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Enzo
“Don’t look now. Three o’clock.”
Which is the one thing Hayden could have said to guarantee Idolook. That’s human nature for you. Or at least it’s my nature. Someone tells me not to do something, and you can guaran-damn-tee I’ll do it anyway. And worse, he knows it.
Even in the dimly lit restaurant, I can see Giovanna clearly, and our eyes meet because she’s staring straight at me.
“Shit,” I mutter, looking away. “She caught me looking. There’s no way she’s not coming over now.”
Hayden makes a sound that I can easily decipher after more than ten years of his antics. It’s somewhere in betweenbetter you than meandI’m going to thoroughly enjoy this.
“If I can’t navigate this,” I whisper as the restaurant owner’s daughter starts sidestepping through the tables to reach us, “say goodbye to Wednesday dinner. She’s getting more and more aggressive.”
Hayden’s drink pauses midair. Eyes narrowed, he waits to see if I’ll forgo diplomacy just for the sake of sticking it to him. It would serve him right for deliberately attracting the attention of the woman who’s been pursuing me for months.
But I’m no idiot—if I mess this up, we’ll lose out on the best Italian food in Tribeca.
“Evening, gentlemen.”
Regular patrons of Faustini’s are used to the owner’s daughter. But the two tourist couples sitting next to us openly stare at her. I don’t blame them. Giovanna Faustini is gorgeous in a way that turns heads, from her dark hair to her signature red lipstick. She’s a razor-sharp attorney who has nothing to do with her father’s business, yet she always seems to make an appearance on the one day a week Hayden and I frequent this small restaurant. It’s not a secret we eat here every Wednesday. When the press figured it out, we nearly had to find a new weekly dinner spot.
“Hi, G,” I say.
“Good evening, Miss Faustini. You’re looking lovely, as usual.” Hayden’s playing with fire, encouraging her with his tone. I warn him with a look, but he doesn’t take the hint.
“Congratulations on the Merrick settlement. Well done.”
Hayden hasn’t lost his touch with the ladies. He could charm the habit off a nun.
Giovanna smiles, but not at my friend.
She’s stunning. Smart. But nothing stirs in me as she flashes her pearly white teeth—a lovely contrast to her red lipstick. I could easily picture those lips wrapped around me, but still, nothing.
“Thank you.” She waves her hand as if such a high-profile victory were commonplace. The opposing counsel is considered the best in the business, his track record, off the charts. “So, Enzo.”
Here it comes.
“I hear you’ve just been approved in Switzerland. You must be thrilled!”
It’s obvious the comment is addressed only to me, never mind the fact that my business partner sits across from me.
“Quite. Hayden’s going there in a few weeks for the launch.”
My tone clearly communicates that the conversation is over. Most people respond to that tone, but G, as she insists I call her, is a pit bull. She won’t be put off so easily.
“Maybe a celebration is in order?” she asks. “This weekend, perhaps?”
Hayden bites the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing.
Asshole.
I lift my wine, the beginning of a polite but firm dismissal. “Unfortunately, I’m out of town this weekend.”
“Oh? Somewhere good, I hope?” she says, dropping into an accent she sometimes pulls out like a pair of expensive shoes. She might be second-generation Italian, but G was born here, not in Italy.
“Home,” I say. “For the opening of my brother’s restaurant. Please give your father my compliments on the risotto. It’s especially good tonight.”
