we’re not that busy.’
Vinny Butler slapped his employees on the back, and explained he’d given Little Vinny the day off. He trusted Pete and Paul like family and treated them accordingly. Not only had they helped him dispose of the Turks last year, they’d worked for him since he and Roy had opened the Whitechapel club as teenagers.
‘We heard a bit of news, Vin. Denny McCann kicked the bucket yesterday. Apparently it was a heart attack,’ Paul informed his boss.
Vinny Butler raised his eyebrows. Denny McCann had once opened up a rival club and nicked a load of his customers. The bloke was only in his early fifties. ‘Oh well, good riddance to bad rubbish,’ Vinny said nonchalantly. ‘Right, I’m off to the office. Got some phone calls to make.’
‘Oh, that reminds me. A bird rung up earlier. Said it was urgent you contacted her, so I left her number on your desk,’ Pete explained.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Izzy.’
Momentarily lost for words, Vinny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She might be Bella to Michael, but she’d always be Izzy to him.
Michael Butler leaned over Katy and grabbed the phone. ‘Keep schtum,’ he ordered. It wasn’t even seven a.m. yet and whoever was ringing him at such an unearthly hour better have a damn good reason.
‘Michael, it’s Mary. You really need to keep those sons of yours on a tighter rein you know. Daniel is out of control and you’re lucky Donald and I never called the police.’
Feeling dazed and slightly hungover, Michael sat upright. ‘What you going on about, Mary?’
While Mary explained what had gone on at the café the previous day, Katy thought it would be a good idea to suck Michael’s penis.
Instantly erect, Michael lay back on the pillow and allowed Katy to cheer him up while his one-time mother-in-law continued ranting. For one so young, Katy certainly knew how to give good head. He would have to jog her on soon though. The constant turning up at the club without being invited was borderline stalking.
Vinny Butler put on his black Armani suit and studied himself in the mirror. He looked mighty fine for forty and he knew it. Training regularly had bulked him up and the extra muscle suited his six-foot-two frame.
Touching his hair up with a bit more Brylcreem, Vinny thought about the phone call. She’d given nothing away, had just asked to meet up. ‘We need to talk, in person,’ had been her exact words.
Vinny wasn’t stupid. He guessed this meet would be about Michael, yet that didn’t stop his groin twitching as he thought back to that night he’d spent with her. The sex had been out of this world. She was a right raver, had made him come like a steam train. And truth be told, that was where the problem lay.
Bella D’Angelo was a dedicated follower of fashion. She had a luxury walk-in wardrobe filled with designer clothes, but today she’d decided to dress down. The thought of Vinny staring at her cleavage or buttocks made Bella nauseous, which was why she’d opted to wear a long baggy jumper, leggings and boots.
She’d tried to kill time by wandering around the local market, but had given up, unable to concentrate with the prospect of a meet with Vinny hanging over her. So Bella arrived at the bar forty-five minutes early and ordered herself a glass of wine. She’d chosen Covent Garden as it was often packed with tourists and there was less chance of anybody recognizing her or Vinny.
‘Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lovely Izzy. Can I get you a drink?’
Continuing to coolly flick through her Vogue magazine, Bella took her time looking up and replying. She was determined to have the upper hand. ‘Get yourself a drink; I’ve already got one, thanks. And my name is Bella, so I would appreciate it if you’d address me as such.’
Slightly taken aback by Bella’s cool demeanour, Vinny ordered himself a large Scotch. He discreetly watched her from the bar. He’d put money on it she was only pretending to read that magazine. He also noted she’d purposely dressed down. Not that it mattered. She was that stunning; she’d look fuckable wearing a bin bag.
Vinny smirked as he sat opposite Bella. ‘This is cosy, isn’t it?’
‘No, Vinny. It isn’t. I do appreciate you agreeing to meet me though. We need to talk about Michael.’
‘Whaddya wanna know?’
‘How is he?’
‘Yeah, Michael’s good. Gets on with life, don’t he?’
‘What do you mean by that exactly?’ Bella asked.
‘That birds come and go, you included. Handsome man like Michael ain’t ever gonna be short of female admirers.’
Bella’s heart lurched. She hadn’t officially ended her relationship with Michael, had just told him she needed some space. No way would he be unfaithful to her, Bella was sure of that. ‘Don’t fucking play games with me, Vinny. You’re out your depth.’
Vinny chuckled. ‘You didn’t mind me playing games with you when we were holed up in that hotel. Begged me to tie you up, if I remember rightly. What’s changed, Izzy? Sorry, I mean, Bella.’
Hating Vinny more than ever, Bella fleetingly worried if she should come clean to her father and let him sort the situation out. She quickly decided against it though. She could never risk anybody finding out Antonio was Vinny’s child. That was her secret and hers alone.
‘Want another drink?’ Vinny asked cockily.
‘No. I want you to listen to me carefully. I love your brother very much and I will not allow you to spoil our happiness. What happened between us was a stupid drunken one-night stand. Nothing more, nothing less. I was hoping you would’ve realized that by now, but you obviously haven’t. So tomorrow, I am going to visit Michael and tell him everything. And believe me, Vinny, I will not leave one detail out. Michael needs to know the truth.’
Vivian Harris felt like a lost sheep. It was all right for Queenie when they had a row as she had all her kids and grandkids around her, but now that Lenny was dead, Viv had nobody.
‘Where’s your shadow?’ Terry on the fruit-and-veg stall shouted out.
‘We ain’t joined at the bleedin’ hip, you know,’ Viv yelled back. Neither her nor Queenie ever discussed family business with outsiders. The nosy neighbours would have a field day if they even got a sniff of an argument.
‘Hello, Viv. I thought you were gonna just walk past me then.’
‘Sorry, Albie. In a world of me own today.’
‘Where’s Queenie?’
‘Don’t ask. We’ve fallen out good and proper this time.’
‘Not over you telling Michael I was welcome to come for dinner, surely?’
Having
