𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

3

on wednesday morning, giovanni hopped on the subway at intervale avenue and got off at 50th street. he walked to the address in hell's kitchen that mr ricci had given him, his hands clammy and his heartbeat speeding up with every second that passed.

as promised, he was dressed in his very best attire: a suit that he had had to borrow from dmitri, as they shared the same size. it was a black and dark grey pinstripe suit, a white linen dress shirt underneath. he wore a silky tie tucked into his suit jacket and black brogues on his feet. he felt very confident about how he looked this morning — a few heads even turned as he strode down the street, which was something that had never happened to him before. despite this, he was still on edge for his interview at the royale.

he showed up several minutes early and stressfully smoked two cigarettes while he waited under a tree outside. the royale had two floors and took up a very large area on west 47th street. he checked his watch. as the time struck dead on 9am, benjamin ricci pulled up onto the curb in a sleek black porsche, the spring sunlight glistening on its bonnet. he climbed out, dressed in the same businesslike suit giovanni had seen him in yesterday.

benjamin smiled as he walked toward him. he took his sunglasses off. "hey, kid. sorry to keep you waiting."

giovanni shook his hand. "oh, don't worry. i came here quite early."

"eager, huh?" benjamin laughed. "by the way, you can just call me benny or mr ricci — whichever suits you. c'mon, i'll show you around."

he fished a key from out of his pocket and opened the dark purple shutter, lifting it up with a small groan.

giovanni stepped toward him. "here, let me help—"

"oh, no, it's alright. i may be getting old but i'm used to doing this," benny replied, putting a different key in the glass door of the restaurant.

they stepped inside and giovanni's breath was snatched from his body. he looked around the space with astonishment — the restaurant's interior was incredibly rich. the floor was marble white, and extraordinary crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, catching the gold light from outside just right. the seats had white frames and legs, backed by crinkled brown velvet, surrounding the tables which were covered in white linen cloths, all of different sizes: some could seat two people while others could seat families of eight. toward the back of the restaurant there was a big bar area, which giovanni thought looked similar to the one he had seen in the bullseye. it had the same thin mirror at the back and many colourful, orderly drinks display, however, the alcohol here was clearly not cheap. expensive bottles of champagne, cognac, hennessey, don julio and bombay gin lined the wall. the bar was crafted out of a smooth white marble, and had a long and very thin violet cloth spread on the surface, as well as beer mats and tiny tissue stands. the stools below were topped with plush cushions. on the walls, there were gorgeous expressionistic paintings of views over new york and some of paris — from this, giovanni guessed that edward lavigne was a frenchman. sunlight lit up the space from the wide windows that looked onto the street. there was a big fireplace near the other entrance doors at the far end of the room, as well as a different set of double doors that lead inside the kitchen.

"this is the restaurant area," benny began, treading around the space. "it gets busy at around 5pm and starts to die down at 9. we close early at 6pm on fridays and saturdays, because that's when we open the club upstairs."

giovanni nodded slowly. "it's beautiful," he said, staring up at the sparkling chandeliers.

"yes, very beautiful," benny agreed. "ed's spent fortunes on this place."

giovanni followed benny as he walked behind the bar. under the counter, there were fridges stocked with all kinds of ciders, beers, wines, and sodas inside.