The Full Moon Speakeasy

CHAPTER THREE: Date with a Mob Boss

His arm locked around her when they stepped outside into the wintery flurry. The alley was completely empty, the street lights were on, and the city was at an eerie sort of still. The warmth radiating from Noah was more effective at protecting her from the cold than her wool coat. “Where exactly are we going?” she asked.

He winked. “You’ll see.” 

They headed down the alleyway and Luci couldn’t fight the urge to look back over her shoulder at the door to the speakeasy. She worried for Thelma and she was at a complete loss as to how she had gotten so easily pulled away from her friend. 

She looked happy… But Emil is so strange. He seems to have a hair-trigger temper. 

She studied the side of Noah’s face as they walked, knowing that it was too late to back out. Noah was a stranger and the only two things she knew so far about him was that he was charming, and he was a mob boss. And while Lucille had never been around any mobsters, she had heard enough about them to know that ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in their vocabulary. And she was on a date with him. 

An anxiety was blossoming in her chest, but she tried to tell herself that she only had to get through the date. How long could that be, an hour or two? She could do that. Then she would go home and not have to think about it ever again. And yet… as much as her anxiety tried to sway her, she knew that she didn’t want to run. Maybe she was curious, maybe there was something more to it. 

The main streets of New Borough still had people filtering through, but they were seldom. Yet, every time they passed by someone, she heard them mutter things like, “Evening Lupo”, “Excuse me, sir”, and “Buona notte, Lupo”. 

“You’re kind of famous, aren’t you?” Luci commented. 

He chuckled and shrugged. “I think it’s expected for me to be known around here. This is my terf.” 

“What do you mean by that?” she replied, blinking up at him. 

“It means that from 6th Street, all the way to 13th; and Main to Broad is my own little slice of the world. The people within it work for me, and I protect them.” 

“Protect them from what?” 

Noah’s head tilted side to side as he contemplated his response. “Other organizations that might try and encroach on this territory.” 

Organizations, eh? Don’t you mean gangs? 

“But wouldn’t they be trying to get at you and your…. Organization? Rather than just random people?” 

He blinked and looked down to her with narrowed eyes. “You’re rather blunt, aren’t you? Very to the point.” 

“What’s the point in beating around the bush?” she fired back. 

He smirked. “To attempt not to offend others. Others you wouldn’t want to offend.”

“Have I offended you in some way?” As confident and calm as her tone was, Luci’s heart was thumping its way into her throat. What if the answer was yes? What was she supposed to do? 

After a long, painful pause, Noah finally relieved her of the pressure. “No, you haven’t. Something tells me while you might be slightly immune to my charms, I’m a sucker for yours.” 

She couldn’t have held back the snort even if she wanted to. “You find me charming?” 

“Is that so surprising?” 

Shrugging, Luci turned her attention toward the road ahead. “It would just be a first.”

Noah was tutting again. “I find that hard to believe. Perhaps you just don’t know how to pick up on the signs that someone is smitten with you.”

“Are you saying you’re smitten with me? We just met.”

* * * *

She must feel it too. She just doesn’t understand it yet. 

Never before did Noah think that walking into his club that evening to see to routine business, that he would have stumbled into a mate. Lucille Renaud was fated to him, he felt it down to his bones. There had been times in his ignorant youth that he had mistaken infatuation and attraction for such a feeling, but it had never felt like that. The moment he stepped into the main room of the club and she was there, he was pulled into her orbit. No, pulled was too gentle of a word. He was propelled, tugged, slung, dragged, and forced into it. 

It was a force of nature, just like gravity. And there was no denying it. 

That certainly didn’t mean that things weren’t complicated. They certainly were, but she didn’t need to know that. Not yet. As sure of it he was, Noah felt the need to confirm it somehow. Besides, he didn’t want to scare her off. There was a certain level of nuance that was utilized in those situations. 

“Maybe I’m easily made smitten,” he finally replied with a cheeky grin. Peering up to the building, he gently tugged her toward the door. “We’re here.” 

First to greet them upon entering the restaurant was warmth, followed immediately by smell. Fresh bread, hearty marinara, sizzling steak was all present in the air you could almost taste the herbs, butter, and oil that made up every component. The host snapped into position and gave a politician’s smile. “Mr. Lupo, it’s a pleasure. Your usual table?” 

“Yes, please,” he answered. 

The two of them were guided to a set of stairs. There, was a private table just at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the entire restaurant. The space was filled with the soft, yellowish glow of chandeliers and candles. Noah took the time to pull out her chair and push her in before he sat down across from her. He watched with fascinated eyes as she took off her snow-dusted hat and coat. Lucille proved to be as breathtaking as she was adorable. Her chestnut hair didn’t even reach her chin, chopped in one of the stylish cuts of the day. She had a peppering of freckles across her pale cheeks and button nose, and enchanting green-brown hazel eyes that were more severe than he thought she knew. She was petite in stature, but she was plush, full-bodied, and curvy. 

