Page 82 of Empire of Temptation

When we pulled up to the trattoria, she tried to open the car door herself. I grabbed her arm. “Wait, piccolina. I’ll come around and help you.”

“That’s not necessary. And I need to hurry.”

I gave her a look, one that had intimidated dangerous men across Europe. Valentina just rolled her eyes. “Fine. But hurry up, Luca.”

I got out of the car and buttoned my suit coat. Then I came around and helped her to the ground. Instead of letting her go, I grabbed her hand and started walking her inside.

“You’re annoying,” she said under her breath.

“Are you saying you don’t like it?” I asked, throwing her words back at her.

She bumped her shoulder against mine. “I might like it a little.”

“Good.” I opened the trattoria’s door and held it for her. “We’ll talk later about where you’re sleeping tonight.”

“I’m sleeping at home.” She tugged on my tie as she walked past. “We’re reopening tomorrow. I need to be on my game.”

I followed her inside, then stopped in my tracks. Gabriele stood behind the bar, using a knife to cut something.

Che cazzo? What was my son doing here?

Dropping Valentina’s elbow, I strode directly to the bar until I was standing in front of him. He had the nerve to keep slicing lemons instead of addressing me. I spoke in our language so no one would understand how furious I was. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ciao, Papà. How was New York?”

I grabbed the knife out of his hand. “I asked you a question, figlio.”

He shrugged. “I asked to be a bartender. I thought it might be fun—and I’ll get to eat here for free. Have you tasted Giovanni’s food? It’s so fucking good.”

“You are not working here.”

I sensed her a second before Valentina appeared at my side. She reached across the bar to offer her hand to Gabriele. “Hey, Gabi. I see you’ve convinced Roberto to give you a job.”

“Ciao, Signorina Montella.” Gabriele shook her hand.

“Have you bartended before?” she asked.

“He’s not bartending here.” I pointed at Gabriele. “Get your shit. I’m taking you back to the house.”

“Luca, wait.” Valentina put her hand on my arm. “Why can’t he work here?”

“My son is not a bartender. He has far more important duties than pouring drinks for frat boys and lonely old women.”

She drew herself up and gave me a withering stare. “Oh, so you think he’s too good to work here.” Before I could explain myself, she faced Gabriele again. “Welcome aboard. We’re happy to have you, Gabriele.”

My son grinned and leaned toward her, too close, almost flirtatiously. “You can callme Gabi.”

Turning, I spotted a young man polishing forks. “Find Roberto.Now.” He got up and sprinted for the kitchen.

I drummed my fingers on the bar, waiting, seething. Valentina and Gabriele were chatting, ignoring me. Apparently there were laws in New York about alcohol, and Gabriele was too young to serve drinks. I didn’t give a fuck, because he wasn’t staying.

From the second he landed in New York Gabriele had done his best to piss me off. I’d instructed him not to leave the house, yet he ran here as soon as my back was turned. I should send him back to Catanzaro tonight.

“Papà.”

I looked over at my son. Valentina had stepped away to deal with one of the construction workers, so we were alone.

Gabriele leaned across the bar and though no one understood our language, he lowered his voice. “I’m here to keep an eye on her. I know you have cameras here and at her house. Aldo said the former dishwasher used a fake name, too. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to help you. So let me help you.”

---