Page 16 of Strictly Business

“No, just push the door,” he says.

I do and I realize that the wrought iron gate is just painted on the door. It is done exceptionally well, and I never would have guessed it wasn’t real. I smile as I step inside of the restaurant. It’s small enough to feel intimate but not small enough to be awkward. The tables are set far enough apart that there is privacy, and each table has a small candle burning in the center. The tables are all wooden as are the chairs, although the seat part of the chairs is cushioned with red and burnt orange colored seating squares.

The walls are decorated in reds, oranges and yellows and the lighting is low. The floor is bare concrete, and it is immaculate as is the whole place. There are two or three other couples eating but there are plenty of empty tables and I think Wyatt was probably right about them being able to fit us in without a reservation.

The air smells of garlic and roasting meat and I am embarrassed when my stomach growls again at the delicious smell and Wyatt laughs quietly. Before he can tease me about it, a door opens, bringing the smell of cooking food even more intensely to the room and I can feel my mouth watering.

The man who has appeared through the door looks like he is in his mid-fifties. He’s wearing black pants and a black tie and a white shirt. His black hair is neatly gelled back, and his shoes are so shiny I feel like I would be able to use them as a mirror. His caramel skin is lined around his eyes, but the warmth of his brown eyes makes me think those lines are genuine laughter lines rather than wrinkles.

I get further evidence of this when the man beams at us and his whole face lights up. He extends a hand to Wyatt who takes it. The man pumps his hand up and down twice and then pulls him in for a hug, before turning his attention to me. He takes hold of my shoulders and air kisses my cheeks one then the other and finally, the first one again.

“Wyatt, how good to see you,” the man says in a heavily accented voice. “How are you? And who is this?”

“I’m good thanks Guiseppe,” Wyatt says with a smile. “This is my friend and colleague, Serena West.”

“A pleasure Miss West,” Guiseppe says, taking my hand in his and kissing the back of it.

“Oh please, call me Serena,” I say.

“Serena. A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady,” Guiseppe says.

It would have sounded cheesy from anyone else, but somehow, from Guiseppe it sounds like a genuine compliment, and I smile at him, feeling my cheeks turning pink at his words.

“Any chance of a table for two Guiseppe?” Wyatt asks. “We won’t keep you late, I promise.”

“A table for two? Si. Si,” Guiseppe says. “You are welcome to stay as long as you would like to.”

He turns away and beckons for us to follow him. He leads us to a table between the bar and the front window. It’s an ideal spot for people watching and it’s as far from the other diners as he could get us without putting us in the kitchen. It’s a good choice from someone who isn’t sure about the dynamics here. It could be seen as a private spot if we were on a date, but as friends, it could also be seen as a prime spot due to being so close to the window. Guiseppe clearly knows his business well.

CHAPTER13

Serena

“Is this ok for you?” Guiseppe asks and both Wyatt and I nod our heads.

Guiseppe pulls out a chair and gestures for me to sit. I smile at him and sit down, and he tucks me in under the table.

“Thank you,” I say, pleased that he has chosen the seat with the best view of the window for me.

“You’re welcome. Ricardo will be along any moment with your menus. Can I take your drinks order?” Guiseppe said.

“I’ll have a soda and lime please,” Wyatt says, and all eyes are on me.

I debate getting a soda too. Wyatt is my boss after all, but we’re not in the office and it’s certainly not work hours and I think fuck it.

“Can I have a small white wine please?” I ask. “The house white is fine.”

“Of course,” Guiseppe says, and he moves away from the table.

“Aww he’s lovely,” I say when he’s out of ear shot.

“He is,” Wyatt agrees. “He has so much energy and nothing is ever too much trouble for him. Rosa is the same.”

“You must come here a lot,” I say. “For you all to be on first name terms I mean.”

“I do come here quite a lot,” Wyatt says. “I often grab a takeout even if I don’t want to dine in. But the funny thing is, we were on first name terms within minutes of me coming in the door the first time I came here. That’s just the sort of place it is. By the time I left that night, I felt like I was a part of their family. Of course, they’ll keep their distance more tonight.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

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