Читать книгу The Playboy of Rome - Jennifer Faye - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

HOW DARE SHE question his prowess in the kitchen?

Dante stared down at a plate of pasta alla gricia, one of his favorite dishes. The fine balance of cured pork and pecorino romano gave the pasta a unique, tangy flavor. It was a dish he never grew tired of eating.

He proceeded to divvy the food between two plates. After all, he didn’t need that much to eat at this late hour. As he arranged the plates, he wondered why he was going to such bother. What was so special about this golden-haired beauty? And why did he feel a compulsion to prove himself where she was concerned?

It wasn’t as if he was ever going to see Lizzie again. Without his grandfather around to hold up his end of the agreement, she’d be catching the next plane back to New York. Still, before she left, he needed to prove his point. He’d taken some of his grandfather’s recipes and put his own twist on them. And the patrons loved them. This meal was sure not to disappoint the most discerning palate.

He strode back into the dining room and placed a plate in front of Lizzie. She gazed up at him with a wide-eyed blue gaze. Her mouth gaped as though she were about to say something, but no words came out.

He stared at her lush lips, painted with a shimmery pink frost. They looked perfectly ripe for a kiss. The urge grew stronger with each passing second. The breath hitched in his throat.

“This looks delicious.” She was staring at him, not the food. And she was smiling.

“It’s an old family recipe.” He nearly tripped over his own feet as he moved to the other side of the table. “The secret to the dish is to keep it simple and not be tempted to add extras. You don’t want to detract from the flavor of the meat and cheese.”

He couldn’t believe he was letting her good looks and charms get to him. It wasn’t as if she was the first beautiful woman he’d entertained. But she was the first that he truly wanted to impress. Safely in his seat, he noticed the smallness of the table. If he wasn’t careful, his legs would brush against hers. If this were a casual date, he’d take advantage of the coziness, but Lizzie was different from the usual women he dated. She was more serious. More intent. And she seemed to have only one thing on her mind—business.

“Aren’t you going to try it?” Dante motioned to the food. Just because he wasn’t interested in helping her with her dreams of stardom didn’t mean he couldn’t prove his point—he could create magic in the kitchen.

He watched as she spun the pasta on her fork and slipped it in her mouth. He sat there captivated, waiting for her reaction. When she moaned her approval, his blood pressure spiked and his grip tightened on the fork.

“This is very good. Did you make it?”

Her question didn’t fool him. He knew what she was digging at—she wanted him to step up and fill in for his grandfather. Him on television—never. That was his grandfather’s dream—not his.

“It’s delicious.” She flashed him a big smile, seemingly unfazed by his tight-lipped expression.

Her smile gave him a strange feeling in his chest that shoved him off center. And that wasn’t good. He didn’t want to be vulnerable to a woman. He knew for a fact that romance would ultimately lead to disaster—one way or the other.

He forced himself to eat because he hadn’t had time to since that morning and his body must be starved. But he didn’t really have an appetite. In fact, the food tasted like cardboard. Thankfully Lizzie seemed impressed with it.

When she’d cleaned her plate, she pushed it aside. “Thank you. I can’t wait for you to teach me how to make it.”

Dante still had a couple of bites left on his plate when he set his fork down and moved the plate aside. “That isn’t going to happen.”

“Maybe you should at least consider it.”

Her gaze strayed to the contract that was still sitting in the middle of the table and then back to him. What was she implying? That she’d drag him through the courts?

That was the last thing he needed. He already had enough important issues on his mind, including fixing his relationship with his family. And the closer it got to putting his signature on the sale papers, the more unsettled he’d become about his decision.

“You can’t expect me to fulfill my grandfather’s agreement.”

“Why not?” She smiled as though it would melt his resistance. Maybe under different circumstances it would have worked, but not now.

“Because I don’t want to be on television. I didn’t like it when those camera people were here before. All they did was get in the way and create a circus of onlookers wanting to get their faces on television.”

He didn’t bother to mention that he was just days away from closing a deal to sell Ristorante Massimo. But it all hinged on those family recipes. And somehow parting with those felt treasonous. His grandfather had signed the entire business over to him to do as he pleased, but still he couldn’t make this caliber of decision on his own.

But how did he approach his grandfather? How did he tell him that he felt restless again and without Massimo in the kitchen, it just wasn’t the same? It was time he moved on to find something that pacified the uneasiness in him.

