Chocolate and Italian Wine (Music and Mayhem Book 1) (3 page)

“What’s up, Wolfe?” Ray asked, putting his chin up.

“Don’t want problems, man. Let’s go,” Wolfe said. He was about to grab Ray’s arm, but at that exact moment, two discretely dressed members of hotel security walked up, as well.

Ray looked at Karisma and blew a kiss. He threw his hands up. “I don’t want no problems, either. I’m out,” he said and pointed at Karla before he left with the three men.

Karla looked to Kari, who gave her the slightest arch of her brow. Karla went after Ray. “Excuse me, I need to see what’s going on,” she said as she scurried off.

Paolo stepped to Karisma and said, “I take it he wasn’t invited.” She smiled and shook her head. “Ah, the ex who can’t let go,” Paolo added, taking a step closer. Of course, he really couldn’t blame the guy, but he’d done it to himself.

Karisma looked at Paolo and saw so many appealing things in those deep blue eyes, including concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “That’s been over a long time.”

“Well then, I hate to say goodnight so soon, but my brothers and I have had a long evening, as I’m sure you have. And we still have to make an appearance at FutureShock’s party. But I wanted to meet you and congratulate you on a most successful evening.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away from his brothers.

She smiled shyly at him and felt warm at his firm touch. She moved closer to him, not able to resist. Paolo asked, “I was wondering if you would have lunch with me tomorrow. I have a business proposition for you. You’re still in town, aren’t you?”

What type of proposition?
Karisma wondered. She knew what type she’d like. There was no denying that she felt a serious attraction toward Paolo, and standing so close to him as she inhaled his cologne was intoxicating. He smelled good. She looked up into his beautiful face and almost sighed instead of speaking. “Yes, we’ll be here for a month before we have to leave again. Then we start a twelve week tour.”

“Very good, then…lunch, tomorrow? May I pick you up, or would you feel more comfortable meeting me?” Paolo asked.

She thought about it. She didn’t want to appear too eager. “Business proposition, huh? How about I meet you there. Just tell me when and where. No offense.”

“Of course not. I’m not offended, at all. I’m honored that you agreed. I have a restaurant on the sunset strip. La Mia Calabria. Have you ever been there?” he asked.

“No, I’ve never had the pleasure.”

“Well, then, Miss Montgomery, it gives me immense pleasure that you’ll be joining me,” Paolo said, his eyes never leaving hers.

Suddenly, she felt her skin prickle.
Were their fingertips touching? When did he reach for her hand? Or did she reach for his?

“Is 1:00 good for you?” he asked, removing his light touch.

“Perfect, I’ll see you then,” Karisma cooed, still recalling the feel of Paolo’s lips and fingers on her hand.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Kari.” They stood quietly, breathing slowly, her ample breasts heaving ever so slightly. He kissed both of her cheeks in parting. His brothers were talking to others, but were aware and ready when Paolo approached them.

“You good?” Davit asked.

“Fuck, yeah,” Paolo replied.

“Was she what you’d imagined?” Davit asked, grinning.

“Better. I couldn’t dream up anything like her,” he said, willing himself not to look back at her.

“You getting with her?” Daniel asked.

“Tomorrow.”

“Shit, man. That’s fantastic,” Davit commented, laughing.

Daniel looked back at Karisma and winked. She smiled and waved. Karisma watched Paolo and his brothers leave. She thought he had more swag than any man she’d ever seen. With his model looks, and chiseled features, he was a record exec?

She turned back to the party as her agent, Valerie, walked up behind her and gave her a kiss toward her cheek. “Who was that?” Valerie asked, watching them leave as well.

“The Montovanis. They’re brothers,” Karisma said, still watching.

“Good looking brothers,” Valerie said. They giggled and gave each other high fives.

“Hell
yeah!” Karisma agreed.

“I know you got his number,” Valerie said, raising an arched brow.

“I’m seeing him at his restaurant tomorrow, in fact,” Karisma replied.

“Very nice. Have fun, girl. Oh, and by the way, Maxim Magazine is considering you for their Woman of The Year.”

