my food down in front of me, and the entire time I felt Ronnie’s eyes on my face.
“What is it you’re getting at, Mateo?” he asked curtly.
I cut into my steak. “Wow, my compliments to the chef. I haven’t even taken a bite and this smells--.”
He slammed his fist against the table, spilling my glass of wine. “Enough!”
I clicked my tongue. “Well, now you’re just going to have to get me another glass.”
