Page 34 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

I nod, leaning forward slightly, my own tone businesslike but respectful. "I've crunched the numbers based on our average Tuesdays over the last year. For closing down the entire restaurant to accommodate your gatherings, here's the figure we're looking at.”

I take out the small notepad and pen that I keep in my front coat pocket, jotting down a number and folding the piece of paper in half before handing it over.

Luca picks it up, eyeing the number with a seasoned gaze, then sets it down with a nod. "Fair enough, Patrick. But let’s address any concerns you might have. Out in the open, yes?" he suggests, a faint smile playing on his lips.

I appreciate his straightforward approach. "Luca," I start, honoring his preference for informality, "my main concern is about the nature of these meetings. I run a tight ship here, and I need to ensure that whatever business you conduct won’t bring any trouble to Savor’s doorstep."

Luca chuckles at this, seeming to respect the directness. "I like you, Patrick. You’re a straight shooter. Listen, we’re just having dinner, talking shop. Nothing that will spill over and disrupt your business."

However, Donnie, who had been quietly observing until now, leans in, his expression tight. "Seems like you're looking for guarantees we can't give," he interjects, his voice sharp. "Are you looking to back out? Because we can definitely make it worth your while, or we can just as easily find another place that won't ask so many questions."

The air thickens with tension, and I hold Donnie's gaze unflinchingly. "I'm in the business of running a top-notch restaurant. Your money's good, but not if it costs me my reputation or brings the wrong kind of attention here. I'm sure you can understand that," I reply, my voice steady and definitive.

Luca raises his hand, gesturing for calm. "Donnie, let’s keep it friendly. It’s Patrick’s right to ask these questions. He’s protecting his interests, same as we would." Turning back to me, Luca smiles thinly. "You’ll have no problems from us, Patrick. We’re here to enjoy your food and your hospitality. That’s all."

Luca, still holding his wine glass with an air of casual authority, slides a list across the table toward me after noting my agreement to a trial run. "We'll pay your price plus ten percent," he declares confidently, a clear sign of his intent to ensure his deal is appealing. "And you have my word, Patrick, there'll be no trouble from us."

I glance down at the list he's provided. It details the number of guests and the requirement for three servers and specifies that I personally oversee the menu for the evening. It’s clear they're looking for an exclusive, tailored, and discreet experience.

"Just make sure the evening is memorable, Patrick," Luca adds, his tone indicating not just a request but an expectation.

As I’m about to respond, affirming that I can indeed craft a menu that will impress even the most discerning palates, the kitchen door suddenly swings open. Allie steps out, her presence like a sudden breeze that shifts the energy in the room.

Chapter 21

Allie

"Oops, sorry for the interruption," I quip as I halt mid-step, realizing I've just barged into what looks like a high-stakes meeting.

The two men with Patrick, oozing a vibe that's part GQ and part Godfather, give me a quick once-over.

Patrick, ever the cool captain of his ship, stands up smoothly. "No worries, Allie. Why don’t you join us for a moment?" His invitation is all the reassurance I need to stride over, even though I feel wildly underdressed in my chef’s gear. “Gentlemen, this is my newest sous chef, Allie Tucker.”

As I approach, the older gentleman, introduced as Luca, stands up. Chivalry isn’t dead, it seems, or maybe it’s just good manners for show. "Ms. Tucker, a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, though his eyes are calculating.

Next, I’m introduced to Luca’s son, Donnie. He’s another story altogether. When we shake hands, he holds on a tad too long, his eyes doing a not-so-subtle up-and-down glance over my body that stops noticeably south of my face. I extract my hand with a swift tug, plastering on a smile that’s more a bared-teeth warning than a friendly greeting.

Patrick jumps in like a pro, smoothing over the awkward edges. "Allie here is one of our top chefs at Savor," he tells them, his pride in my work clear in his voice.

Luca perks up. "Then we must owe much of tonight's exceptional dinner to Ms. Tucker?" His tone is appreciative but curt, as if he’s used to getting more than just good food out of his conversations.

"That's right," Patrick confirms, giving me a quick, supportive look that says he's in my corner, no matter what high-rolling guests we have.

Donnie, meanwhile, has gone quiet, but his gaze is still stuck on me like some kind of unwelcome sauce. I decide to keep the conversation strictly culinary.

"I hope everything was to your satisfaction," I say, aiming for cheerful professionalism.

"Absolutely delightful, thank you," Luca responds; his smile widens just a bit as he settles back into his chair.

"Anyway, I figured we should all get acquainted since Allie will be assisting me next Tuesday," Patrick explains, his tone professional. "She'll be a key part of the evening’s food."

Luca nods approvingly, his eyes assessing me but politely, while Donnie's eyes continue to linger a little too long, making my skin crawl. Patrick goes on to mention the names of the waitstaff that will be present, outlining the plan with the precision of a general.

As agreements are made and hands are shaken, Luca takes Patrick aside for a moment to go over one more detail. That’s when the air shifts. The moment Luca is out of earshot, Donnie leans in, his voice dropping to a murmur that's meant to be charming but just comes off as sleazy.

"You know, you really shouldn’t hide such a pretty face back in the kitchen all night," Donnie says, his breath giving off a whiff of wine. He winks as if we're sharing some private joke instead of him making an utterly inappropriate comment.

I stiffen, my smile fixed but my eyes cold. "I think I serve the guests best from the kitchen," I retort, my tone light but edged with steel. "That's where the magic happens, after all."

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