Karisma clasped her hands together and bent her knees in excitement. “That’s good news! Wonderful, in fact. When will we know, Val?”

“In a few weeks,” Valerie told her.

“Aah, good job, Val. Thanks, girl. Who else is in the running?” she asked.

“Bitches that can’t hold a candle to you, Queen,” she said, already looking at her cell phone log.

“Cool. You’ll tell me who those bitches are, though, right?” Karisma asked, looking at Val. “Every queen needs to know who’s in competition for her crown.”

Valerie laughed out loud. Together they rejoined the party, and were converged upon, as everyone in attendance wanted an audience with the most famous woman in the world.

2

As she sat on the tall island stool in her modern, white, gourmet kitchen, Karisma looked at the steam wafting up into the air, bringing a smile to her face as she smelled the rich, aromatic scent of her coffee. She raised the ceramic mug to her lips and sipped the delightful brew. 
Umm
, she thought. Coffee was her morning indulgence and a pleasure she made sure to partake in no matter how busy her schedule was. She liked it with lots of sugar and just enough cream in the hot liquid, making it a rich creamy color that was not unlike her own skin tone.

Glancing over at the clock on the Keurig coffee maker, she saw that it was 10:17 AM. She’d barely slept a wink, not getting home until nearly 5 in the morning, but managed to catch some sleep, only to awake with one eager thought—lunch with the fine Mr. Paolo Montovani. 

“What is Mr. Montovani’s story,” she said out loud and tapped her long, slender fingers on the counter top. She reached out for her MacBook Pro and powered it up, entering his name into the Google search box. His handsome image came up right away, along with a Wikipedia definition.
Soo good looking
, she thought. “Wow!” escaped her lips.

“You say someting, Miss Kari?” her house manager, Stella, asked in that lyrical Jamaican patois of hers that Karisma loved to hear.

“No, Stella, just looking at something on the internet,” she mumbled, not bothering to turn around. Her eyes were glued to the computer screen and the masculine beauty that was Paolo Montovani. She eagerly read all about him:

Born October 2, 1985 in Calabria, Italy
. That makes you twenty-eight. Perfect, she thought.
Received a BS in Business from USC in 2007. Graduated from
Stanford University four years ago with an MBA. 
Hot and smart, huh?
Owns the Montovani Towers in West Los Angeles, La Mia Calabria Restaurant on Sunset, and has just recently taken over the majority share of FutureShock Records to become its owner and CEO. Son of Raffaelo Montovani, a Calabrian businessman with ties in the US, Canada, Australia, and Germany. Fiancé, Maria Elena Bianchi.

Uh oh. Back up.
Everything screeched to a halt
. Fiancé?! No way!
 “Really?” Kari said aloud again. The fiancé was a real downer and she looked for some images of them together, but there was nothing. It was like she didn’t exist, not in his life anyway. Perhaps the information was outdated.

This time Stella came into the room and walked over to see what was going on. “Whachu talkin’ to yourself like dat for, girl?”

Karisma’s large eyes widened. She smirked at Stella. “I’m going crazy. You’ve said so a thousand times.”

“You can go crazy if you want. Just make sure I get paid every Friday while you’re in the nut house,” Stella said with a rich, hearty laugh.

“Wow, Stella. I always knew you loved me for me,” Karisma tossed back, grinning at her. She adored Stella and her sassiness, embracing their back and forth banter. Turning the computer screen to Stella, Karisma said, “Look, Stella. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Stella leaned over and peered at the sapphire blue eyes staring back from the screen. “Why are his eyes so blue? Are dose contacts he’s wearin’?” Stella asked.

“They didn’t appear to be. I met him last night. His name’s Paolo,” she said slowly, with a saccharine smile and batting her eyelashes like a diva.

“You better be careful. He’s as pretty as you. You don’t want no man you gone have to fight with for da mirror.”

Karisma burst out laughing. “Oh my gawd! The things you say, Stella.” She shook her head.

“Alright,” Stella said in warning, raising an eyebrow as she moved toward the sink.

