Page 25 of Empire of Temptation

I sighed and tried not to drop the crate. “I’m not freaking out.”

“Please. I know you and I know that look on your face. Come on. I don’t want this wine to overheat and lose its acidic backbone.”

I laughed softly. “I’m learning that Italians are snobs when it comes to food and wine.”

“Did Mr. Late Night Pasta teach you that?”

I’d confessed the entire story of Luca’s visit to the restaurant to Maggie. Twice, because she made me repeat it. “Stop. Don’t make up nicknames for him.” Bad enough that I’ve already made up my own nicknames, and each one had the word “daddy” in it.

We walked inside and stopped, our eyes needing a minute to adjust. “Holy shit,” Maggie exclaimed. “Is this really your place?”

I tried to see the changes through my friend’s eyes. New coat of paint, new tall bar tables and chairs that Roberto found for a steal. The clutter was gone from the walls, and there were fewer dining tables, which made the place feel bigger, less cramped. “It’s not finished,” I said. “We’ve reached out to some local Hudson Valley artists for pieces to hang on the walls. And we hired guys to sand and stain the old wooden tables, so they’ll look like farm tables.”

“No more tablecloths?”

“No more tablecloths.”

“Wow. This is major.”

I set the crate on a chair. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“Are you kidding?” Maggie gaped as she looked around. “It’s gorgeous. It’s like a place you’d see in New York or Boston.”

“But will people want to eat here?”

“Babe, the entire valley is talking about it. You’re going to have lines around the block.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears. I didn’t like everyone gossiping about me, even if it benefitted the restaurant. “What are they saying?”

“At first it was about Tony and Christina. But now that the jobs are posted, some people think you sold the restaurant to an investor group.”

That hit a little too close to home. “Why is he helping me?” I whispered, voicing my deepest fear to Maggie.

Maggie walked closer so we wouldn’t be overheard. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because I’m afraid of the answer.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re a hot piece of ass and he has money to burn.” She shrugged. “I wish some gorgeous Italian fairy godfather would show up at the vineyard and make all my problems go away.”

“What if he expected you to sleep with him in return?”

“Then I would count myself super fucking lucky.”

The front door opened and daylight cut across the entryway. Icouldn’t see his face, but it was a tall man wearing a suit—and my heart jumped in my chest. Every part of me went on high alert.

Then the door closed and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. Mayor Lombardi. Christina’s father.

Shit.

The mayor looked around, his gaze taking in the restaurant, before finding me. The smile he gave didn’t reach his eyes as he drew closer. His suit coat was unbuttoned, which meant I could see the way his too-small dress shirt stretched across his middle. He wasn’t heavy, but he wasn’t trim, either. I knew he liked to eat, though, because he usually came in once a week when Christina was working. He never paid—“It’s a privilege for you to have the mayor eat here, honey,” he told me the first time I brought him a check—but always tipped his daughter with a few hundred dollar bills.

Regardless, I hated how he stared at me over his chicken piccata.

He walked in like he had the right. “Hello, Val. I see you’ve been busy.”

“Hello, Mayor Lombardi. Sorry if you came for lunch, but we’re closed.”

“I’m not here to eat.” He nodded once at Maggie, then returned his stare to me. “I’m here to talk about how you fired my daughter.”

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