He’d been toying with the thought of returning to the vineyard and working alongside his father and brother. After all of this time, perhaps he and his father could call a truce—perhaps Dante could in some small way try to make up for the loss and unhappiness his father had endured in the years since Dante’s mother had died. But was that even possible considering their strained relationship?

“It isn’t me you have to worry about.” Lizzie’s voice drew him back to the here and now. She toyed with the cloth napkin. “The television people will want to enforce the contract. They’re already advertising the segment on their station. I saw it before I left New York. Granted, we won’t have a show of our own. But we will have a daily spot on the most popular show on their station.”

He’d forgotten that there was a third party to this agreement. A television conglomerate would not be easily deterred from enforcing their rights. “But what makes you think that they would want me instead of my grandfather?”

“I take it your grandfather truly didn’t mention any of this to you?”

Dante shook his head. A sick feeling churned in the pit of his stomach.

“That’s strange. When he brought your name up to the television people, I thought for sure he’d discussed it with you.” She shrugged. “Anyway, they are eager to have you included in the segments. They think you’ll appeal to the younger viewers.”

Dante leaned his head back and expelled a weary sigh. Why hadn’t his grandfather mentioned any of this to him? Maybe Massimo just never got the chance. Regardless, this situation was going from bad to worse. What was next?

When Dante didn’t say anything, Lizzie continued, “I’m sure when I explain to them about your grandfather no longer being able to fulfill his role, they will welcome a young, handsome replacement.”

She thought he was handsome? He sat up a little straighter. “And if I don’t agree—”

“From what I read, there are monetary penalties for not fulfilling the contract. I’m not an attorney but you might want to have someone take a look at it.”

A court battle would only extend the time it would take to sell the ristorante. Not to mention scare off his potential buyer—the one with deep pockets and an interest in keeping Ristorante Massimo as is.

Dante’s gaze moved to the document. “Do you mind if I keep these papers for a little while?”

“That’s fine. It’s a copy.”

“I’ll get back to you on this.” He got to his feet. He had a lot to think over. It was time to call it a night.

“You’ll have to decide soon, as the film crew will be here in a couple of days.”

His back teeth ground together. Talk about finding everything out at the last minute. No matter his decision, resolving this issue would take some time. Agreeing to the filming would be much quicker than a court suit. And in the end, would he win the lawsuit?

But then again, could he work with Lizzie for two months and ignore the way her smile made his pulse race? Or the way her eyes drew him in? What could he say? He was a red-hot Italian man who appreciated women. But nothing about Lizzie hinted at her being open to a casual, gratifying experience. And he was not about to get tangled up in something that involved his heart. Nothing could convince him to risk it—not after the carnage he’d witnessed. No way.

* * *

He was attracted to her.

Lizzie secretly reveled in the knowledge. Not that either of them would act on it. She’d noticed how he kept his distance, but his eyes betrayed him. She wondered if his demeanor had cooled because of the television show. Or was there something more? Her gaze slipped to his hands, not spying any rings. Still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a significant other.

Realizing the implication of what she was doing, she jerked her gaze upward. But that wasn’t any better as she ended up staring into his bottomless eyes. Her heart thudded against her ribs. This was not good. Not good at all.

She glanced down at the gleaming black-and-white floor tiles. She could still feel him staring at her. With great effort, she ignored him. Her trip to Rome was meant to be a learning experience, not to partake in a holiday romance.

Putting herself out there and getting involved with Dante was foolish. She had the scars on her heart to prove that romance could come with a high price tag. Besides, she was certain she wouldn’t live up to his expectations—she never did.

It was much easier to wear a smile and keep people at arm’s length. It was safer. And that was exactly how she planned to handle this situation.

Dante cleared his throat. “Well, since you’re a couple of days early, I’m sure you’ll want to tour the city. There’s lots to see and experience.” He led her to the front door. “Make sure you visit the Colosseum and the catacombs.”

“I’m looking forward to sightseeing. This is my first trip to Italy. Actually, it’s my first trip anywhere.” She pressed her lips together to keep from spilling details of her pitiful life. She didn’t want his sympathy. She was just so excited about this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Years ago in those foster homes, she never would have imagined that a trip like this would be a possibility—let alone a reality.