“Usual table?” she questioned, breaking him from his train of thoughts. “Taking me on the date you take all the girls on?” 

He let out an easy chuckle. “I haven’t been the dating type in a while. This is where I usually have my business dinners.” 

She crossed her arms and eyed him in a way that made him feel dissected. “And I take it this is your restaurant?” 

“I’m part owner, yes,” Noah answered respectively. Her fingers drummed against her arms as she continued to study him. “What is it?” 

“Just trying to understand,” she answered right away. “Your… organization,” she began again, ensuring to add some emphasis to the word, “doesn’t make much sense to me.” 

The waiter approached and offered Noah a wine menu, but he  “Bring us a bottle of champagne, please.” When he glanced back over to Luci, he watched as her face flashed with surprise and then settled with realization. Of course his restaurant had alcohol on hand for him. 

Once the waiter walked off to fetch their champagne, Noah turned to her and c****d a brow. “And what is it about my organization that doesn’t make sense?” 

“Well, to be totally honest… You,” Lucille stated. “This might be a little forward, but your gang seems to all be Italian. How did an Irishman end up in charge? Don’t the two groups hate each other?” 

“We aren’t the Italian mafia, Lucille,” he stated with an easy smile. “I will give you that most are Italian, but there are exceptions. Like me. We only care if you’re our kind.”

“And what kind is that?” 

How am I supposed to word it, without scaring her? I don’t want to lie, either. 

“We’re a different breed. I don’t think it’s something you can see just walking down the street or anything. It’s something entirely different. Something… underneath the surface,” Noah explained to the best of his ability. 

“How cryptic,” Lucille responded, a little giggle escaping her. 

Her laugh was as effervescent and light as the bubbles in champagne, and he longed to drink down laugh after laugh. The waiter came back by, giving them each a glass of champagne and leaving the bottle in an ice bucket. “What would you like to eat this evening, Mr. Lupo?” 

“Sirloin, rare with a heaping portion of bolognese, please,” he told the waiter. 

When attention fell to Lucille, she blinked and looked up to the waiter with concern. “I’m sorry, I never received a menu…” 

“It’s a fully stocked kitchen, Lucille. Whatever you want, I’m sure they can make it,” he explained to her. 

A finger pressed to her chin as she mulled over the situation and then looked back at the waiter. “You guys have tiramisu?” 

“Yes, madam,” the waiter stated, bowing his head before heading off. 

Noah raised a brow at her. “You’re having dessert and not a meal?” 

“Is dessert not classified as a meal? I must have missed that in the papers,” Lucille responded with ease. 

She really is full of spunk, isn’t she?

“Why does everyone call you Lupo? What does that mean?” she asked. 

He forced a smile then. “It’s a story for another time. Now, I really must say you’ve done a good job of interrogating me. I think it’s my turn to get to know you. Don’t you think?” 

She sipped the champagne and then nodded. “Alright then. Fire away.”

“Where are you from?” he asked. 

“Appleby. It’s in the southern part of the state. Tiny little town with only two stores.” 

Nodding, Noah studied her a while longer before asking. “What made you want to come to New Borough?” 

“Thelma wants to be an actress and I wasn’t going to let her come here alone. So I tagged along,” she answered matter-of-factly. 

“What about your parents?” 

“What about them?” she asked, a slight edge to her voice then. 

A sensitive subject. Tread lightly. 

“Are they alright with your choice in moving?” he asked as pleasantly and casually as he could. 

She shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.” 

There was more to that two word answer, but he didn’t want to pry further, worried that he would offend her. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m a waitress at a diner.” 

“Does it pay well?” 

A brow arched on her face. “Not as good as a mob boss, I’m sure. But I manage.”

He raised his hands in a mock surrender. “Fair enough. What about a boyfriend? Got one?” 

“Nope. Never.” 

“Never you say? How interesting,” he said. 

“How is that interesting?” 

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table and his hands coming together under his chin. “The way I see it, there’s only three possibilities. First being, you haven’t caught interest of anyone– which I find to be an impossibility. Second, you haven’t noticed anyone taking interesting– which I think could be likely, considering our earlier conversation.”

“And third?” she asked, the expression on her face shifting to one that looked to be challenging him. 

“That you have noticed, but haven’t cared, because they didn’t interest you. Which would be fascinating and flattering… Considering you so easily agreed to go on a date with me.” 

Her cheeks flushed red, and he couldn’t help but smirk as wide as the limitations of his face.