Except Nova spoke French.
The doorman never answered the last-name question. He just said very politely, “Miss Lola is coming down.”
The doorman looked extremely disapproving as he said it, though.
But they didn’t argue. They just sat over in a corner, all four of them eyeing this man until he turned his back, and Carlo asked Nova, “What’d he say?”
“He said, ‘Should I call your father?’” Nova whispered under his breath. “You probably should’ve asked her last name, strunzu.”
“She probably should’ve asked mine.” Carlo looked very hard all of a sudden, very angry as they all stared at the elevator and waited.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
So that was where they were at.
One dangerous enforcer/pissed-off uncle.
One powerful capo/freaked-out brother.
One near hysterical sorta ex-girlfriend.
And Carina.
The elevator dinged, and before any of them could do anything, Carina was up off the bench in the lobby. Brianna was temporarily stunned by the woman who stepped out because she was so incredibly beautiful. Like cover-model, movie-star, drop-dead-gorgeous, stop-in-the-middle-of-the-street-to-look-at kind of beautiful.
Her dark hair fell in long, tight curls that hung clear down to the middle of her back. She wore a long, flowing cream-colored dress that made her look like she was supposed to be on a yacht in the Caribbean. It was cut low, showing off an hourglass figure that really shouldn’t be normal because it made her look too perfect.
Maybe it wasn’t real, because if anyone looked like a kept woman, this one did.
“Where’s my brother, you plastic Barbie-doll bitch?” Carina growled in a voice shaking with fury.
Lola pulled back, looking down at Carina like she was one of those annoying, yappy dogs. Then she turned and arched an eyebrow at Carlo and Nova. “Who is her brother, and why does she think I care?”
“You know who her brother is. You’ve known him for years.” Carlo glared at her. “And I think you should answer her question, Lola.”
For the flash of one second, Brianna saw the fear when Lola’s amazing light eyes widened, and she studied the four of them. In particular, she looked from Nova to Carina as if it all clicked into place. Then just as fast, a shield of icy confidence seemed to fall over her.
“You should leave.” Lola stared at Carlo as she said it. “I told you before, I’m not interested.”
“Vafanculu!” Carlo shouted at her. “I’m not leaving!”
“No, vai a fanculo tu!” Lola shouted without backing down as she pointed at the door. “Uscite! O vi farò buttare fuori!”
Brianna didn’t know what Lola said, but something about it made Carlo turn and pull a gun on the doorman so quickly she gasped.
“Drop it, motherfucker,” Carlo growled. “I’m a shoot-first, ask-questions-later kinda guy.”
Brianna didn’t see it, but she heard the distinct clank of metal landing on marble.
The doorman raised his hands slowly. “Her father’s coming,” he said, as if Carlo holding a gun on him was a minor annoyance. “Best to clear off.”
“Who’s her father?” Carlo shrugged. “You think I can’t take him?”
“Maybe you can.” The doorman still seemed unfazed. “But can you take the twenty men he has with him?”
“We’ve got friends too.” Nova looked as ice-cold as the doorman, which had to be an act, because he was a nervous wreck the entire ride there. “So I guess it depends on who her father is.”
“Carmine Brambino.” The doorman said it like he expected them to quake in their boots.
The Brambinos were one of the original New York mafia families with a hundred years of violent history to back them up. Any normal person would be taken aback by that, because Carmine Brambino had been one of the more visible dons lately, especially since he’d been brought up on racketeering charges in a very public trial that got him off with time served last year.
But it must have occurred to all of them that the doorman didn’t know they were with the Moretti Borgata.
“If you want it, you have to pay for it,” Lola said in that same icy voice. “I told you before, talk to my father, but it’ll cost you more than a pretty face and a cup of coffee. Not that you’d know where to find a good cup of coffee.”
“You cunt.” Carlo’s voice was shaking in fury. “If you think—”
“We’re leaving,” Nova cut him off; his gaze was on Lola as he said, “If it’s more than a cup of coffee—”
“Yes, it’s a lot more.” Lola took a shuddering breath, her eyes widening in a strange sort of relief, but her tone didn’t change. “So take your guns and go home before you get hurt.”
“Fine.” Nova put his gun into the back of his jeans.
“What the hell?” Carlo asked in disbelief. “Fuck, no! You think I’m scared of—”
“Let’s go.” Nova gave Carlo a wide-eyed look, as if trying to silently communicate something.