Giovanni knew that Darby had been taken aside, away from the cameras, and warned not to make trouble in the nightclub. Stefano, Giovanni’s oldest brother, was a very scary—and dangerous—man. Darby might think he was protected by those cameras, but he wasn’t. There would be retaliation if he dared to cause a scene in any business owned by the Ferraro family.
Still, it was important to Giovanni that his family not find out that the warning wasn’t enough by Darby doing something to Sasha to increase his television ratings. Darby was getting too much attention and wasn’t taking responsibility for any of his actions. When that happened, Giovanni knew, bad behavior only escalated.
He watched as Sasha shook her head, smiled and stepped back when Darby tried to stuff the wad of bills down her top. He was half out of his seat when Darby laughed and handed her the money. She nodded and moved away, back down the stairs to get her next round of drinks. She only had to go down to the bar that served the two VIP tiers. It made it easier for the waitresses, not having to carry drinks up or down two flights of stairs.
Seeing she was safe for the moment, Giovanni flipped open the folder and began to read the pertinent facts. She was single, no committed relationship. That was always asked casually in conversation. It helped to determine whether or not the potential server was available in the night hours. No husband, boyfriend or child calling them back home before closing, although many of their servers were married.
She was twenty-two. There was no one listed for an emergency call. She lived in one of the apartments over Masci’s deli, so in the heart of Ferraro territory. The family, in fact, owned the building and the apartment she rented. They had a property manager, of course, but there was satisfaction in knowing she was protected.
“Giovanni.” Taviano’s voice was low. A warning.
He lifted his gaze to the stairs. Sasha was just a few feet from the MMA champion’s table. All eyes were on her. The way several of the men, including Aaron, were staring at her in such a predatory way had him on his feet. Sasha set the drinks on the table, each one in front of the men and women. James Corlege’s hand disappeared under her skirt, and Sasha leapt back, half turning, dropping the tray. Aaron steadied her with his hands on her waist. He pulled her back onto his lap and nuzzled her throat.
Giovanni and Taviano both were on their feet and moving fast. The MMA table was only a few feet away, and Giovanni tossed men out of the way as if they were dolls, got to Sasha, pulled her off Aaron and pushed her behind him. Taviano caught her and handed her off to Emilio and Enzo, two of their private bodyguards, who had followed them.
Corlege took a swing at Giovanni as Aaron stood up. Giovanni ducked the punch and landed three on Corlege so fast his hands appeared a blur. The first punch doubled Corlege over, the second straightened him up and the third knocked him out. Giovanni turned toward Aaron, who backed up, hands in the air. The rest of the fighters were up as well, looking to spring into action. One, Tom Mariland, snapped a roundhouse kick at Giovanni’s head. Giovanni blocked it so hard, the leg slammed down, dead. Giovanni followed the block with a sweep, taking both legs out from under the man and sending him crashing to the floor.
“Wait, wait,” Aaron said. “Everyone stop. Giovanni, man, we’ve been friends for years. We were just celebrating. I’m a little drunk and things got out of hand. Let me apologize to your waitress. It won’t happen again. I swear it won’t.”
Giovanni wanted to deck him on principle, but truthfully, he’d acted nearly as bad. Aaron was a good man and a friend he’d known since childhood. He didn’t know much about James Corlege, or Tom Mariland, but they’d been drinking heavily as well.
“You can leave her a good tip,” Giovanni decreed. “And Aaron, you know me. Your friends don’t.” It was a warning that despite the training, Giovanni could take them. Aaron had come to his house a few times to train. He knew Giovanni could wipe up the floor with any of the fighters. “No more problems tonight. I’m not going to have my waitress lose out on her tips on this tier by sending her somewhere else. Keep your hands off her. You’ll go, not her.”
Aaron nodded. “You got it. Again, I’m really sorry.”
Giovanni bent down and picked up the tray. The fighters were pulling Corlege off the floor and getting him into a chair. Corlege, looking a little groggy, glared up at Giovanni. “That felt like I ran into a fucking freight train. I’ve taken a lot of hard hits, but never felt anything like that.”
A few others helped Tom Mariland up. He didn’t say anything, but he did eye Giovanni warily.
Giovanni ignored the man and turned back to the waitress. Emilio and Enzo made a solid wall on either side of Sasha. Giovanni went right up to her.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. He could see the pulse pounding frantically in her throat. He reached for her, taking her out of his bodyguards’ hands. Pulling her in close, until he felt her body pressed to his, he hugged her gently. “I’m sorry this happened. We’re protective of our servers and we definitely should have gotten here faster. Were you hurt?”
She shook her head. He could feel the fine tremors running through her body. He knew he couldn’t hold her forever or she would think he was just as bad as Aaron. Also, the paparazzi were out in force. Flashes had been going off everywhere during the brief exchange. He angled them so his body prevented pictures of her. Very reluctantly he let go of her.
“Take a fifteen-minute break and then come back. No one is going to put their hands on you again. Anyone tries it, you tell me or security immediately and they’re gone.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice steady. She took the tray. “Thank you. I wasn’t certain what to do. I know they’re regulars and pay a good deal of money for having those tables.”
“That’s all they’re paying for. They don’t get to touch you or any other server. They want that kind of service they can go to a strip joint.” He knew, after overhearing the rules of his ridiculous game, he sounded like a hypocrite, but he had to make her understand. “You’re under our family’s protection, Sasha. The nonsense I was spouting was a load of crap. No one touches you without your consent. Not ever. You understand? Security should have come to our table when it was clear you were uncomfortable with what I was saying to you. You understand? You don’t have to put up with anything.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” She turned away, and he nodded to his bodyguards.
Emilio stepped in front of her. “I’ll take you down so the cameras stay out of your face.”
She flashed Emilio the smile Giovanni wished was for him alone. Up close to her, his body reacted. Not just his cock, his entire body. She did something to him he didn’t understand or necessarily want, but it wasn’t going away. It was getting stronger. He went back to his table where West was waiting again.
“You were right. She shouldn’t have been up there.”
“No, that wasn’t her fault. They’ve had a lot to drink. She’s gorgeous though. Let her finish out the night. They’re ordering more drinks because of her. She’s an asset. Just give her the training in what to do if she’s in trouble. Taviano spotted the trouble before it really got off the ground. But, West, you go look at the security tapes. I was harassing her big-time. I put my hands on her. Where the fuck was security? They should have been all over that.”
West nodded. He held out his hand for the folder on his employee, and Giovanni put it in his hands, detesting giving it up. He hoped he’d made a little headway with her, but he doubted it, not if the smile she’d given Emilio was anything to go by—she hadn’t given him one.