Chapter 19
I snap out of my reverie when Giuseppe yells at me for almost setting fire to the cloth in my hand.
I’ve been trying to keep myself as busy as possible, helping in the kitchen, with administration, and sometimes even at the reception desk of my restaurants.
That’s why I split my time between Venice and Rome.
“You idiot, you want to set fire to la mia cucina?” the bastard yells at me in Italian. I admit he’s the only one who can get away with that. “Get the hell out of here. Go on. I just want to know which ragazza left you like this.”
“There’s no woman. I’m just tired, working too much.”
“Then go home and rest. I don’t need anyone getting in my way here.”
“I’d like to know who the owner is here.”
He doesn’t respond. I decide to leave, taking off my chef’s jacket and toque before heading out through the back where I came in earlier.
I get in my car and drive away. When I get home, I throw myself on the couch and feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.
Who could be calling me at this hour? I look at the screen and see Owen Blake’s name.
“What do you want?”
“I admire your manners toward your friends.” I hear a sarcastic laugh on the other end of the line. “What are you doing? Get ready—you’re coming somewhere with me.”
“This again? I’m not in the mood to go out.”
“But I need someone, and today it’s going to be you.”
“It’s always me, right? That’s what you meant to say.”
“Stop complaining. I’ll be downstairs in half an hour.”
He hangs up. I stare at my phone. I wasn’t in the mood to go out, but how can I say no to my good friend who’s helped me so many times with my restaurants, getting paperwork pushed through faster?
Owen is a renowned and highly respected judge.
I met him when I lived in New York—he attended the same college as me, graduated with honors, and got married soon after.
I’m almost ready when my phone vibrates and I see a message on the screen.
“I’m already here in front of your building. Don’t take long, lady”
Always with his caustic humor, which I hate. But despite everything, he’s my friend. I finish putting on my shirt and head out. Let’s see where he’s taking me today.
“Where are we going now?” I’m in Owen’s car, headed who knows where.
“A new bar that just opened. I can’t keep going to the same ones all the time.”
“You need to find a regular place to meet. You can’t keep switching bars like this.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that? But where? I can’t do it at my house. Every possible spot has already been ruled out.”
“And now all the bars in Rome. Why don’t you give this up? Don’t you think it’s past time to move on?”
“I can’t. Not yet. I feel like I should keep pushing on this, at least for a while longer.”
“And how long do you think you can keep this up? What if they catch you someday?”
“That's not going to happen. We're here—oh, and the next meeting will be at your restaurant, just because you complained the whole way.”
“Forget it. I have a reputation to protect. I'm not getting involved in your crazy schemes.”
“I'll remember that next time you need a document.”
Owen knows how to get under my skin. I follow him, and a security guard escorts us to the VIP area.
Once there, I see the same man as always, sitting at a table in the corner.
I stop at the bar so they can talk in peace—I don't want to get mixed up in his problems, and he's got plenty.
When they finish, Owen's “friend” walks past me, nodding in greeting.
I don't return it. I head to the table, sit down, and set a glass of whiskey on it.
“So, how'd it go?”
“Same as always. Now we wait. Tell me, who is she?”
“Who?” There's no way he noticed—after all, we've been apart for a while. “There's no one.”
“You really think you can lie to me? You've changed a lot since you got back from New York.” My friend is sharp, I'll give him that—it's why he's the best and most relentless judge in all of Europe.
“I met her when I was there, but we never had anything serious.”
“Oh, sure, and you fell for her, got your heart broken—but honestly, with that attitude of yours, who's going to want to stick around?”
“Yours isn't exactly pleasant either. You're lucky you still have someone who puts up with you—namely, me.”
I told him everything about Emma—how she's a fiery little redhead, a force of nature.
We stayed there for hours catching up; we had a lot of ground to cover.
He told me how things were going with his “problem,” and soon after, we left with the promise that I'd let him have our next meeting at my restaurant.
Owen is a lonely man, and I felt the same way.
We only thought about work and barely saw each other, but we'd always been close friends and got together whenever we could.
Finally, we headed out. I got home, went straight to bed, and lay there with her on my mind.
I wonder if she's happy. The thought that she might be with someone else...
I shake my head, trying to snap out of it and get some sleep. I toss and turn for a few more hours until I finally pass out, but she's still there, haunting my dreams. This woman will never give me peace.