Page 36 of Dante

“Wow. Sounds like Tuesday night will be quite fancy.”

“Not exactly. But as Mrs. Ricci, you must be dressed in the appropriate manner.”

I stop myself from asking what that manner might be. I’m already getting the idea.

Seeing that I’m visibly upset, Dante reaches over for a bowl and spoon from the counter. He pours some cereal and peers down to examine it like a scientist.

“What’s that shape? With a name like Cap’n Crunch, I’d expect miniature treasure chests from some high-seas heist. This looks like a rum barrel.”

My shoulders release in relief. He’s trying to make up with his outburst. Success! He’s back to being the gorgeous Dante, rather than grumpy Don Ricci. “I never could figure that one out,” I tell him.

When he turns his attention back to his phone, I push my cereal bowl aside and take out my sketchpad.

Last night, he promised to think about the restaurant his brothers and I want him to purchase. But how long will he take?

Once someone sees the potential in that space, it will be off the market and out of our hands. While Lorenzo and Luca are crunching the numbers, I might as well make a sketch of the whimsical caricatures for the walls.

“What’s that on your sketchpad?” Dante says, briefly looking over as I work.

I slide the sketch across the table, feeling a twinge of nervousness as my fingertips leave the paper. There’s nothing much on it right now, just the outline of what will be five chefs.

“It’s just a doodle,” I say, trying to sound casual. Dante’s response will make or break the concept I’m hoping for.

But before I can explain my plans for the design, his phone rings and he turns away to answer the call.

Once he gets off the phone, Dante turns to me. “It’s the first sunny day all week. I propose we celebrate with a stroll in the park. Be ready in twenty minutes.”

CHAPTER 13

GINA

Ipop into the living room with just seconds to spare. “I’m ready!” The words tumble out of my mouth as I catch my breath.

Dante stands by the door, looking like he stepped out of a fashion magazine. His coat hugs his broad shoulders perfectly—dark charcoal wool with subtle black buttons.

And he’s wearing a winter hat that somehow makes him look sophisticated, not silly.

“A windbreaker?” he asks, looking me over. “And where’s your hat? Where are your mittens?”

“I’ve never had a winter coat. I’m from California, remember? I don’t even know what mittens are.”

“Well, you can wear one of my coats,” he says, digging around in the closet until he finds something he likes.

He pulls out a navy blue peacoat with big round buttons and holds it up for me.

When I slip it on, the sleeves hang past my fingertips and the bottom reaches mid-thigh. But the weight of it feels instantly comforting. The soft wool smells familiar, like cedar.

We’re still indoors but I pull it tighter around me, enjoying the way his coat makes me feel protected and small at the same time.

“Antoine will see you’re equipped for the winter season tomorrow.”

We take the elevator downstairs and head outdoors.

“Voila, Central Park,” says Dante, guiding me out of the luxurious marble lobby and extending his hand to the expansive park across the street.

The wind picks up and nearly takes my breath for a moment.

“Thanks for the coat. It’s freezing,” I tell him with a smile. Though I must look ridiculous in his oversized coat.