Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Valentina
R oberto and I double-checked the reservation list one more time. The day had flown by and we were three hours from the reopening. “I still can’t believe it,” I said. “We’re completely booked all weekend. Not an open table to be found.”
“Why are you surprised, signorina? This is the most exciting thing to happen in this town since Bev added pumpkin spice lattes to the menu.”
My head snapped up as I laughed in surprise. “You are turning into a real local, Roberto.”
He shrugged. “I like it here. And I like flirting with Bev.”
“So I’ve gathered.” Roberto visited the Leaning Tower of Pastries daily, even after the trattoria’s espresso machine was installed. “And everything is ready?”
“Of course, signorina. You don’t need to worry. We have this covered.”
“Okay.” I blew out a long breath. “Will you get Giovanni? I want to talk to you both before we get too busy this afternoon. ”
“Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s all good, I promise. Meet me in the alcove in the back, okay?”
Roberto strode to the kitchen and disappeared. I went to the server station, where I’d hidden a bottle of champagne earlier. Taking three flutes, I filled them as I waited for the men. It wasn’t long. The sleeves on Giovanni’s chef coat were rolled up to show off his tattoos, and his face was etched with his usual scowl. Roberto walked behind him, and soon they were crowding into the small alcove with me.
“I’ll make it quick.” I handed both of them glasses of champagne. Then I lifted mine for a toast. “I don’t know how Luca managed to get both of you here, but I’m so, so grateful that he did. I never could’ve done this on my own. Roberto, you’ve transformed this stuck-in-the-past relic into something chic and modern. And Giovanni, you’re a genius with flavors. You’ve designed a menu that will amaze and impress, but will still have a familiar feel to the locals. Whatever happens after tonight, I want you both to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done.” My voice cracked as emotion clogged my throat. “You feel like family.”
“Do not cry, signorina.” Roberto pulled me in for a one-arm hug. “You will ruin your makeup.”
“And look like a raccoon on opening night,” Giovanni added, patting my shoulder.
I chuckled and my mood instantly lightened. “Thanks, guys. I pour my heart out and you’re worried about how I look.”
“Aww, you’re beautiful.” Roberto kissed the side of my head. “It’s obvious how much you care about this place and your family’s legacy. They would be so proud of you, signorina.”
My chest tightened again and the urge to cry returned. Giovanni must’ve seen it on my face, because he quickly added, “I still do not think we need the chicken parmigiana.”
That got me to laugh. “You will never win that fight, sir.” I lifted my glass. “To the new Trattoria Rustica.”
They touched their flutes to mine. “ Cin cin ,” they each said, and I repeated the toast as well.
We drank and Giovanni returned to the kitchen. Roberto said, “Come with me. I want to talk about some of the guests.”
“Sure. Let me clean this up first.” I took the champagne and empty glasses to the bar. I handed them to Gabriele, who looked incredibly hot in his crisp white shirt and black tie. Even though he wasn’t twenty-one, Gabriele had produced an Italian birth certificate claiming he was of age. Roberto had argued it was best to let Luca’s son do as he pleased.
Just like his father, I was coming to find out.
“Thanks, Gabi,” I said when he took everything from my hands.
“You are welcome,” he replied, exaggerating the enunciation. “How does my fancy English sound?”
“Like the ladies are going to die over your accent. Don’t worry, they’ll be throwing money at you right and left.”
“I don’t need money, bella. But I will take phone numbers.”
“Oh, god.” It became clear why Gabi wanted to work here. “Do not hit on my customers.”
Gabi lifted up his hands and adopted an adorable mischievous expression. Though he looked like Luca, they were complete opposites in personality. “I promise I won’t, but I can’t help it if they hit on me.”
And they would, too. “I’m glad you’re here, Gabi.”
“Me too.” He grew serious and put his hands on the bar, leaning closer. “And I apologize for this morning. I was out of line.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Pausing, I decided to fish for information. “Was your father mad at you about it?”
Gabi grunted and rolled his shoulder. “That is one way of putting it.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” He waved his hand. “But I’ve never seen him so mad over a woman before. He is making me move into the pool house.”
“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have slept over. ”
“No, no. You don’t understand. My father has never allowed a woman to sleep over before. Not once. It is a big deal.”
My toes curled inside my heels as my stomach dipped. “Never?” I croaked.
“Never. He didn’t try to hide his mistresses, of course, but he didn’t bring them to the house. And he didn’t move them in. Capisce?”
I nodded like I understood, but I really didn’t. Luca didn’t bring women home? That didn’t make sense. He’d practically moved me in after one night together. “I’m not his mistress,” I mumbled.
“True.” Gabi didn’t look up from where he was slicing limes. “You’re his girlfriend.”
