Chapter Five
Isa
I entered my apartment around four in the morning ready for a few hours of sleep. I was exhausted from a busy night putting out one fire after another, something to be expected when opening a new club. And I was more than a bit messed up from meeting Baz.
Of all the times in my life to meet a man who affected me to such an intense level, it had to happen after I’d gotten engaged.
Baz made me feel like he could see deep inside me, down to my soul. Where I kept all my secrets.
And he wanted to meet for coffee. As friends.
Was that even possible with a man one was attracted to?
I walked straight into my bedroom, tugging at the zipper on the side of my dress. Just as I pulled the designer fabric over my head, my phone rang.
Throwing the dress on a nearby chair, I walked back into the living room where I’d dropped my purse.
The ringing stopped.
Pulling my cell out, I checked the display and groaned.
Oma.
This was going to be a long lecture. I’d better get comfortable.
I quickly ran into my closet, grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank, shrugged them on, and then called Oma back while crawling onto my bed.
“Where have you been? You should be in bed, not running around town. You’re engaged, for God’s sake.” The irritation in her voice was palpable.
I could admit I hadn’t made it easy for my family. Unless I was required to visit for a dinner or a gathering, I avoided them. And even on those occasions, I kept conversation to a minimum and found an excuse to leave early. I wanted to take every bit of freedom I would have before I became Frau Sebastian Weber.
The sad part was, I mainly spent my nights working. Yes, it was in my many nightclubs, but it was still work.
“Good morning, Oma. Why are you upset? I am in bed. It’s a bit early for a social call.” I yawned, feeling sleep pushing to the forefront of my mind.
“Don’t you lie to me. I’m not as naive as your papa, believing his precious girl is staying home every night even though she’s being forced into marriage.”
I wouldn’t say Papa was naive. Over the last month, I’d realized Papa was trying to make up for the whole mess we were in by letting me do what I wanted. He knew I went out every night. I never hid it, but he thought I was with my friends, not running my business. As long as my security reported that I was fine, he left me alone.
“If I were sleeping with someone you would have good cause to keep tabs on me. I’m not.”
“You better not.”
Her outrage made me want to laugh. But she was beyond old school and so I listened and kept my amusement to myself.
Oma probably thought I was a virgin too. Lord, if she only knew my deflowering had happened under her nose, while on vacation with her in Switzerland.
I’d been seventeen, about to move to university. I’d met an eighteen-year-old son of a diplomat and we’d had a quick fling. We’d both known it would go nowhere with our parents being who they were. In the end, we’d become friends. Friends who’d stayed in touch over the years and then eventually worked together when I’d opened my first club.
“Oma, I’m not going to run away. I’m enjoying my life and the freedom I have. Besides, where would I go?”
She remained quiet for a few seconds.
“Don’t get into trouble. Your papa and mama have enough on their shoulders.”
I clenched my jaw. I hadn’t spoken to my mother, outside of the required responses, since the night I’d found out about the contract.
I still couldn’t understand why she’d kept this from me.
Hell, why had she kept it from Papa?
They were the quintessential mafia romance couple whose story would rival the plots of the most popular novels.
“Oma, I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.”
Oma sighed. “It’s not easy for her. She made a vow to keep the truth from everyone.”
“A vow to who?”
“It doesn’t matter, Isa. Just know she isn’t the villain you want her to be. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s your Opa. God rest his soul, the man made decisions no one could argue with. His reasoning for going to Weber will stay with him in the grave.”
It had been three years since Opa had passed away. I’d loved my grandfather with all my heart. He was rough and grumpy and ruthless, just like Papa was today.
I knew to understand even an inkling of what he’d been thinking, I would have to talk to Mama.
“Do you miss him?”
“Every day.”
“Did you always love him?”
Why hadn’t I asked that before?
I guessed I’d never known a time when Opa and Oma weren’t the couple who were in love. Opa had been traditional, with clear ideas of the roles of men and women, but he’d treated Oma like a treasure.
“No, I actually hated him for the first two years of our fifty-three years together.”
“What?”
“He had a mistress, and I wasn’t going to accept it, no matter who he was. It took two years for him to get his head out of his ass. Once your Opa stopped living the life of a bachelor, I gave him a chance.”
“And it took you how long to love him?”
“Another year. Around the time your Aunt Carolena was born, I knew he’d changed.”
My Aunt Caro was a force of nature, and I adored her. She’d moved to America after her arranged marriage twenty years earlier and never looked back. She was the wife of an investment manager who catered to families like mine. Even though she could have lived a life of pampered luxury, she ran a chain of high-fashion resale shops that specialized in used designer clothing worn once, if ever.
“Do you think
