Sounds good. I’ll bring the wine.
Portia put her phone down, breathing out long and slow. Relief was making her fingers and toes tingle and suddenly, she couldn’t wait for it to be Saturday night.
* * *
“Is Luca Gionisi seeing anyone?”
Marco wasn’t paying attention to his brothers’ conversation, particularly. He was ruminating over Portia, and her conspicuous absence from his life this week, and the fact he had been left thinking she might be on the brink of walking away from him. Only to receive an invitation from her out of the blue.
And despite the fact these lunches werenot optional, had his flight not already been an hour out of London, he would have cancelled his plans to get to her house.
The feeling that the axe was about to drop made him all the more eager to enjoy every moment they had left together. Saturday night couldn’t come soon enough.
“Not recently. I think he broke up with that girl, what was her name? Angela? Annie? A few months ago.”
“Anna-Maria,” Sofia chimed in. “And yes, he did. It was all very amicable though. He’s a good guy.”
“Yes, he is, isn’t he?” Dante asked, turning his attention to Sofia.
“Why all the sudden interest?” Salvatore asked. “What’s going on?”
“Just wondering if he’d be interested in going on a blind date.”
“With you?” Rafaelo teased, grinning.
Dante grinned back, took a drink of his red wine. “My assistant. You’ve all met her. Portia.”
Marco sat up a little straighter, his gaze narrowing on his brother’s face.
“Yeah. I’ve met her,” Rafaelo said with raised brows. “You mean your seriously beautiful assistant who can run rings around you in the brains department?”
Dante flicked his napkin at his cousin and beside Rafaelo, his girlfriend Marcia shot him a scathing look. Raf pretended not to notice.
Francesco, Rafaelo’s brother, let out a low whistle. “If you’re booking up her social calendar, I’ll take a date. She’s gorgeous.”
“Absolutely not,” Dante responded crisply. “She is one hundred per cent off limits to anyone here.” His gaze travelled to Marco and sat there. “Particularly you.”
Marco’s spine flooded with steel.
“Careful, brother. That sounds like a challenge,” he couldn’t help responding.
“If you touch her, I’ll kill you,” Dante growled. “She is definitely not your type.”
“No? What makes you say that?”
Dante pulled a face. “I think Francesco already answered that question. She’s got more than six brain cells?”
Marco’s temper was spiking but he was careful not to portray it.
“Why are you trying to set her up, anyway?” Sofia asked. “The boys are right. She’s beautiful, intelligent, always strikes me as confident. Surely she doesn’t need help in the romance stakes?”
“She had a bad break up a while ago,” Dante responded crisply. “I think some romantic distraction would be good for her.”
Sofia let out an incredulous laugh. “Dante Santoro, why look at you with your big, soft heart. You really care about her, don’t you?”
“This guy was a jerk,” he responded crisply. “So?” He looked around the table. “Luca?”
“He’s nice,” Sofia gave a nod of approval, with no inkling of how this conversation was affecting Marco. “I’ve known a few of the women he’s dated. No one says a bad word about him. Definitely a good palette cleanser.”