by Susan Meier
Mila paused by a table with two twentysomething American girls. Wearing thick sweaters and tight jeans, they couldn’t hide their tiny figures. Or their ages. Too old for college and too young to have amassed their own fortunes, they appeared to be the daughters of wealthy men, in Europe, spending their daddies’ money. Undoubtedly, they’d heard of him. Bored and perhaps interested in playing with a celebrity chef, they might be looking for some fun. If he handled this right, one of them could be sharing Chianti with him that night.
Ignoring the tweak of a reminder of sharing that wine with Dani, her favorite, he smiled broadly. “What can I do for you ladies?”
“Your ravioli sucked.”
That certainly was not what he’d expected.
He bowed slightly, having learned a thing or two from his former hostess. He ignored the sadness that shot through him at even the thought of her, and said, “Allow me to cover your bill.”
“Cover our bill?” The tiny blonde lifted a ravioli with her fork and let it plop to her plate. “You should pay us for enduring even a bite of this drivel.”
The dough of that ravioli had serenaded his palms as he worked it. The sweet sauce had kissed his tongue. The problem wasn’t his food but the palates of the diners.
Still, remembering Dani, he held his temper as he gently reached down and took the biceps of the blonde. “My apologies.” He subtly guided her toward the door. The woman was totally cooperative until they got to the podium, and then she squirmed as if he was hurting her, and made a hideous face. Her friend snapped a picture with her phone.
“Get it on Instagram!” the blonde said as they raced out the door. “Rafe Mancini sinks to new lows!”
Furious, Rafe ran after them, but they jumped into their car and peeled out of his parking lot before he could catch them.
After a few well-aimed curses, he counted to forty. Great. Just when he thought rumors of his temper had died, two spoiled little girls were about to resurrect them.
He returned to the quiet dining room. Taking another page from Dani’s book, he said, “I’m sorry for the disturbance. Everyone, please, enjoy your meals.”
A few diners glanced down. One woman winced. A couple or two pretended to be deep in conversation, as if trying to avoid his misery.
With a weak smile, he walked into the kitchen, over to his workstation and picked up a knife.
Emory scrambled over and whispered, “You’re going to have to find her.”
Facing the wall, so no one could see, Rafe squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t have to ask who her was. The shifts Daniella had been gone had been awful. This was their first encounter with someone trying to lure out his temper, but there had been other problems. Squabbles among the waitresses. Seating mishaps. Lost reservations.
“Things are going wrong, falling through the cracks,” Emory continued.
“This is my restaurant. I will find and fix mistakes.”
“No. If there’s anything Dani taught us, it’s that you’re a chef. You are a businessman, yes. But you are not the guy who should be in the dining room. You are the guy who should be trotted out for compliments. You are the special chef made more special by the fact that you must be enticed out to the dining room.”
He laughed, recognizing he liked the sound of that because he did like to feel special. Or maybe he liked feeling that his food was special.
“Did you ever stop to think that you don’t have a temper with the customers or the staff when Dani’s around?”
He didn’t even try to deny it. With the exception of being on edge because of his attraction to her, his temperament had improved considerably. “Yes.”
Emory chuckled as if surprised by his easy acquiescence. “Because she does the tasks that you aren’t made to do, which frees you up to do the things you like to do. So, let’s just bring her back.”
Missing Dani was about so, so much more than Emory knew. Not just a loss of menial tasks but a comfort level. It was as if she brought sunshine into the room. Into his life. But she was engaged.
“Why should I go after her?” Rafe finally faced Emory. “She is returning to America in two weeks.”
“Maybe we can persuade her to stay?”
He sniffed a laugh. Leaning down so that only Emory would hear, he said, “She has a fiancé in New York.”
Emory’s features twisted into a scowl. “And she’s in Italy? For months? Without him? Doesn’t sound like much of a fiancé to me.”
That brought Rafe up short. There was no way in hell he’d let the woman he loved stay alone in Italy for months. Especially not if the woman he loved was Daniella.
He didn’t tell Emory that. His reasoning was mixed up in feelings that he wasn’t supposed to have. He’d gone the route of a relationship once. He’d given up apprenticeships to please Kamila. Which meant he’d given up his dream for her. And still they hadn’t made it.
But he’d learned a lesson. Relationships only put the future of his restaurants at stake, so he satisfied himself with one-night stands.
Dani would not be a one-night stand.
But Mancini’s really wasn’t fine without her.
And Mancini’s was his dream. He needed Daniella at his restaurant way too much to break his own rule about relationships. And that was the real bottom line. Getting involved with her would risk his dream as much as Kamila had. He needed her as an employee and he needed to put everything else out of his mind.
Emory caught Rafe’s arm. “Maybe there is an opportunity here. If she’s truly unhappy, especially with her fiancé, you might be able to convince her Mancini’s should be her new career.”
That was exactly what Rafe intended to do.
“But you can’t have that discussion over the phone. You need to go to Palazzo di Comparino tomorrow. Talk to her personally. Make your case. Offer her money.”
“Okay. I’ll be out tomorrow morning, maybe all day if I need the time. You handle things while I’m gone.”
