Leda nodded, and I tucked her hand in mine, leading her to the car. I made the promise, and now I had to live up to it.
We climbed in the car, and it started toward the destination, followed by the SUV that the rest of my guards would ride in. Idly I wondered if Leda was used to being so protected whenever she was in her father’s presence. As a Don, it had been hard for me to get used to the guards’ sudden and sometimes unwanted presence.
I was a loner as an enforcer, and I took solace in that fact. But all of that changed after I became Don. No matter where I went, there was always somebody in my shadows. The capos didn’t believe in letting their leader alone. Whether they wanted to keep an eye on me to keep me from doing something stupid, or just wanted to keep an eye on me for other reasons, it didn’t matter.
Rocco was right, if I were here, I should check up on the situation with the boys in the Battery. Sometimes, it was worth reminding them just who was the boss and who were his followers.
Not tonight. Not yet.
Likely, word had already gotten out that I was in the city. We just stepped off a yacht, one that even a blind man couldn’t miss.
It both pissed me off and made me weary in the same breath. Being a Don was draining, to say the least, especially when you couldn’t hide.
The car pulled up to the familiar place on Mott Street, and I waited for Rocco to open my door. “Make a perimeter,” I told him as I buttoned my coat. “We won’t be here long.” I had every intention of taking Leda somewhere else after this stop. But whenever I was in the city, I liked to make an appearance, to show that this, too, was under my protection.
Walking around to the other door, I opened it and helped Leda out of the car. “Chinatown?” she asked, looking around. “I haven’t been here in ages.”
“There’s something I need to check up on, and then we’ll head out.” I told her, not wanting to leave her in the car. The closer I kept her to my side, the better I felt that I could keep her safe.
“Oh, we aren’t eating here?”
I glanced at her. I had already booked a table at Per Se at Columbus Circle, but the wistfulness in Leda’s eyes made me wonder if maybe I had gone overboard. She wasn’t what I would have thought a Mafia princess would be like, and continually surprised me with her down-to-earth nature.
It made me want more. “You want to eat here?”
“Can we?” she asked before biting her lip. “I mean, it’s been a while since I had some good authentic Chinese food.”
Well, hell. Leaning close, I brushed my lips over the shell of her ear. “Of course.”
When I pulled away, there was a genuine smile on her face and I shook my head, leading her inside the small restaurant. The smells were instantly familiar; the décor had not changed since I first set foot in the place all those years ago.
It almost felt like coming home.
Chapter 42
Lucas
“Xiao Lu!”
I turned around and saw the familiar shape of a small Asian woman in her seventies hurrying toward me. She was dressed in an absurdly traditionalredqipaothat looked faded with age. She told me years ago that she felt powerful any time she put the garment on, and I imagined she must’ve had a closetful of the dresses in every color because I had never seen her in anything else.
“Ruhua,” I answered in Cantonese, watching as Leda’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s good to see you.”
“Baoshan!” she shouted, even though the old man in question was literally standing only a few steps away. “Look who it is!”
“I see him,” he replied in Cantonese as he approached us, his weathered face wearing the same haughty look from my past. “And I can hear you just fine.”
“He’s going deaf,” Ruhua said, shaking her head. The tiny gold coins hanging from the comb in her gray hair tinkled as she did so, and I bit back a grin. The Wongs had been married for over fifty years, running the restaurant for forty of those years. While their food might not be the best the city had to offer, it was the people that brought me here.
“Leda, this is Wong Baoshan and his wife Li Ruhua,” I explained to Leda, who was watching the exchange with some surprise. “They own this restaurant.”
“I, um, nice to meet you.” Leda extended her head.
“Who is this?” Ruhua asked in Cantonese, giving me the appraising glance of a questioning mother. “She’s pretty. Too pretty for you. You never brought a woman here before.”
She was right. I had never brought anyone here save Rocco. “This is Leda,” I said instead, ignoring her question. “She wants to eat.”
“Well!” Baoshan exclaimed, his smile wide. “I’ll fix you a plate.”