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Monica answered. “Get one of the chocolate martinis. They are delicious.”
“I’ll take that,” Audra said.
“I’ll have a beer. Corona,” Bruno said.
“Anything for you, Monica?” the waitress asked.
“Not right now. I’m good.”
The young woman disappeared.
“What’s the latest on the licensing deal? Have you made much progress?” Audra asked.
Bruno had earned nineteen Michelin stars across his restaurants, but he hardly cooked anymore. He took a step back recently to become more involved in Santana Foods, the company he’d built over the years. A manufacturer out of Pennsylvania had asked him to lend his name to a line of spices, sauces, dressings, and marinades to be sold in grocery stores across the country.
Besides adding to his bottom line, the deal could put him in the coveted position of the wealthiest chef in the world. He’d held the position before but had been overtaken several years ago by Alan Wong, who at one time had been a personal chef to President Obama and was currently the richest chef in the world.
He and Bruno had been in a good-natured rivalry since then, and this new line should help him surpass the Japanese-born chef.
While excited about the opportunity, this particular venture had been in the works for over a year because of his strict requirements for only using the best ingredients. Which meant he needed to know where the herbs and vegetables for the line were sourced. There had also been other problems along the way which had caused delays. Executive turnover at the manufacturer, and he refused to compromise on his vision for the line.
“We’re working on the details,” Bruno answered.
“I’m sure you’ll get them straightened out. What’s the plan if you can’t get Post-Praft Foods to accept your terms?”
“Then we look elsewhere. I refuse to compromise on the quality of my products.”
The server returned with their drinks, and Bruno sipped his beer as he continued the conversation with his sisters. While they talked, Damon joined them in the VIP. Chocolate-skinned with a bearded jawline and diamond studs in his ears, he had parlayed his good looks and athletic physique into a post-baseball modeling career.
“Damn, this is nice. Great crowd,” he said to Monica, as he slipped an arm around Audra.
“Thanks. NV is getting more and more popular, and a lot of people who used to go to Midnight Lounge come here now.”
Midnight Lounge was the establishment Andre previously worked for before he had a falling out with the owner.
Bruno’s eyes swept the crowd below, and his gaze landed on a woman who’d just entered. He couldn’t see her face because her thick, shoulder length hair hid her features, but he fixed with laser-like precision on the ripeness of her shape in a shimmery gold top. All hips, breasts, and ass. She moved through the crowd as if searching for someone.
He sipped his beer. He was looking for a wife, but in the meantime, maybe this lovely creature could?—
Dropping out of the conversation with his family, he leaned forward on the steel railing and zeroed in on the person below.
Was that…?
Yes, it was. Marissa Liburd.
He felt a warm tug in his gut, right below his navel.
She looked different from when he saw her yesterday. Yesterday she had been buttoned up in a long-sleeved blouse with glasses and her hair in a bun. Tonight, she wore a shimmery gold sleeveless top, the cowl neck dipping in a provocative way over her breasts. No glasses, and her hair was loose and parted on the side, hiding part of her face. Large gold hoops peeked between the strands. Quite a difference from the day before.
“Earth to Bruno.” Monica snapped her fingers in front of his face. “What has you so distracted?” She looked in the same direction.
“I see someone I know.”
“Who?”
Marissa slipped between the sea of bodies, and his eyes followed her. As she looked around, he once again got the impression that she was searching for someone.
He’d go down there and say hi.
