Page 49

She looks at the machine, then back at me in my flip-flops and messy bun.

And I think it’s obvious I’m lying.

"Of course," she says, without a flicker of judgment. "It's a great machine. Very popular."

My gaze drifts to Dante across the room, and she notices. Her smile softens into playful conspiracy.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Di Zaro." She lowers her voice. "He's a hottie, isn’t he. Unfortunately, he's married."

"Yeah," I say. "I know."

I hold up my left hand, and my platinum wedding band catches the light.

Her eyes go wide when she sees it, then even wider when she realizes who I am.

"Oh my God," she breathes. "You’re Mrs. Di Zaro."

"Guilty."

Her professionalism snaps back into place. "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have called him a hottie; I don’t know what I was thinking."

"Why?" My eyes slide to Dante across the room. He's moved to the bar now and is leaning against the onyx counter, listening to a man in a gray suit. "You weren't lying. He is a hottie."

She lets out a startled laugh, then slaps her hand over her mouth. I can’t help it, I chuckle because I like her immediately.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asks, recovering fast. "Or I can escort you to the VIP lounge; it's really gorgeous up there."

I keep my eyes trained on my husband and shake my head.

"What's he like?" I ask. "As a boss?"

She thinks for a moment, then says, "One of the best. He’s demanding, but fair. He knows everyone's name. He doesn't yell, but he doesn't need to. You just..." She shrugs. "You don't want to disappoint him."

"Does anyone?"

"Not twice."

I can imagine.

She leans closer and whispers, "He fired a floor manager once for making a cocktail waitress cry. Fired him right there on the spot. Made him shake in his boots without even raising his voice."

I stare at her. "He did?"

“It was kind of hot,” she says, then realizes what she’s said. “Oh my goodness … I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.”

I laugh. “Don’t apologize, please. Talking with you has made my day. Thank you.”

She gives me a relieved smile.

I look back across the floor at my husband. He's still at the bar. The man in the gray suit is laughing at something he said.

Who would’ve thought my infuriatingly bossy husband would be a decent boss, or one with a sense of humor? Because the man in the gray suit is laughing again.

"I should go," I say, feeling suddenly tired from the wine.

"Of course." She gives me that warm smile again. "It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Di Zaro."

"Sunny."