style="font-size:15px;"> “I can’t believe I’m having dinner with a baseball star, a celebrated news anchor, a race car legend and the owner of my favorite Italian restaurant. What a treat! Someone pinch me!”
Everyone laughed, and Markos knew inviting her to dinner had been a wise move.
“Tatiyana, what do you do for a living?” Jariah Morretti, Nicco’s wife, dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “You must be in the entertainment industry because you’re a firecracker.”
“I wish! I’m not a star, but I love reality TV.”
“Me, too!” Sharleen eagerly nodded. “Did you see the season finale of Dating in the City last night? I almost died when Nelson Hamilton dumped Penelope at her sister’s wedding. Twenty-four hours later, and I’m still pissed...”
The men groaned, objecting loudly to the topic, but Paris silenced them with a menacing look. “Don’t make fun. Dating’s changed drastically in the last ten years, and if not for smart, thought-provoking reality shows like, The Love Test, and Relationships 101, my friends and I would still be in the dark about men.”
Everyone spoke at once, but Rafael’s voice cut through the noise.
“Baby, that’s ridiculous,” he argued, draping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “You don’t need a television show to learn about men. Just ask me. I’m the only man you need.”
Giggling, Paris cupped her husband’s face in her hands and gave him a peck on the lips.
The waitstaff returned, carrying several bottles of champagne, and Tatiyana dropped her utensils on her gold plate. “Champagne? You’re my kind of people!”
“What are we celebrating?” Markos asked, settling back into his arm chair.
Sharleen beamed. “Emilio’s ESPN Athlete of the Year award.”
“Another one? That’s the third award of your career.” Markos gave his brother a one-arm hug, then ruffled his hair. “I’m proud of you, little bro. Good job.”
Clasping Sharleen’s hand, Emilio raised it to his mouth and kissed it. “Baby, you deserve this award as much as I do, if not more,” he said quietly. “If not for you, I’d still be sitting in my living room, watching home videos of Lucca, drowning in grief and despair.”
“As usual, you’re giving me way too much credit. You’re the talent, baby, not me.”
“Sharleen, could you be a little less supportive?” Angela wore a sheepish expression on her face. “I want my man to win that coveted award, too, but Emilio’s impossible to beat.”
“Keep hope alive, sister-in-law! There’s always next year.”
Laughing, Dionne Fontaine-Morretti, Immanuel’s wife, filled each flute to the brim. The couple had eloped to Hawaii two weeks earlier, shocking their friends and family, and Tatiyana had enjoyed hearing about their wild, romantic weekend in Maui.
“To Emilio!” Nicco raised his glass in the air. “May this award catapult you to greater heights, and cement your place in Formula One history. Saluti!”
Cheering, everyone around the table clinked glasses.
“What do you guys want to do now?” Angela asked. “I’ve had a rough week at the news station, and if anyone deserves to party tonight it’s me.”
“Let’s go to the sports bar,” Immanuel proposed, checking the time on his gold wristwatch. “The World Rugby Championship is on, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Bor-ing,” the women sang in unison.
“Markos, are you ready to go?” Tatiyana asked, tucking her purse under her forearm.
Dionne frowned. “Why are you whispering, and where are you guys sneaking off to?”
“Applause Nightclub,” she explained. “It’s old-school night, and all of my favorite acts are performing, including Divas.”
Angela whooped for joy. “Count me in!”
“Me, too.” Jariah slipped on her Pashmina shawl and hopped to her feet. “I’m game.”
“I’m going!” Dionne said. “I love R&B music, and I’m the biggest Divas fan ever.”
Immanuel kissed her forehead. “Then it’s settled. We’re going to the concert.”
Markos was convinced his ears were deceiving him. His brother, a security specialist with a stellar résumé, who they jokingly called Sharpshooter, wouldn’t be caught dead in a noisy, smoky club. Immanuel didn’t dance, preferred classical music to hip-hop and often joked he’d been born in the wrong decade. Leaning toward his brother, he kept his voice low, asking, “What happened to the rugby match? I thought you wanted to cheer on the Italian team.”
“It’s no biggie. I’ll catch the highlights when we get back tonight.”
“But you hate nightclubs,” Markos pointed out, confused by his brother’s behavior.
“I know,” Immanuel conceded with a shrug, his gaze glued to his wife, love shining in his eyes. “But what my baby wants, my baby gets, so let’s bounce.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the club’s full,” the bouncer said, folding his arms rigidly across his flabby chest. “Better luck next time.”
Tatiyana cringed. It was a dig, an insult meant to embarrass her in front of the chic, crowd waiting outside Applause Nightclub, located in the Ybor entertainment district. Behind her, she heard people snicker. Ma’am? The word annoyed her, and the sneer on the bouncer’s face confirmed her suspicions. He was trying to humiliate her.
“I’m calling Rafael to tell him what’s going on,” Paris said, putting her iPhone to her ear.
Jariah protested. “No, don’t. We can handle this. We’re Morrettis now, remember?”
“Exactly!” Angela agreed, fervently nodding. “We’ve got this. We don’t need the guys to rescue us. We can take care of ourselves.”
At her request, the guys had dropped them off in front of the club so they could reserve a VIP room, but if Tatiyana knew the bouncer was going to give them a hard time, she would have stuck with the guys. No way he’d insult Markos and his famous family members.
Tatiyana could hear reggae music playing inside the club, a loud, infectious beat that made her want to dance, and wanted inside the hottest party in Tampa. She knew Divas were going to put on one hell of a show for their fans, and, since Tatiyana was determined to see the group perform live, she stepped forward and glared at the heavyset bouncer. “I flew thousands of miles to see—”
“Ma’am, come back tomorrow night. Women get in free until midnight.”
Tatiyana gestured to the scantily dressed women sailing past the red, velvet rope. “If the club’s full, then where are