“I’d start with the Vatican Museums.”

“Thanks. I will.”

He smiled as he pulled open the door. The tired lines on his face smoothed and his eyes warmed. She was struck by how truly handsome he was when he let his guard down. She’d have to be careful and not fall for this mysterious Italian.

She glanced out into the dark night. “Is this the way to the apartment?”

His brow puckered. “Excuse me.”

“The apartment. Massimo told me that he had a place for me to stay?”

“He did?” Dante uttered the words as though they were part of his thought process and not a question for her.

She nodded and reached into her purse. She fumbled around until her fingers stumbled across some folded papers. Her fingers clasped them and pulled them out.

“I have the email correspondence.” She held out the evidence. “It’s all right here.”

Dante waved away the pages. “Are you this prepared for everything?”

She nodded. She’d learned a long time ago that people rarely keep their word. Just like her mother, who’d promised she’d do whatever it took to get Lizzie back from social services. In the beginning, Lizzie had gone to bed each night crying for the only parent she’d ever known—the mother who was big on neglect and sparing on kindness. At the time, Lizzie hadn’t known any other way. In the end, that mother-daughter reunion was not to be. Her mother had been all talk and no follow-through, unable to move past the drugs and alcohol. Lizzie languished in the system.

She’d grown up knowing one simple truth: people rarely lived up to their word. There was only one person to count on—herself.

However, in Massimo’s case, breaking his word was totally understandable. It was beyond his control. Her heart squeezed when she thought of that outgoing man being forced into retirement. She truly hoped while she was here that she’d get the opportunity to meet him and thank him for having such faith in her. It was as though he could see through her brave front to her quivering insides. During moments of doubt, he’d calmed her and assured her that all would be fine with the television segments.

She glanced at Dante. He definitely wasn’t a calming force like his grandfather. If anything, Dante’s presence filled her with nervous energy.

He leaned against the door. “There’s no apartment available.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Does everything with you have to be a struggle?”

“I’m not trying to be difficult. I simply don’t have any place for you to stay.”

“Why is it your grandfather seemed confident that I would be comfortable here?”

“Probably because there was a remodeled apartment available, but since I wasn’t privy to your arrangement with my grandfather, I just leased it. But I’m sure you won’t have a problem finding a hotel room nearby.”

Oh, yes, there would be a big problem. She didn’t have money to rent a hotel room. She could only imagine how expensive that would be and she needed every penny to pay down her debts and to pay tuition for Jules’s grad school. Every penny from the contract was already accounted for. There was nothing to spare.

“It was agreed that I would have free room and board.” Pride dictated that she keep it to herself that she didn’t have the money to get a hotel room.

He crossed his arms and stared at her as though debating his options. “What do you want me to do? Give you my bed?”

The words sparked a rush of tempting images to dance through her mind. Dante leaning in and pressing his very tempting lips to hers. His long, lean fingers grazing her cheek before resting against the beating pulse in her throat. Her leaning into him as he swept her up in his arms.

“Lizzie, are you okay?” Dante’s eyes filled with concern.

She swallowed hard, realizing that she’d let her imagination get the best of her. “Umm, yes. I’m just a little jet-lagged. And things were busy tonight, keeping me on my toes.”

His eyes probed her. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

She nodded.

Where in the world had those distracting images of Dante come from? It wasn’t as though she was looking for a boyfriend. The last man in her life had believed they should each have their own space until one day he dropped by to let her know that he was moving to California to chase his dream of acting. No I’ll miss you. Or Will you come with me?

He’d tossed her aside like the old worn-out couch and the back issues of his rocker magazines. He hadn’t wanted her except for a little fun here and there. She’d foolishly let herself believe that they were building something special. In the end, she hadn’t been enough for him—she always came up lacking.

“I’d really like to get some rest.” And some distance from Dante so she could think clearly. “It’s been a long evening and my feet are killing me.”

Was that a hint of color rising in his cheeks? Did he feel bad about putting her to work? Maybe he should, but she honestly didn’t mind. She liked meeting some of the people she’d hopefully be cooking for in the near future. That was if she ever convinced Dante that this arrangement could work.

“Putting you to work was a total mix-up. My apologies.” He glanced down at the floor. “I owe you.”

“Apology accepted.” She loved that he had manners. “Now, does this mean you’ll find me a bed?”