Page 36 of The Billionaire Player

I finished the last bite of my steak before I answered. “It’s a collaborative effort. I did a lot of research before I even thought about opening up a restaurant. I looked at what succeeded, what didn’t, and why. The biggest thing I saw that caused restaurants to fail was ego. Ego of the restaurant owner who thought they knew how to cook when they didn’t, or a chef who thought they knew how to run a restaurant when they didn’t.”

“So, you found a way around the failures?” she asked.

“Exactly. I wanted to bring my love of food and cooking to other people, but not be overly taxed by it. I like the process of running the restaurant, of seeing it all come together, but I had to choose between being a chef or being the owner and I decided I wanted to be the owner.”

“Do you regret that decision? Do you miss cooking?”

“It’s hard enough being the chef, with the ordering, the scheduling, the working. I didn’t want to be so bogged down with everything that I wouldn’t enjoy it. I realized I loved cooking but I didn’t want it to be a chore, a job. It is what it would be if I was the chef. I still like cooking; I still enjoy helping create the menu or even new dishes-”

“But you don’t have to do it every day so you can keep your love fresh,” she said.

“You get it. You get me,” I said and refilled our wine glasses.

“I’m starting to. I want to know more about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why did you come back from Italy? Did you not like it there?”

“In the back of my mind, I always knew I would come back to New York to open my restaurant. This is my home, my hometown, where my family and friends were. Italy was great, but it wasn’t home and it never would be.

“Bailey had finished her graduate degree in Italy, I had gotten my level two sommelier. We realized we had done what we wanted to do. In the time we were there, Bailey had grown, matured, and flourished not being under our parents' worrisome eyes. She had turned into a fine woman but she missed home. I did too. So, we came home.”

“Do you miss Italy?” Lexi asked.

“Have you ever been there?” I countered.

“Once one summer, when I was younger, my grandmother took me and my sister. It was incredible. I told myself I would live there when I was old enough.”

“And did you?”

“I did for a summer. It was great, fun, hot, a once in a lifetime experience.”

“You didn’t stay. Why?”

“I loved it. I was glad I did it, but it wasn’t home. I think I’m like you. New York is where I belong and where I want to stay.”

“Is your family close?” I asked.

“Yes. My sister and I are very close. She’s going to college in Long Island and living with our parents. I was born and raised out there. Mom keeps saying how she wants to retire and move down to Florida, or open up a food truck and see the United States, but they’ll never do.”

“Why is that?”

“I think they’re hoping that one of their kids will get married and have grandkids. My brother is married and has been for a few years but hasn’t had kids yet. He and I aren’t as close but we still see each other at family functions.”

“Why aren’t you and your brother close?”

I couldn’t imagine not being close to my siblings. Bailey and I were inseparable when we were in Italy and we talked to Walker and Mac all the time. I had been happy to be back in New York for no other reason than I could see them on a regular basis.

“We just aren’t. We never clicked, not like my sister and I do. We talk, we don’t dislike each other, we just aren’t close. What about you?”

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“Everything,” she replied and took a sip of her drink.

“What do you mean by everything? Is this an interview? I thought we were just two people enjoying a meal together.”

I meant it to come out flirty, that I was teasing her, but I could see I had stepped wrong and I felt bad. I had been enjoying the evening and spending time with her, but maybe she thought it was more than I did.

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