Page 55 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

As the evening begins to gather pace at Savor, I steel myself for the inevitable confrontation with Luca Amato. His reputation as both a mobster and a sharp businessman precedes him, but it’s the professional facade he maintains that I must navigate tonight.

Observing discreetly from the edge of the dining area, I watch Luca’s interactions with his associates, noting the respect he commands and the subtle undercurrents of power at play.

Finally, I get my chance.

Waiting for a break in the conversation, I signal to Luca, requesting a moment of privacy away from prying eyes and ears. His response is measured: a nod of acknowledgment before he excuses himself with practiced ease from his group.

We move to a secluded corner of the restaurant, setting the stage for a serious conversation. I don’t waste a moment and dive right into the matter at hand.

“Patrick, my friend. Is there something wrong?”

"Luca, we need to address something about your son," I begin, my tone firm. "Last time he was here, his behavior was out of line—especially toward Allie. He made her feel uncomfortable, and frankly, it's unacceptable."

Luca raises an eyebrow, his usually easygoing demeanor sharpening into focused attention. "Is that right?" he asks, the smoothness of his voice belying the seriousness of the discussion. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"Not only was he making inappropriate comments, looking at her like a piece of meat, but I also overheard talk about him taking someone out. You know I appreciate the business you bring here, Luca, but I have to draw the line. My staff's comfort and safety are my top priorities," I state.

Luca’s face hardens for a moment, the affable mobster facade giving way to the shrewd businessman underneath. "Patrick, I apologize. Donnie can be ... impetuous. But you have my assurance, it won’t happen again. I'll speak with him personally," Luca replies, his tone full of irritation at his son's antics.

"And I need to know that this sort of talk doesn’t spill over into my restaurant. It’s bad for business, and it’s not the environment I want for my guests or my crew," I add.

Luca nods, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth, appreciating the directness. "You have my word. Donnie will be reined in. He respects strength, and you've shown plenty. We’ll keep our business clean here. No more talk of the unsavory sort, and no more making your staff uncomfortable. You run a fine establishment, and I respect that," he states, extending his hand to seal the promise.

I shake his hand, feeling the weight of his assurance while also well aware of the underlying complexities of dealing with a man like Luca.

Luca's smile widens appreciatively. "I’m looking forward to the rest of the meal, Patrick. Your reputation is well deserved," he comments with genuine enthusiasm.

"I hope it exceeds your expectations," I reply, nodding respectfully before turning to head back to the kitchen. There, Allie is skillfully arranging a modern twist on a classic—beetroot carpaccio with goat cheese mousse and a walnut crumble—a vibrant and elegant dish.

She looks up as I approach, a hint of concern in her eyes that shifts to curiosity. "I saw you talking to the big man. Is everything okay?" she asks, carefully placing a delicate sprinkle of microgreens on the dish.

"Yeah, it went well. I spoke to him about Donnie. He understands the situation and assured me it won’t happen again," I tell her, watching her face light up with relief.

Allie's expression softens, her earlier worry dissipating. "Thank you, Patrick. It means a lot that you stood up for me, for us," she says.

I nod, feeling a surge of protectiveness. "Always. Now, let's get these dishes out and show them what we can do.”

Allie smiles but then her brow furrows with concern. "Is it really that easy? Donnie's just going to behave suddenly?"

I give a noncommittal shrug, my tone firm. "Luca gave his word. He strikes me as a man who honors his commitments. But if he doesn't keep his son in line, I won’t hesitate to close our doors to them. I won’t let Savor become a playground for mob antics.”

I cast a glance through the service window to the dining area, noting the same group settled and no new faces. "Looks like it might not even matter tonight. There's still no sign of Donnie."

Allie nods, absorbing my words, her expression one of relief. "Let's hope it stays that way.”

As I watch Allie deftly preparing the next course, her hands moving with the confidence of a seasoned chef, I can’t help but admire her. She catches my gaze, a playful smirk crossing her lips. “You know, I can’t do my best work with you breathing down my neck,” she teases.

I chuckle, leaning against the doorway. “Can’t help it—I like watching a pro at work.” Her cheeks flush with that charming blush I find irresistible.

“I need some fresh air. I’m going to step out for a bit,” I say, planting a quick kiss on her cheek, feeling her warmth linger as I pull away.

Stepping outside, I breathe in the cool evening air, trying to clear my head. My mind circles back to Caleb. Still no word from him. The gravity of his silence stings. Did I push him too far? Could I have handled things better?

I’m already on edge as I walk toward the back of the building, but the loud banter and thumping bass of music only heighten my irritation. Rounding the corner, I spot a familiar, unwelcome scene—Donnie and a couple of his cronies loitering by their car, cigarette smoke swirling around them.

“Hey! No loitering back here,” I call out as I approach, my voice firm.

Donnie turns, a smirk spreading across his face. “Chef Patrick! Is Allie working tonight?” he throws out casually, his tone grating on my nerves.

---