I gripped the edge of the bar as the words echoed in my head. Girlfriend? Really? Did that mean Luca was my boyfriend?
“Signorina!” Roberto called from across the room.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I left the bar and went to the reservation desk. Roberto took in my face. “What’s wrong? Why are you so pale?”
“It’s nothing. Who did you want to talk about?”
Roberto asked me questions about some of the reservations, townspeople he didn’t know, and we discussed who needed VIP treatment. I pointed to the mayor’s reservation. “You saw this, right? He won’t pay, but we should treat him well.”
“He will pay,” Roberto said. “No one gets a free meal here.”
“But the mayor?—”
“Will pay his bill, signorina. Don’t worry. Now, this person here.” Roberto gestured to a name I didn’t know. “He is a food influencer with over a million followers.”
“What? Oh, my god. How did he find out about us?”
“The new social media account.” Roberto had started it a few days ago, mostly posting pictures of Giovanni and his food, and we had over twenty thousand followers.
“Should I say hi? Bring him a free drink?”
“I’ll take care of that. You should enjoy yourself this evening. Leave the little things to me, including this person.” He pointed to another name. “This is a food critic from the Times. ”
I felt dizzy, so I grabbed the wooden stand. “The Times, as in The New York Times ?”
“Sì, signorina.”
“What the fuck? On opening night?”
“They generally come more than once before writing the review, so don’t worry.”
Strangely, this did not make me feel better. “Does Giovanni know all this?”
“Yes, he does. I’ll remind him and the waitstaff as the tables are seated, however.”
I placed a hand on my stomach, hoping to settle it down. “Okay. Any other news I should know?”
“Mr. DiMarco has requested a table with you at nine-thirty. I blocked it here,” he said and tapped a reservation marked with the initials LDVM.
“You know his name isn’t DiMarco,” I said quietly. Roberto was well aware of Luca’s identity and profession.
“True, but appearances are important. Especially in a small town such as this.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, suddenly nervous. Roberto had become like an uncle to me since we started working together. I respected his opinion and trusted his guidance. He was very smart and good with people. So I needed to ask. “Do you think I’m crazy for getting involved with him?”
He placed his forearm on the stand and met my gaze. “He will not hurt you, if that is what you’re asking.”
“That isn’t what I mean. I’m not worried he’ll hurt me physically. I’m worried about everything else. He’s a lot older than me—and not exactly on the right side of the law.”
“I think,” Roberto said after a beat, “that life is short and you should do what makes you happy. But you must remember a tiger is still a tiger, no matter where he resides. ”
“And Luca is a tiger.”
“Sì, and he will never change. And his life is there, not here.”
Which was fine. Whatever was going on between us was temporary. A hot, yet brief, fling. Because when Luca’s business in New York concluded, he’d head back to Italy and we would never see each other again. The idea sat like a stone in my throat, but I needed to go into this with my eyes wide open, just as Gia had warned.
“No one has taken care of me in a long time.”
“I know. Which is why I want to do it. No one is more deserving than you.”
Ugh. If only he weren’t so damn sweet. But I couldn’t allow myself to fall for him. No matter what else happened, I had to guard my heart around him because he’d break it without thinking twice.
I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Thanks, Roberto. You’re pretty wise.”
“Many years of experience, signorina. I hope you avoid some of the bad choices I made along the way.”
This was new. He hadn’t opened up about his past before, despite my repeated attempts to get information out of him. “Like?”
“No, those are conversations for another day. We’ll sit down with a bottle of wine and I’ll tell you all my dark secrets.”
“I’m holding you to that promise. Though I think one of them is how you secretly like Maggie’s red table wine.”
He made a sound in his throat that resembled a scoff. “That is definitely not one of my secrets.”
Two lines on the phone lit up at the same time. “Time to go to work,” Roberto said.
I patted his shoulder. “I’ll take line two from the office.”
Luca
Bodies were packed tightly into the trattoria’s entrance. I had to squeeze past several couples to reach the hostess stand. When I did, I found a young woman there. “Buona sera,” I said. “I am?—”
“Mr. DiMarco. I know. I remember you from book club night.”
Ah, so a friend of Valentina’s. “I am here to have dinner with?—”
“Val, I know. Roberto has your table reserved. Follow me.”
The girl talked fast and clearly liked to finish sentences. I didn’t mind, if it got me closer to Valentina any quicker. I trailed the hostess through the dining room, which was full of diners and busy wait staff. A few people had their phones out, taking photos of Giovanni’s cuisine. Good. The more publicity for the trattoria, the better.
Wisely, Roberto had given me a table against the wall. It was my habit never to sit with my back to a crowded room, which was even more important with Segreto lurking around. My brothers were still searching for signs of the former underboss, as well as John Natale.
I lowered myself into a chair where I could see the entire dining room. “How is she doing?”