Emory grinned. “That’s my boy.”
* * *
At the crack of dawn the next morning, Louisa woke Dani and said she was ready to take the bus back to Monte Calanetti. She was happy to have met Dani’s foster mom’s relatives, but she was nervous, antsy about Palazzo di Comparino. It was time to go back.
After grabbing coffee at a nearby bistro, Dani walked her friend to the bus station, then spent the day with her foster mother’s family. By late afternoon, she left, also restless. Like Louisa, she’d loved meeting the Felice family, but they weren’t her family. Her family was the little group of restaurant workers at Mancini’s.
Saddened, she began the walk back to her hotel. A block before she reached it, she passed the bistro again. Though the day was crisp, it was sunny. Warm in the rays that poured down on a little table near the sidewalk, she sat.
She ordered coffee, telling herself it wasn’t odd that she felt a connection to the staff at Mancini’s. They were nice people. Personable. Passionate. Of course, she felt as if they were family. She’d mothered the waitresses, babied the customers and fallen for Emory like a favorite uncle.
But she’d never see any of them again. She’d been fired from Mancini’s. Rafe hated her. She wouldn’t go home happy, satisfied to have met Rosa’s relatives, because the connection she’d made had been to a totally different set of people. She would board her plane depressed. Saddened. Returning to a man who didn’t even want to pick her up at the airport. A man whose marriage proposal she was going to have to refuse.
A street vendor caught her arm and handed her a red rose.
Surprised, she looked at him, then the rose, then back at him again. “Grazie...I think.”
He grinned. “It’s not from me. It’s from that gentleman over there.” He pointed behind him.
Dani’s eyes widened when she saw Rafe leaning against a lamppost. Wearing jeans, a tight T-shirt and the waist-length black wool coat that he’d worn to the tavern, he looked sexy. But also alone. Very alone. The way she felt
in the pit of her stomach when she thought about going back to New York.
Her gaze fell to the rose. Red. For passion. But with someone like Rafe who was a bundle of passion about his restaurant, about his food, about his customers, the color choice could mean anything.
Carrying the rose, she got up from her seat and walked over to him. “How did you find me?”
“Would you believe I guessed where you were?”
“That would have to be a very lucky guess.”
He sighed. “I talked to your roommate, Louisa, this afternoon. She told me where you were staying, and I drove to Rome. Walking to your hotel, I saw you here, having coffee.”
He glanced away. “Look, can we talk?” He shoved his hands tightly into the side pockets of his coat and returned his gaze to hers. “We’ve missed you.”
“We?”
She almost cursed herself for the question. But she needed to hear him say it so she’d know she wasn’t crazy, getting feelings for a guy who found it so easy to fire her.
“I’ve missed you.” He sighed. “Two trust-fund babies faked me out the other night. They insulted my food and when they couldn’t get a rise out of me, they made it look like I was tossing one out on her ear to get a picture for Instagram.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Instagram?”
“It’s the bane of my existence.”
“But you hadn’t lost your temper?”
He shook his head and glanced away. “No. I hadn’t.” He looked back at her. “I remembered some things you’d done.” He smiled. “I learned.”
Her heart picked up at the knowledge that he’d learned from her, and the thrill that he was here, that he’d missed her. “You’re not a bad guy.”
His face twisted around a smile he clearly tried to hide. “According to Emory, I’m just an overworked guy. And interviewing for a new maître d’ isn’t helping. Especially when no one I talk to fits. It’s why I need you. You’re the first person to take over the dining room well enough that I don’t worry.”
She counted to ten, breathlessly waiting for him to expand on that. When he didn’t, she said, “And that’s all it is?”
“I know you want there to be something romantic between us. But there are things that separate us. Not just your fiancé, but my temperament. Really? Could you see yourself happy with me? Or when you look at me, do you see a man who takes what he wants and walks away? Because that’s the man I really am. I put my restaurant first. I have no time for a relationship.”
Her heart wept at what he said. But her sensible self, the lonely foster child who didn’t trust the wash of feelings that raced through her every time she got within two feet of him, understood. He was a gorgeous man, born for the limelight, looking to make a name for himself. She was a foster kid, looking for a home. Peace. Quiet. Security. They might be physically attracted, but, emotionally, they were totally wrong for each other. No matter how drawn she was to him, she knew the truth as well as he did.
“You can’t commit?”
He shook his head. “My commitment is to Mancini’s. To my career. My reputation. I want to be one of Europe’s famed chefs. Mancini’s is my stepping stone. I do not have time for what other men want. A woman on their arm. Fancy parties. Marriage. To me those are irrelevant. All I want is success. So I would hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Which makes anything between us just business?”
“Just business.”
Her job at Mancini’s had awakened feelings in Dani she’d never experienced. Self-worth. A sense of place. An unshakable belief that she belonged there. And the click of connection that made her feel she had a home. Something deep inside her needed Mancini’s. But she wouldn’t go back only to be fired again.
“And you need me?”
He rolled his eyes. “You Americans. Why must you be showered with accolades?”
