The Playboy of Rome. Jennifer Faye
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pecorino romano gave the pasta a unique, tangy flavor. It was a dish he never grew tired of eating.
He proceeded to divvy the food between two plates. After all, he didn’t need that much to eat at this late hour. As he arranged the plates, he wondered why he was going to such bother. What was so special about this golden-haired beauty? And why did he feel a compulsion to prove himself where she was concerned?
It wasn’t as if he was ever going to see Lizzie again. Without his grandfather around to hold up his end of the agreement, she’d be catching the next plane back to New York. Still, before she left, he needed to prove his point. He’d taken some of his grandfather’s recipes and put his own twist on them. And the patrons loved them. This meal was sure not to disappoint the most discerning palate.
He strode back into the dining room and placed a plate in front of Lizzie. She gazed up at him with a wide-eyed blue gaze. Her mouth gaped as though she were about to say something, but no words came out.
He stared at her lush lips, painted with a shimmery pink frost. They looked perfectly ripe for a kiss. The urge grew stronger with each passing second. The breath hitched in his throat.
“This looks delicious.” She was staring at him, not the food. And she was smiling.
“It’s an old family recipe.” He nearly tripped over his own feet as he moved to the other side of the table. “The secret to the dish is to keep it simple and not be tempted to add extras. You don’t want to detract from the flavor of the meat and cheese.”
He couldn’t believe he was letting her good looks and charms get to him. It wasn’t as if she was the first beautiful woman he’d entertained. But she was the first that he truly wanted to impress. Safely in his seat, he noticed the smallness of the table. If he wasn’t careful, his legs would brush against hers. If this were a casual date, he’d take advantage of the coziness, but Lizzie was different from the usual women he dated. She was more serious. More intent. And she seemed to have only one thing on her mind—business.
“Aren’t you going to try it?” Dante motioned to the food. Just because he wasn’t interested in helping her with her dreams of stardom didn’t mean he couldn’t prove his point—he could create magic in the kitchen.
He watched as she spun the pasta on her fork and slipped it in her mouth. He sat there captivated, waiting for her reaction. When she moaned her approval, his blood pressure spiked and his grip tightened on the fork.
“This is very good. Did you make it?”
Her question didn’t fool him. He knew what she was digging at—she wanted him to step up and fill in for his grandfather. Him on television—never. That was his grandfather’s dream—not his.
“It’s delicious.” She flashed him a big smile, seemingly unfazed by his tight-lipped expression.
Her smile gave him a strange feeling in his chest that shoved him off center. And that wasn’t good. He didn’t want to be vulnerable to a woman. He knew for a fact that romance would ultimately lead to disaster—one way or the other.
He forced himself to eat because he hadn’t had time to since that morning and his body must be starved. But he didn’t really have an appetite. In fact, the food tasted like cardboard. Thankfully Lizzie seemed impressed with it.
When she’d cleaned her plate, she pushed it aside. “Thank you. I can’t wait for you to teach me how to make it.”
Dante still had a couple of bites left on his plate when he set his fork down and moved the plate aside. “That isn’t going to happen.”
“Maybe you should at least consider it.”
Her gaze strayed to the contract that was still sitting in the middle of the table and then back to him. What was she implying? That she’d drag him through the courts?
That was the last thing he needed. He already had enough important issues on his mind, including fixing his relationship with his family. And the closer it got to putting his signature on the sale papers, the more unsettled he’d become about his decision.
“You can’t expect me to fulfill my grandfather’s agreement.”
“Why not?” She smiled as though it would melt his resistance. Maybe under different circumstances it would have worked, but not now.
“Because I don’t want to be on television. I didn’t like it when those camera people were here before. All they did was get in the way and create a circus of onlookers wanting to get their faces on television.”
He didn’t bother to mention that he was just days away from closing a deal to sell Ristorante Massimo. But it all hinged on those family recipes. And somehow parting with those felt treasonous. His grandfather had signed the entire business over to him to do as he pleased, but still he couldn’t make this caliber of decision on his own.
But how did he approach his grandfather? How did he tell him that he felt restless again and without Massimo in the kitchen, it just wasn’t the same? It was time he moved on to find something that pacified the uneasiness in him.
He’d been toying with the thought of returning to the vineyard and working alongside his father and brother. After all of this time, perhaps he and his father could call a truce—perhaps Dante could in some small way try to make up for the loss and unhappiness his father had endured in the years since Dante’s mother had died. But was that even possible considering their strained relationship?
“It isn’t me you have to worry about.” Lizzie’s voice drew him back to the here and now. She toyed with the cloth napkin. “The television people will want to enforce the contract. They’re already advertising the segment on their station. I saw it before I left New York. Granted, we won’t have a show of our own. But we will have a daily spot on the most popular show on their station.”
He’d forgotten that there was a third party to this agreement. A television conglomerate would not be easily deterred from enforcing their rights. “But what makes you think that they would want me instead of my grandfather?”
“I take it your grandfather truly didn’t mention any of this to you?”
Dante shook his head. A sick feeling churned in the pit of his stomach.
“That’s strange. When he brought your name up to the television people, I thought for sure he’d discussed it with you.” She shrugged. “Anyway, they are eager to have you included in the segments. They think you’ll appeal to the younger viewers.”
Dante leaned his head back and expelled a weary sigh. Why hadn’t his grandfather mentioned any of this to him? Maybe Massimo just never got the chance. Regardless, this situation was going from bad to worse. What was next?
When Dante didn’t say anything, Lizzie continued, “I’m sure when I explain to them about your grandfather no longer being able to fulfill his role, they will welcome a young, handsome replacement.”
She thought he was handsome? He sat up a little straighter. “And if I don’t agree—”
“From what I read, there are monetary penalties for not fulfilling the contract. I’m not an attorney but you might want to have someone take a look at it.”
A court battle would only extend the time it would take to sell the ristorante. Not to mention scare off his potential buyer—the one with deep pockets and an interest in keeping Ristorante Massimo as is.
Dante’s gaze moved to the document. “Do you mind if I keep these papers for a little while?”
“That’s fine. It’s a copy.”
“I’ll get back to you on this.” He got to his feet. He had a lot to think over. It was time to call it a night.
“You’ll have to decide soon, as the film crew will be here in a couple of days.”
His back teeth ground together. Talk about finding everything out at the last minute. No matter his decision,