Page 43 of Heart of Stone

“Venice, Italy?”

“The one and only,” he confirmed with a smile.

“Wow, I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted to go to Italy,” I said enviously.

“Maybe I’ll take you one day.”

He said it casually, while assessing me with those irresistible sapphire blues. His ability to constantly take me by surprise was astounding and I struggled not to look like a gaping fish while I digested his words.

Vacationing in Italy with Alexander Stone?

I hated to admit it, but the idea sounded appealing.

Don’t even go there. Bad idea.

“What is this restaurant?” I asked, choosing not to explorethatavenue of conversation. “I didn’t see a name outside.”

“That’s because it doesn’t have one yet. Although, it seems like Matteo might have an idea now,” he said dryly, a frown returning to his face.

“This is Matteo’s restaurant? I thought that this might be your place,” I mused.

“Hell, no!” he exclaimed, and let out a loud genuine laugh.

It was a full, throaty sound that was pleasant to my ears. It made him seem more human, and not so much like the heavenly Adonis that he normally portrayed. His laughter was contagious and I found myself smiling.

And for the first time since my arrival, I relaxed a bit.

“Why do you say it like that? Why not own a restaurant?”

He seems to have a hand in just about everything else in this city.

“Restaurants aren’t my thing. Way too much stress. Like I said before, real estate is what I do. I just own this building. Matteo is the crazy one. If he wants to tackle the food business, more power to him. He’s been after me to come down to try some of his dishes before the grand opening,” he told me, reaching for a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. “I thought this would be the perfect time to take him up on his offer. Plus, I wanted a bit of privacy tonight so that we could talk freely during our meeting.”

A meeting, huh?Okay. I’ll play along.

I studied him carefully as he poured the deep red into two bordeaux glasses. I tried to get a read on what he was thinking, but as usual, his expression was guarded and I got nothing. I accepted the glass that he held out for me.

“We couldn’t talk freely in a restaurant full of people?” I asked, taking a slow sip of the wine. I typically preferred white wine, but the red was surprisingly good and I savored the bite of the bold flavor on my tongue.

“Unfortunately, no – at least not without any interruption. I try to keep a low profile, but restaurants are tough. I have expensive tastes and influential people tend to frequent the restaurants that I like.” He paused and frowned, his brow furrowing in aggravation. “Lately, it’s been a bombardment of parasites from Wall Street trying to convince me to go public. The lack of privacy is rather annoying.”

While his words may have seemed slightly arrogant, his tone was bitter and resentful. I was intrigued and wanted to question him further, but Matteo arrived with our appetizers, interrupting the conversation.

“Ah, here we are!” Matteo said as he placed two plates in the center of the table. “Insalata CapreseandAntipasto Italiano.” Using a serving fork, he began to place portions of the appetizers onto side dishes for both Alexander and I.

“This looks great. Thanks, Matt,” Alexander said, taking a bite of smoked prosciutto. “Mmm. It tastes great, too.”

I went for theCapreseSalad first, fresh mozzarella being a weakness of mine. The cheese practically melted in my mouth and the tomato was bursting with flavor. I nodded my head in approval.

“Very good!” Matteo exclaimed, obviously pleased that his guests of honor were enjoying the first course.“Buon appetito,” he said with a slight bow and left us to enjoy the array of cold cuts and cheeses.

“I don’t know much about the stock market, but wouldn’t you make more money if you went public with your company?” I asked curiously, continuing the conversation where we left off as I enjoyed a second bite of the seasoned cheese.

“Money doesn’t matter. I’d rather be my own boss. If I offered stock to the general public, then I would have too many people to answer to. And as you pointed out earlier this afternoon, answering to others is not something that I would do well. I prefer to be my own boss.”

“It must really suck to be a millionaire,” I sarcastically commented.

“Billionaire, Krystina,” he corrected matter-of-factly. I raised my eyebrows, slightly aghast by his pompous statement.

---