Stella Swanson had been Karisma’s house manager for the past five years after they met at a hotel in Miami where she was a housekeeper. Goldust had stayed there while on tour and Stella hadn’t realized Karisma was still sleeping when she went in to clean the room. Yeah, she was very surprised to see Karisma Montgomery standing there in white satin pajamas with black polka dots as she hummed a song to the tune of the vacuum cleaner. She’d been fearful of losing her job that day, but Karisma was kind and had assured the woman she had nothing to worry about. Months later, she got hired by Karisma, who adored her, her musical voice, and her mastery of Jamaican cuisine.

Walking into the kitchen where Karisma just finished her ogle-fest of Paolo, Wolfe made his presence known, wearing a white Nike t-shirt with black lettering and Levi jeans. In one hand, he carried a bouquet of red roses. In his other arm, was what appeared to be another box of flowers.

Karisma eyed the flowers cautiously. “Who are those from?” she asked Wolfe, immediately thinking they were probably a peace offering from Ray.

“The ones in the box are from Paolo Montovani. Was that the slick Italian lookin’ dude from last night?” he asked.

Karisma knew full well that Wolfe knew exactly who Paolo was, but played dumb along with him. “What slick Italian looking dude from last night?” she asked with an angelic smile. Then she stared at him all wide-eyed and innocent.

Stella laughed out loud and said, “The one you lookin’ at on da computer!” to which Karisma rolled her eyes.

“You know who I’m talkin about. You ain’t forgot him yet,” Wolfe said.

She reached for the box. Wolfe handed it over and she opened it, instantly drawn to the fragrant, long stemmed yellow roses. They reminded Karisma of her mother’s perfume, Serge Lutens Sa Majeste La Rose, a scent she always associated with love and happiness.

“Hmm, these smell sooo good.” Looking at Wolfe now, she teased, “
He
 smelled good last night, too.” Then she grinned. 

“Yeah okay, he smelled good. Gettin all up on him like that.”

“We got close, but not…too …close. We’re having lunch today at La Mia Calabria at 1:00.”

“Say what? Business with him, huh?”

“Please. Stop fishing. Be ready to roll out at 12:30. That freeway’s probably a bitch.” She rose to leave the kitchen. Then she added, “Who’s the other one from?”

He said, “This one looks shady. It says,
I love you
. Think it might be from The Alleged Asshole?”

“I love you? Sounds like it, but I sure hope not. I was nice to his ass last night. Thank goodness you interrupted our conversation before he could start talking about 
us
.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Stella, can you put these in water?” She handed the bouquet and box to her.

Stella took them and sniffed. “So you’re seein’ the Italian Stallion today, huh?” Wolfe said.

“Italian Stallion. That’s cute.” Kari smirked at him.

“Beautiful roses. He likes pretty tings, Kari. You a pretty ting. Just like him. Be careful,” Stella said, doing that eyebrow thing again as she walked out of the kitchen.

“Okay, you both need to shut up. I’m gonna go get dressed.”

                                           ***

It was a warm day for late February, even for LA. Clouds were absent in the brilliant indigo sky, having been blown to heaven by a gypsy wind. The drive was pleasant enough, scenic, as usual, but those dancing butterflies that insisted on performing in Karisma’s stomach distracted from the view. And even though there were at least four carloads full of paparazzi following them, it was uneventful. It was lunchtime, and Sunset Boulevard was busy, as crowds of people hurried into and out of one establishment or another. They neared La Mia Calabria and Karisma could see the sign above the building. It stood in the middle of the block, as one of the eateries between the Roxy Theatre and The Whiskey A Go Go, both trendy, upscale places frequented by Hollywood A-listers and up-and-coming artists alike.

As the car pulled up, Wolfe parked in front of the restaurant. Karisma felt the anticipation welling up inside of her. As usual, the paparazzi pulled to the curb right behind him. “They were well behaved on the drive over,” Karisma commented.

“Yeah, but you know the game. Their asses are gonna jump out in a second and when they do, we go around the back. You got homeboy’s number? Can you let him know we’re out front?”

“I don’t have it. Shit, here they come,” she said. A few seconds later she heard the familiar 
click click
 of cameras and turned her face from the flashing lights. The flashing was dimmed somewhat by the dark tint of the windows and she doubted they could see her yet, they were just assuming she was in there.