Oh, he did love to be gruff.
She slid her hand into the crook of his elbow and pointed to her table at the bistro. “I don’t need accolades. I need acknowledgment of my place at Mancini’s...and my coffee. I’m freezing.”
He pulled his arm away from her hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. She knew he meant it only as a gesture between friends, but she felt his warmth seep through to her. Longing tugged at her heart. A fierce yearning that clung and wouldn’t let go.
“You should wear a heavier coat.”
His voice was soft, intimate, sending the feeling of rightness through her again.
“It was warm when I came here.”
“And now it is cold. So from here on I will make sure you wear a bigger coat.” He paused. His head tilted. “Maybe you need me, too?”
She did. But not in the way he thought. She wanted him to love her. Really love her. But to be the man of her dreams, he would have to be different. To be warm and loving. To want her—
And he might. Today. But he’d warned her that anything he felt for her was temporary. He couldn’t commit. He didn’t want to commit. And unless she wanted to get her heart broken, she had to really hear what he was saying. If she was going to get the opportunity to go back to the first place in her life that felt like home, Mancini’s, and the first people who genuinely felt like family, his staff, then a romance between them had to be out of the question.
“I need Mancini’s. I like it there. I like the people.”
“Ah. So we agree.”
“I guess. All I know for sure is that I don’t want to go back to New York yet.”
He laughed. They reached her table and he pulled out her chair for her. “That doesn’t speak well of your fiancé.”
Hauling in a breath, she sat, but she said nothing. Her stretching of the truth to Rafe about Paul being her fiancé sat in her stomach like a brick. Still, even though she knew she was going to reject his marriage proposal, it protected her and Rafe. Rafe wouldn’t go after another man’s woman. Not even for a fling. And he was right. If they had a fling, she would be crushed when he moved on.
One of his eyebrows rose, as he waited for her reply.
She decided they needed her stretched truth. But she couldn’t out-and-out lie. “All right. Paul is not the perfect guy.”
“I’m not trying to ruin your relationship. I simply believe you should think all of this through. You have a place here in Italy. Mancini’s needs you. I would like for you to stay in Italy and work for me permanently, and if you decide to, then maybe your fiancé should be coming here.”
She laughed. Really? Paul move to Italy because of her? He wouldn’t even drive to the airport for her.
Still, she didn’t want Paul in the discussion of her returning to Mancini’s. She’d already decided to refuse his proposal. If she stayed in Italy, it had to be for her reasons.
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I have a few weeks before I have to make any decisions.”
“Two weeks and two days.”
“Yes.”
He caught her hands. Kissed the knuckles. “So stay. Stay with me, Daniella. Be the face of Mancini’s.”
Her heart kicked against her ribs. The way he said “Stay with me, Daniella” froze her lungs, heated her blood. She glanced at the red rose sitting on the table, reminded herself it didn’t mean anything but a way to break the ice when he found her. He wasn’t asking her to stay for any reason other than her abilities in his restaurant. And she shouldn’t want to stay for any reason other than the job. If she could prove herself in the next two weeks, she wouldn’t be boarding a plane depressed. She wouldn’t be boarding a plane at all. She’d be helping to run a thriving business. Her entire life would change.
She pulled her hands away. “I can’t accept Louisa’s hospitality forever. I need to be able to support myself. Hostessing doesn’t pay much.”
He growled.
She laughed. He was so strong and so handsome and so perfect that when he let his guard down and was himself, his real self, with her, everything inside her filled with crazy
joy. And maybe if she just focused on making him her friend, a friend she could keep forever, working for him could be fun.
“I can’t pay a hostess an exorbitant salary.”
“So give me a title to justify the money.”
He sighed. “A title?”
“Sure, something like general manager should warrant a raise big enough that I can afford my own place.”
His eyes widened. “General manager?”
“Come on, Rafe. Let’s get to the bottom line here. If things work out when we return to Mancini’s, I’m going to be taking on a huge chunk of your work. I’m also going to be relocating to another country. You’ll need to make it worth my while.”
He shook his head. “Dear God, you are bossy.”
“But I’m right.”
He sighed. “Fine. But if you’re getting that title, you will earn it.”
She inclined her head. “Seems fair.”
“You’ll learn to order supplies, check deliveries, do the job of managing things Emory and I don’t have time for.”
“Makes perfect sense.”
He sighed. His eyes narrowed. “Anything else?”
She laughed. “One more thing.” Her laughter became a silly giggle when he scowled at her. “A ride back to Louisa’s.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I will drive you back to Louisa’s. If you wish, I will even help you find an apartment.”
Leaving the rose, she stood and pushed away from the table. “You keep getting ahead of things. We have two weeks for me to figure out if staying at Mancini’s is right for me.” She turned to head back to the hotel to check out, but spun to face him again. “Were I you, I’d be on my best behavior.”
* * *
The next morning, she called Paul. If staying in Italy was the rest of her life, the real rest of her life, she had to make things right.
“Do you know what time it is?”
She could hear the sleep in his voice and winced. “Yes. Sorry. But I wanted to catch you before work.”
“That’s fine.”
