Chapter 1

Luca

“Doyouthinkwe’llever just have a normal lunch?” Christopher grinned as he sat down, his stocky limbs wreaking all kinds of havoc with the crystalware on the table.

I held on to my wine glass to keep it from toppling over and leaned back in my chair to consider my best friend of nearly fifteen years, not without a bit of amusement.

“But when else will you have a reason to wear these terrible shirts that you think is dressing up?” I didn’t bother to hide the judgment on my face, but as usual, he took it in stride.

“All of us weren’t lucky enough to be born in a three-piece Armani suit. This is clean. Get over it.” He lifted the menu to hide his laughter.

“Christopher, a private rooftop lunch overlooking the city!” I expanded my arms for emphasis. “A shirt with buttons and no elastic in your pants. Bare minimum. Have I taught you nothing?”

He looked down at his outfit that made him seem like a college kid who worked in a video store instead of the forty-something environmental lawyer that he was.

“I don’t know, Luca, you must not be a very good teacher.” He shrugged nonchalantly and took an unholy bite from a breadstick. “Hmm, they have the garlic ones here. You’re right, I should’ve at least worn a tie.”

I threw my hands up to the heavens. “There’s no winning with you!”

Christopher burst out laughing and tossed a piece of his breadstick at me. I swatted the projectile directly into our waiter, who’d suddenly appeared at the table.

“Scusi, my friend is simply overcome with passion for… your bread.”

But that was how it went with us. As different as our worlds were that day, we both knew we were cut from the same humble cloth manufactured in a small Wisconsin town. He was the first friend I made after my family came to the States and remained the closest thing to a brother I’d ever had.

“Would you like to hear today’s specials?” the waiter asked.

“Specials?” I frowned incredulously, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck bristle in that familiar way. “I booked out your entire rooftop, and you’re asking me about specials? Where’s… the other one… with the blonde hair and pretty eyes?”

He swallowed, his gaze shifting uncertainly to Christopher.

I clicked my fingers in his face. “Hey, I’m the one you’re serving. Look at me.” The waiter obeyed instantly, visibly shaking in his shoes. “Now, get me someone who knows how to do their job. Now.”

Christopher whistled a breath through pursed lips. “Rough day?”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, my irritation not yet dissolved.

He raised his eyebrows, a slight smile on his mouth. “So, you usually go around biting people’s heads off for no reason?”

“No reason,” I scoffed, tossing my napkin onto the table. “Incompetent wait staff treating me like a… a customer.”

“You are a customer, though.” He gave me that look he always did when he didn’t agree with me. The look that told me I’d stepped over some invisible boundary.

But I wasn’t having it. Not this time.

“Customers don’t arrive in their own helicopter after closing off half the restaurant,” I stated matter-of-factly, taking another sip of my wine.

Christopher shook his head. “You know, Luca, you’re a handsome fucker—all dark Italian vibes and moody eyebrows. But that shade of asshole doesn’t look good on you, man.”

“No?” I leaned back, puffing out my chest proudly. “I’ve been told it complements the color of my eyes.”

That got him laughing, and soon I joined in, the tension at the table fading under the sound. A sound that was broken by my ringing cell phone a second later.

“Well, it was great catching up,” Christopher said with a knowing smile. “Should I just go now or sneak off after you leave the table?”

I waved him off as I answered. “Now who’s the asshole?”

My partner rambled urgently in my ear just as the pretty blonde came out with my usual order of seared bluefin tuna with roasted lemon potatoes. She tended our table without a word, refilling our glasses and making sure everything was in its place.