“Stupid asses!” Wolfe grunted. “Can’t see shit in here, but here they are, snappin’ at the fucking car!”

“Just grab that guy there and tell him to let Paolo know we’re here.” She motioned to the waiter standing in the doorway, who was watching the car with a slightly anxious expression.

“Lock it, Kari,” he told her as he bolted from the car. 

She nodded from the back seat of her steel grey Bentley Continental and watched Wolfe take control of the situation. He said something to the waiter and the man turned around and went inside.

Karisma watched as the photographers boldly approached Wolfe. She could hear one shouting from outside the vehicle.
“Where’s Karisma?”

“She ain’t in my pocket, fool!” Wolfe said, as his deep baritone boomed in the air.

“Is she in the car?”
another one asked as they continued to snap away.

Ridiculous,
 Karisma thought. How exciting could eating lunch be for these guys to hound her that way?

Wolfe approached the luxury vehicle, with hands shoved deeply into his pockets. He was physically larger than all of the photographers standing around the car. It made for quite the scene and before long, people walking down the street slowed down to do double takes and figure things out. As typical, some even pulled out their cell phones in hopes of getting a picture of whatever celebrity would emerge from the Bentley.

“Hey!” Wolfe roared, all patience gone, “what the fuck y’all doin on my car? Get the fuck off before you scratch my paint! Back ya asses up!”

The waiter returned and cautiously tapped Wolfe’s bulging bicep and whispered something. “Y’all fools need to move,” he called out none too kindly to the paparazzi. He reached for the door handle and one of the photographers stepped forward, too aggressively for Wolfe’s liking.

Karisma was just as shocked after all these years about the attention as she was when she first “arrived on the scene.”

Wolfe unlocked the door and opened it, slipping into the driver’s seat. “They want us to come around the back.”

“They’ll just follow us,” Kari said. She knew the game and Wolfe did, too. He shook his head and put the car into drive, making his way to the back of the restaurant. Everyone ran behind the car, eagerly following them.

As soon as they pulled to the driveway, they were met by ten men fanned out in the shape of a horseshoe. They were all sharply dressed in Italian suits and looked to be businessmen, not security. When the car drew near, the men standing in the middle moved to the side to allow it through and then quickly walked toward the parking lot entrance.

“What the hell?” Karisma asked, unable to hide her astonishment. One of the men pointed to an open spot next to a black Porsche, indicating Wolfe should park there. There were several other cars parked there, too; luxury cars such as a white Ferrari, two silver Range Rovers, a black Mercedes S class, and a little red Corvette.

“We’ll see what’s up,” Wolfe said to her.

Kari turned around and saw that the paparazzi were met in the driveway to the back parking lot by the well-dressed men…and they were not passing. As she turned back around, shaking her head, a brown haired man that looked to be in his late thirties approached Karisma’s door. Wolfe unlocked it and the man pulled on the handle, opening it and offering his hand.

The man introduced himself as Karisma took his hand. “Miss Montgomery, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Aaron Andretti, and I work for Mr. Montovani.”

Karisma got out of the car and he grabbed her hand, kissing it softly.
Gotta love the Italian style,
Karisma thought. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Andretti. This is my driver, Wolfe.” Then she turned around and pointed to him.

“Wolfe,” Aaron said, smiling at him, and shaking his hand. “Why don’t you come in. Your car will be safe here. This way, please,” Aaron said, putting out his hand in gesture for them to follow.

Wolfe stopped him. “What’s security like inside?” he asked Aaron, looking around at the men who were still ushering the press from the property. One in particular was swearing, and loudly threatening to do them bodily harm.

Karisma watched the mayhem, wondering if the nicely dressed men were Mafia hitmen or something like that. It all seemed so cliché, but intriguing.

“She is safe here, Mr. Wolfe. No autograph seekers or paparazzi will be allowed near her, I can assure you. I will be escorting her to Mr. Montovani’s private dining room myself.”

“I appreciate that, I really do, but Wolfe goes everywhere with me,” Karisma interjected, grabbing Wolfe’s arm and linking hers through it. “He won’t mind hanging around,” she said.