“Hovering like a nervous mother. It will be good to get her out of the kitchen and into a chair. While I tell her you’re here, what may we bring you to drink?”
“A bottle of the Ravazzani cirò, I think.”
“Good choice. And Giovanni is making something special for you both, so no menus.”
That was fine with me. I nodded my head and relaxed, taking in the room. Valentina and Roberto had outdone themselves. The trattoria was now much more mature and modern, simple, without all the cliché knick-knacks from before. It could be any upscale restaurant in Napoli or Roma. I was so fucking proud of her.
My son was behind the bar, pouring drinks and smiling at a bunch of young ladies. My father was very likely rolling over in his grave at the moment. A powerful heir to the Benetti kingdom, a bartender? But I liked knowing he was here. It gave me one more person looking out for Valentina.
A server came over and blocked my view of the bar as she presented the bottle of cirò. After I tasted the wine, she poured two glasses and left me alone. I was about to take out my mobile and ring Leo when the most gorgeous woman in the world came into view.
Valentina .
Madre di dio, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She came toward me, the heels making her long legs even longer, wearing that wrap dress that hugged every curve. Dark brown hair swirled around her shoulders in waves. She’d removed the sweater, showing off her olive skin, the mounds of her tits, and everything inside me clenched with protective instinct. It was like I needed to put my name on her forehead, claim her as mine.
Cazzo, this girl. I was in trouble.
Heads turned as she walked by. I couldn’t blame them. She was fucking beautiful.
I stood as she neared. Like we’d been together all our lives, she came right to me and tilted her face toward mine, letting me kiss her lips. “Hey, baby,” she whispered. “You look good tonight.”
I didn’t bother speaking in English, because I didn’t know enough words for what I needed to say. So I told her in my language what I was thinking and feeling inside, an outpouring of emotion I should’ve been embarrassed by. Except I wasn’t. It felt necessary to tell her, even if she couldn’t understand.
“Stop,” she said, smoothing my tie. “I didn’t understand that, but it sounded very sweet and I need to look professional tonight. I can’t melt into a puddle at your feet.”
I pulled out her chair. “Congratulations. The place is a success.”
“Tonight’s gone well.” She placed her napkin on her lap as I sat down. “A few snafus in the kitchen, but Giovanni has handled it all beautifully. And Roberto?” She blew out a breath. “He’s a genius. So smooth with people and anticipates their needs. I don’t know how you convinced both of them to come here, but I’m very grateful, Luca.”
A lot of money and my last name usually did the trick. “You are welcome, piccolina. Let’s toast. ”
We both raised our glasses. “To proper wine,” I said with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes, but laughed. “Still a wine snob. Fine, I’ll give a toast. To you, investor daddy. You helped me to see that I can be more, do more than just live in the past. I’ll always be thankful you walked in and insulted my restaurant.”
That nickname again. I should’ve been embarrassed by the way it affected me, the dirty thoughts my brain conjured up because of it. “Investor daddy?”
Shrugging, she touched her glass to mine. “You have to live with it. The nickname’s already stuck.”
Live with it? I could hardly think of anything else. I had a strong urge to drag her out of here, take her home, and fuck her all night long while hearing that word on her lips.
She started to drink, but I put a hand on her arm. “I haven’t given my toast yet.”
“Oh, you have a real one? Let’s hear it.”
I held her gaze steadily as I leaned in with my glass raised. “It has been my honor and privilege to watch you bloom, fiore mio. Thank you for trusting me. And no matter what happens in the future, know that I have enjoyed our time together more than any other time in my life.” I lifted her hand and pressed my lips to the back of it. “I am drowning in you, Valentina.”
Her eyes grew glassy, moisture pooling at the edges. “Oh, god. Luca. You . . .” She dabbed at her eyelids with her fingers. “You can’t say things like that when I can’t kiss you.”
“Come here.” I tugged her closer and pressed my lips to hers. It was chaste in comparison to how I usually kissed her, but I hoped she could feel the truth, the honesty behind my feelings for her. And I didn’t care who saw.
“Wow,” she whispered when we parted, her fingers clutching my forearm on the table. “If we haven’t started a scandal in town before tonight, that kiss definitely did it.”
“Who cares what anyone thinks? Don’t let other people hold you back, amore mio. ”
She bit her lip and straightened, settling in her chair. “Easy for you to say. You’ll leave here soon and I’ll just be the girl who once dated a handsome older Italian man.”
I frowned. I didn’t like the idea of that. The next words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Or maybe you’ll be the girl living in Catanzaro who used to own a restaurant in New York.”
“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.” She adjusted her napkin on her lap and avoided my stare. “Stop talking crazy.”
Was it crazy?
You should keep her.
