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"I have to pat you down before you can see Mr. Borelli."
I snorted very rudely. "Not unless you buy me dinner first."
A little flush filled the man's face before he said, "Sir—"
"No!" No one was touching me without my permission. I unbuttoned my suit jacket and held it up out of the way before turning in a full circle. "See? No gun."
I was not a threat to anyone.
The guy grimaced. "Please follow me."
I rebuttoned my suit jacket as we followed behind the guy, steeping onto the elevator. He pulled out a laminated card, waving it over a sensor built into the panel.
"How far up are we going?"
"The express elevator goes right to the penthouse, sir," the guard replied.
I really needed to stop watching mafia movies because everything I'd seen in the past said mobsters did business in low lit dingy bars and rickety old warehouses. Not fancy glass and cement buildings.
When the elevator stopped, the doors slid open to a small lobby with double doors. The lobby had the same design look at the main lobby on the first floor, but that was where it ended. The penthouse was all modern.
We were met by three more guards in dark suits the moment we stepped off the elevator. It was clear by the bulges under their suits that they felt we were a threat. It didn't help that we had only been allowed to bring Boris and one other guard with us. I would have felt a lot calmer if we had more security.
Never thought I'd think that.
One of the guards stepped forward and gave me a bow. "Good afternoon, Mr. D'Angelo. My name is Marco. I'm Mr. Borelli's assistant. He's waiting for you in the living room. Please, come this way."
We were led through the double doors to the most astounding room I was pretty sure I had ever been in. The ceilings were twenty feet tall. There was a large entryway in the middle of one wall with a fireplace on either side.
Directly across from that was a wall of windows and large folding doors that led out to a large balcony that overlooked the river. The room was large enough to hold two separate seating areas with a grand piano in the middle.
I was so busy looking around I didn't notice the man standing by one of the couches until he chuckled. I felt a flush heat my cheeks as I schooled my features.
"Good afternoon, Mr. D'Angelo," the tall imposing man said. "I am Vincenzo Borelli, thecaporegimeof the Borelli family, but please, call me Vinnie."
I knew I had to play nice with this man even if I technically outranked him. I walked over and shook his hand. "Anthony D'Angelo." I turned and gestured to Vito. "This is Vittorio Antonelli, my underboss."
"Vittorio?" Vinnie smiled. "I have a cousin named Vittorio. Do you go by Vito?"
"I do, sir," Vito answered.
"Very good." Vinnie gestured to the couches. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? A drink? Some coffee?"
"Coffee would be fine," Vito replied. "Thank you."
I'd rather have a drink, but I didn't mention that. I suspected getting tipsy around a rival mafia don was not a good idea.
Vinnie snapped his fingers and one of the guards walked away. Marco, as he had introduced himself, took up a position behind Vinnie. When I glanced back, Boris had done the same thing with me.
All the testosterone in the room was giving me a headache.
"I hope you don't mind," Vito started, "as Mr. D'Angelo is new to this world, I will be speaking on his behalf today."
I swallowed tightly when Vinnie's eyes pinned on me.
"Is this okay with you, Mr. D'Angelo?"
"For now," I answered honestly. "I have a lot to catch up on."
