37
 
 Enzo
 
 “Hello, Enzo.”
 
 This is just what I need. We’re going to have to find a new restaurant soon.
 
 “Evening, G.”
 
 I step inside, wondering why the high-powered attorney is playing hostess tonight. After her little maneuver a few weeks back, I’m even less keen on being in her presence. She asked for a small press opp, a photo together, and I caved. Should have known she’d put her own little spin on the story. My fault, but it’s a mistake I won’t make again.
 
 “I hate to say it, because you know how much I adore you.” Giovanna walks us toward the table even though she knows full well we sit in the same spot every week. “But you look like shit.”
 
 Not what I was expecting.
 
 “Thanks,” I say wryly. “Appreciate it.”
 
 Instead of leaving me with my menu to wait for Hayden, the brazen woman sits across from me. I seriously can’t catch a break.
 
 “Can I be honest?” she asks.
 
 “More honest than telling me I look like shit?”
 
 The look on her face, a blank slate, makes me think of all those days she spends in a courtroom, playing whatever part is necessary to convince everyone around her that her client is innocent.
 
 Giovanna herself, not so much.
 
 “You don’t like me.”
 
 I’ll give it to her, G managed to surprise me with that one.
 
 “I can come on a bit strong.”
 
 This time I’m the one who delivers a poker face. I don’t much like her, but I’d never say, or even hint, at such a thing. So I remain as impassive as possible.
 
 “You’re one of the only men I’ve ever met who hasn’t jumped at the chance to be with me.”
 
 I can’t help but laugh.
 
 “I love your humility, G.”
 
 She smiles. Not a predatory, come-hither smile, but a genuine one. Who knew she was capable of that?
 
 “I also don’t like beating around the bush. But you know that.”
 
 I glance toward the door. No Hayden yet. “I do.”
 
 “After I saw the pic of your girlfriend”—at the mention of Chari, I’m on high alert—“I realized we were never going to be a thing.”
 
 I don’t deny it.
 
 “I’m not your type.”
 
 No, not at all.
 
 “So you can stop looking over your shoulder, waiting for me to pounce. I’ve moved on.”
 
 “Have you?”