Page 81 of Wife Number One

I didn’t really expect anyone to be at the restaurant, considering the place had only just been auctioned off in the last week, but Luca’s car was parked out front, and the lights inside were all on.

I’d only planned to push the signed contracts beneath the door, but when I leaned on it, it gave way beneath my weight. “Hello?” I called out.

The sound of a nail gun stopped, and Luca stuck his head around the corner of a freshly plastered wall.

“Chaos,” he called. “Excellent. Come on back. We’ve got decisions to make.”

I slowly walked through the space that had become a construction zone in the short time since I’d last been here. Around the other side of the new wall, a kitchen area was being put together, and beyond that, heavy dark doors were being installed.

I came to a stop beside Luca and squinted at everything going on, a team of three guys bustling around with tool belts hanging off their hips and plaster dust on their boots.

Luca was somehow still neatly polished, though he did have his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows and a pencil tucked behind one ear.

“You don’t mess about,” I commented to him quietly.

“Every day this place sits empty with no customers is a day it’s not making money. I’m not about that life. Are you?”

I supposed I wasn’t. I was itching to get my hands dirty. I’d work out how to install ovens and tile backsplashes if I needed to. Whatever got this place up and running. While it wasn’t making money, neither was I. I couldn’t do that for too long if I didn’t want to blow through every cent I’d ever saved.

Which I definitely didn’t.

That money was all still earmarked for a place of my own. One that wasn’t majority owned by Luca Guerra.

But this place…it was a start. There was a nervous excitement inside me that hadn’t let up since I’d signed my name across the dotted line on that contract.

“When do we open?” I asked.

Luca twisted to look at me, his gaze dropping to the envelope in my hand. “You signed them, then?”

I handed them over to him.

He pulled the white papers with my signature on the bottom out and shook his head. “Well, look at that. I thought for sure I’d have to get down on my knees and blow you to get you to sign.”

I gave him a sidelong glance, making it clear I didn’t find him funny.

Luca sniggered. “Right. Chaos has no sense of humor and is maybe slightly homophobic. Got it.”

“Not homophobic. Just not interested in banging my boss.”

Luca slapped me on the back. “Good for you. I like that sort of attitude. Now come and see these plans. I want to show you what’s happening.”

He motioned me over to a workbench and unrolled a large piece of paper that had a crudely drawn but recognizable sketch of the restaurant. Luca took the pencil from behind his ear and drew circles toward the front of the rectangular map. “This is where we’ll have the tables. Right in front of the front window so anyone walking or driving past can see everyone salivating over the amazing dishes you’re going to create. We already had this wall installed which separates the dining room from the kitchen, and we’re going to have a mural artist come in and create something that everyone will want to have photos taken with. I want this place to be as social media friendly as possible. We need people talking about it on TikTok and the like, right?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about those things. I just make food.”

“Sure. But you’re part owner now. It’s only fair I tell you everything I have planned for this place.”

Shit. I was acting stupid. Of course I needed to know everything going on. I couldn’t just hide in the kitchen anymore, like I’d done at Simon’s place. I gave Luca a nod. “Yeah, okay. Go on.”

“The kitchen will be your domain. Everything state of the art.”

I watched over his shoulder as he scribbled out more ideas and marked out placements for various things.

I pointed at the lines symbolizing the two heavy wooden doors that led to the back half of the building. “And this is the function room?”

Luca laughed. “Sure. At least that’s what we’re calling it on paper.”

I squinted at him. “What do you mean?”

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