Aldo’s words ricocheted through my brain for the hundredth time. The more I considered it, the more I came to like the idea. What was holding her here? This restaurant? That wasn’t a good enough reason to live here in my opinion. And I wasn’t finished with whatever this was between us. “You will like Catanzaro. It’s known as Città tra due Mari , city of the two seas. I have a private villa on the water?—”
“Luca! I’m not leaving Paesano.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the lines across her brow deepening. “But I don’t know, maybe I could come visit sometime.”
I didn’t want to argue with her, not tonight. So I dropped the subject . . . temporarily. But I wasn’t interested in a long-distance relationship. My schedule was too chaotic, too demanding for that. I needed someone available at a moment’s notice. Not to mention that anyone in my life needed protection, even a mistress. Flying back and forth, living here alone, would only put her at risk. “We’ll see,” I said vaguely.
The dishes began arriving then, little bites for us to try. Oysters, beef tartare, fried anchovies. Each plate was beautifully arranged, a small mouthful packed with flavor. Better than the food, though, was watching Valentina eat. I loved how much she enjoyed food, the little noises of pleasure she made. The way she licked her lips . . . I could stare at her all night. “You tried these before the opening, no?”
“Some of it, yes. But once I realized how talented Giovanni was, I basically stayed out of his way.” She reached over and stole my plate containing a scallop topped with prosciutto foam. “This is my favorite, though, so I’m stealing it. Sorry, not sorry.” She ate the scallop in one bite, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head as she chewed.
“I like seeing you enjoy it.” I sipped my wine, studying her mouth. “It makes me think of what I’m going to do to you later.”
A flush spread over her cheeks, but she shook her head. “Don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know when I’ll be finished, but it’ll probably be late.”
“Wrong. You’re leaving with me after dinner. Roberto can finish up.”
Her lips parted as her brows came together dangerously. “I’m not leaving early. It’s not fair to the staff.”
“Valentina,” I said seriously. “You have to learn how to be the boss. Treat your people well, but in the end they work for you. And if you can’t trust them to handle things in your absence, then you haven’t hired the right people.”
“I suppose next you’ll tell me that I make the rules.”
“At the restaurant, yes.” Leaning over, I brushed my fingertips over the shell over her ear. I was pleased to see her shiver. “But with me? No.”
“God, you’re so predictable.” She pushed her empty plate away. “Speaking of Catanzaro, how much longer do you think you’ll be in the States?”
“Not much longer, I imagine.”
“Oh.” She looked down at her lap and adjusted her napkin carefully. “That’s too bad. Your brothers seem nice.”
I was still pissed at Sergio for the way he spoke to me this morning. Our interactions today had been terse and angry, especially when our efforts to quickly locate Segreto failed. “They can be, yes.”
“Which one are you closest to?”
“Sergio. We are the two oldest and he is my advisor when required. ”
“And what did he advise you about me?”
I slid her a glance, surprised. “Why do you think he said something?”
“Because I’m practically half your age and you’ve moved me into your house with all of them. I don’t have a brother, but it seems like this might be something worth discussing, considering who you are.”
She was very smart, my woman. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks, Valentina. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Well, I do. And I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your family. So I’ll sleep at home for the next few nights.”
“No, you won’t. You don’t need to worry about my brothers or my son.”
“Gabi said you made him move out to the pool house.”
Ah, so they’d been talking today. “What else did my son tell you?”
“He says that I’m your girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? I paused, my mind tripping over the word. In all my life I’d never had a girlfriend. Mistress, yes—there had been plenty of those. But no woman I shared emotional ties with. I was currently obsessed with Valentina . . . but that would soon fade, no?
Silence descended and I played with the stem of my wine glass. I couldn’t tell from her expression what reaction she was hoping for from me. Did she like the idea? Was she hoping I agreed? “And what did you say?”
“Nothing. It caught me off guard. I think I was too freaked out to respond.”
“The idea upsets you?”
“It’s pretty overwhelming. I mean, I’ve never had a boyfriend before, so I didn’t know what to expect. But I wouldn’t ever have imagined one like you.”
“Older?”
She nodded. “And Italian. And a man with a very dangerous job.”
I leaned closer and put my free hand on her thigh. “Normal jobs are boring. And Italian men are handsome and well dressed. We like good food and good wine. And I’m very rich, well-endowed. What’s not to love, piccolina?”
Chuckling, she reached over and caressed my jaw with soft, gentle fingers. “Let’s not forget arrogant.”
A throat cleared, catching our attention. I eased back in my chair but didn’t remove my hand from her leg. Our server was there, two plates in her hands. “I apologize, but I have your next course.”
“That’s fine, Lizzie,” Valentina told the girl. “We’re ready.”
Two plates were set before us, and conversations about our relationship were quickly forgotten.