Page 51 of Catching Mr. Right

“He’ll come home with us, won’t he, Dad?” Claudia rests her head on my shoulder carefully so as not to damage her chignon. “Surely someone else can oversee the opening of this place.”

“Sorry, Josef. Do you mind if I have a moment alone with your daughter?”

“Sure. I’ll step into the kitchen. Make sure everything is perfect. When does our chef arrive?”

“Next couple days.”

“Great. You’ve outdone yourself here, Sam.” He disappears through the swinging doors.

I know I have. I put everything into this place. Sure, I played by the rules, I followed Josef’s orders, but I poured my heart into getting this place up and running.

“Have you gotten the ring yet?” Claudia asks, throwing her arms around my neck and raising up to kiss me.

Gripping her biceps, I put an arm’s distance between us before she can leave an imprint of her lacquered pout on my face. “We really need to talk.”

“About what?”

I have no idea where to start. Except for one thing. “I’m not going back to Los Angeles with you.”

“But we need to start planning our engagement. We’ll need to make the announcement together. There’ll have to be a photo shoot.”

“Listen, Claudia.” I grip her hands and peer into her hazel eyes. “I’m not going back to L.A. period. I’m not going to marry you.”

“You’re joking. You’re playing some mean prank, aren’t you?” She glances around the restaurant as though she expects to spot some hidden camera or to find people laughing. “This isn’t funny, Sam.”

“No. It isn’t,” I agree. “But it is happening. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in a subpar relationship that doesn’t make either of us happy. I’m old enough to know that I don’t want to waste my life playing it safe like that. And neither are you, otherwise you wouldn’t have been sleeping with my housemate. I’m doing this for both our benefit.”

“Oh my God, you really mean it.” The muscles in her face twitch as she goes from disbelief to shock to fury as she storms toward the kitchen doors. “You’re committing career suicide. Dad’s going to fire you. He’ll ruin your reputation. You won’t be able to work anywhere decent.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” And yet not having a safety net is thrilling. It’s adrenaline coursing through my veins. For the first time in my life I am going to pursue what I really want.

“Sam Sweets, you’re a dead man.” Josef slams through the kitchen doors a minute later. “I am going to destroy you.” He shakes his fist as he marches toward me, Claudia trailing behind him.

“Figured that might be the case.” I pull the napkin from my pocket and place it on the bar in front of me while I pour two glasses of Glenfiddich. “But this is for your daughter’s own good. Claudia’s not happy either, otherwise she wouldn’t be having an affair with your dish washer.”

“What?” Josef turns his focus on his daughter. “Is this true?”

“It’s just sex, Dad.” She scowls. “I’m not going to marry a dish washer.”

“You’re damn right you’re not going to marry a dishwasher.” A vein bulges in his temple. “You shouldn’t be screwing him either. He’s my employee.”

“Sam was your employee, and you didn’t care that I was screwing him.” Claudia pouts.

“That is not the same thing.” His eyes widen as his voice drops.

I clear my throat and interrupt their argument before Josef can manage to lose his infamous temper. “I want to offer you a deal.”

I slide the napkin in front of him and open it. The amount is every single cent in my trust account—for once being the son of a health and fitness celebrity might come in useful—and everything I’ve saved these past sixteen years working at Josef’s. “If you want to blame me for the break up with Claudia that’s fine. If you need to ruin my reputation in L.A. to satisfy her honor, I’m okay with that. It wouldn’t be the first time my name’s been dredged in mud. You know who my mother is. All I ask is that you don’t make it about the food. And you sell me this place.”

“Here?” He glances around. “You want this restaurant?”

“Yes. And I don’t want the name. I’m not looking to use your reputation. I want to build something of my own.”

“You could fail,” he says, all business. “Plenty of places fail in the first year.”

“You can’t be serious,” Claudia exclaims.

“Go wait in the car,” he orders, before he picks up the napkin, his brow furrowed with thought. “You might sink.”

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