18
Antonio
“Get dressed, we’re going out.” I hand Mia a white box with Louis Vuitton symbols across the top. Her eyes bulge when she opens the box to reveal a silky green slip dress. When she pulls it over her body it hugs her in all the right places. The weight of her tits is made obvious by the straining material stretched across her chest. Similarly, her wide hips and rounded ass cheeks are outlined and draw the eye mercilessly. She stands by the bathroom door, pouting.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t have makeup, Antonio. Or heels. While a Louis Vuitton dress does wonders, I’m not doing it any justice, looking like this.”
I chuckle, having not even noticed these apparent flaws she has. “Come,” I say, opening her bedroom door. “Let’s find you some girl shit.”
I knock twice on Fiona’s door.
“What?” her angry teenage voice shouts from inside.
“I need your help, Fiona.”
There’s silence on the other side, then the door rips open. “Seriously?” She frowns at me, standing with her hip pushed out. I step away from the doorway to reveal Mia. Fiona’s eyes widen. “What’s this about?”
“Fiona, this is Mia.” Mia nods and smiles politely. She’s a good three years older than Fiona, but she humbles herself now. “Mia, my sister Fiona.” Introductions made, I turn back to my sister. “I wonder if you’d help her get ready for our dinner tonight.”
With a confused frown, she looks at Mia, who speaks up now. “Just a little makeup, if you don’t mind. Maybe some heels?”
I’ve known my sister for a long time, but you could say I don’t know her on a detailed level. This is made obvious when sudden excitement blooms on her face and she smiles. “Ohmigosh, yes!” I’m surprised to see her smile, let alone get excited about something. I now know that one of her favorite pastimes is to doll-up not only herself but other girls too. She pulls Mia by the hand and slams the door in my face.
I wait in the lobby, talking shit with Vinnie when she appears at the top of the stairs. My attention is immediately pulled to her presence. Fuck me. She’s stunning. I didn’t think much of it before, but now I see why Mia wanted the makeup. While she’s beautiful naturally, with makeup she’s a fucking queen. She’s smiling, which surprises me just as much as when Fiona did. Taking the steps gingerly in my sister’s insanely high heels, she walks across the lobby with confidence, nearly bringing me to my knees. When she stops in front of me, I notice her hair has been pinned up tastefully, and she has little green teardrop earrings to match the dress. Her makeup consists of a smokey eye look and dark, maroon-colored lipstick.
“Let’s go,” she says happily, while I’m left speechless and Vinnie laughs, clapping me on the back.
When we pull up to the family restaurant, you should see how the line of people turn their heads, I’m telling you, something about the emerald green against her olive skin is making every bit of her shine—I mean, fuck, she looks out of this world.
“A lot of people,” she states, looking at the line to enter the restaurant, to which I nod in agreement. Say what you want about my kid brother, but one thing Huxley’s good for is getting the punters to come to the door. Boulevard XXX, a restaurant and club, right next door to one another, is not what you might expect. Firstly, it has, without a doubt, the best Italian menu in the whole of Manhattan, and the club next door? Forget about it. Only here can you bring the wife for a meal, then come back later with the boys to suck a sambuca out of the navel of one of our barmaids. A little extra and we have a backroom where a “happy ending” is guaranteed. You can think of us as a multi-venture company.
“After you,” I tell Mia, the doorman waiting for us to pass. The dress I got her has an opening in the back in the shape of a V. Her skin is enticingly smooth as I follow her from the street and into the dimly lit restaurant that instantly transports you to a place far away from the chaos of Manhattan. Mia looks back at me, excitement in her eyes.
“Mr. Moretti, would you like your usual table?” The manager meets us at the door. He’s a good guy that isn’t easily scared off by my family’s other streams of revenue.
“Thanks, Gino. How’re the kids?” I hand him a few notes as we take our seats. All the bricks in the walls are exposed, wood beams run the length of the place with those ambient dimmed lights that make you feel like you’re in a cozy little terrace in Naples. Niccolò Paganini’s Caprice No. 24 plays softly in the background. Mia smiles politely toward mine and Gino’s small talk.
“The children are great, Mr. Moretti. My wife and I really appreciated what you did for us.”
“Aye, don’t mention it, listen”—I tell Gino, already knowing that I’m going to order the full works tonight— “bring us the tasting menu, and a bottle of Merlot. The good stuff.”
Mia’s eyes are dancing, looking like glass as they take in every aspect of the restaurant. She slowly shakes her head at me with a smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she answers. “This place… it’s beautiful. Not quite what I expected.”
Gino returns, pours two glasses of wine, and leaves the bottle in a cart next to our table.
“What did you expect?” I ask, my grin telling of my playful mood. I unbutton my suit jacket and lean forward to clink my glass against hers.
“I don’t know,” she admits, sipping her wine. “On the drive over, watching the distant buildings grow into high-rises as we neared, crossing the bridge, brought on this strange feeling. A yearning I didn’t know I had.”
“A yearning?”
“Yeah,” she continues. “For the city. I don’t remember living here, not really, nonetheless something about it calls to me. Makes me feel like I’m home.”