The Playboy of Rome (2 page)

Once the kitchen was again humming along, he retraced his steps just far enough to catch a glimpse of the blonde bombshell. She moved about on those high-heeled boots as if they were a natural extension of her long legs. He swallowed hard as his eyes followed her around the dining room. He assured himself that he was just doing his duty by checking up on her.

When she smiled and chatted with a couple of older gentlemen, Dante’s gut tightened. She sure seemed far more at ease with those men than when he’d been talking with her. How strange. Usually he didn’t have a problem making conversation with the female gender. Lizzie was certainly different. Too bad she wouldn’t be around long enough to learn more about her. She intrigued him.

* * *

Obviously there was a misunderstanding.

Lizzie Addler frowned as she locked the front door of Ristorante Massimo. She hadn’t flown from New York to Italy to be a hostess. She was here to work in the kitchen—to learn from the legendary chef, Massimo Bianco. And to film a television segment to air on the culinary channel’s number-one-rated show. It was a dream come true.

The strange thing was she’d flown in two days early, hoping to get her bearings in this new country. How in the world did this Dante know she was going to show up this evening?

It was impossible. But then again, this smooth-talking man seemed to know who she was. So why put her on hostess duty when he knew that her true talents lay in the kitchen?

Her cheeks ached from smiling so much, but all it took was recalling Dante’s flattering words and the corners of her lips lifted once again. She’d heard rumors that Italian men were known to be charmers and now that she knew that it was true—at least in Dante’s case—she’d have to be careful around him. She couldn’t lose focus on her mission here.

She leaned her back against the door and sighed. She couldn’t remember the last time her feet ached this much. Why in the world had she decided to wear her new boots today of all days?

Oh, yes, to make a good impression. And technically the boots weren’t new—just new to her. They were secondhand, like all of Lizzie’s things. But in her defense, some of her things still had the tags on them when she’d found them at the gently used upscale boutique. And boy, was she thankful she’d splurged on the stylish clothes.

Her gaze strayed to the wall full of framed pictures of celebrities. There were black and whites as well as color photos through the years. Massimo was in a lot of them alongside movie stars, singers and politicians from around the world. As Lizzie scanned the many snapshots, she found Dante’s handsome face. In each photo of him, he was smiling broadly with his arm around a beautiful woman.

“Pretty impressive?”

She knew without looking that it’d be Dante. “Very impressive.” She forced her gaze to linger on the army of photos instead of rushing to ogle the tall, dark and undeniably handsome man at her side. “Have all of these people eaten here?”

“Yes. And there are more photos back in the office. We ran out of space out here.” His voice was distinguishable with its heavy Italian accent. The rich tones flowed through her as seductively as crème brûlée. “We should add your photo.”

“Me.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “But I’m a nobody.”

“You, my dear, are definitely not a nobody.” His gaze met hers and heat rushed to her cheeks. “Is everything wrapped up out here?”

Her mouth went dry and she struggled to swallow. “Yes...yes, the last customer just left.”

Lines of exhaustion etched the tanned skin around his dark eyes. His lips were lifted in a friendly smile, but something told her that it was all for her benefit and that he didn’t feel like doing anything but calling it a night.

“I can’t thank you enough for your help this evening.” His gaze connected with hers, making her pulse spike. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your pay so that you can be on your way. If you would just wait a moment.”

Before she could formulate words, he turned and headed to the back of the restaurant. Pay her? For what? Playing hostess for the evening? She supposed that was above and beyond her contract negotiations with the television network.

Dante quickly returned and placed some euros in her hand. His fingers were warm as the backs of his fingers brushed over her palm, causing her stomach to quiver. She quickly pulled her hand away.

“Thank you so much. You truly were a lifesaver.” He moved to the door to let her out.

She didn’t follow him. She wasn’t done here. Not by a long shot. “I’m not leaving. Not yet.”

Dante shot her a puzzled look. “If this is about the money, this is the amount I told Luigi I was willing to pay—”

Lizzie shook her head. “It’s not that. I came here to meet with Chef Massimo.”

“You did? You mean Luigi didn’t send you?”

“I don’t know any Luigi.”

Dante reached in his pocket and pulled out his smartphone. A few keystrokes later, he glanced up. “My mistake. Luigi wasn’t able to find anyone to help out. Thank goodness you showed up.”

“And I was happy to help. Now if you could introduce me to Chef Massimo.”

Dante’s forehead creased. “That’s not going to happen.” His tone was firm and unbendable. “He’s not here. You’ll have to deal with me.”

“I don’t think so. I’ll wait for him.”

Dante rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “You’ll be waiting a long time. Chef Massimo is out of town.”

“Listen, I know I’m here a couple of days ahead of time, but we do have an agreement to meet.”

“That’s impossible.” Dante’s shoulders straightened and his expression grew serious. “I would have known. I know about everything that has to do with this place.”

“Obviously not in this case.” Lizzie pressed her lips together, immediately regretting her outburst. She was tired after her long flight and then having to work all evening as a hostess.

“You’re obviously mixed up. You should be going.” He pulled open the front door, letting a cool evening breeze sweep inside and wrap around her.

She couldn’t leave. Her whole future was riding on this internship, and the money from participating in the upcoming cooking show would pay for her sister’s grad school. She couldn’t let her down. She’d promised Jules that if she got accepted to graduate school she’d make sure there was money for the tuition. Jules had already had so many setbacks in her life that Lizzie refused to fail her.

She stepped up to Dante, and even though she was wearing heeled boots, she still had to tilt her chin upward to look him in the eyes. “I did you a big favor tonight. The least you can do is hear me out.”

Dante let the door swing shut and led her back to the dining room, where he pulled out a chair for her before he took a seat across the table. “I’m listening.”

Lizzie wished it wasn’t so late in the evening. Dante looked wiped out, not exactly the optimal position to gain his understanding. Still, she didn’t have any other place to go.

Her elbows pressed down on the white linen tablecloth as she folded her hands together. “Chef Massimo has agreed to mentor me.”

Dante’s gaze narrowed in on her. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Why should you know about it? My agreement isn’t with you.”

“Massimo Bianco is my maternal grandfather. And with him away, I’m running this place.”

This man wasn’t about to give an inch, at least not easily. “When will he return so we can straighten things out?”

Dante leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. His dark eyes studied her. She’d love to know what he was thinking. Then again, maybe not. The past couple of days had been nothing but a blur. She’d rushed to wrap up her affairs in New York City before catching a transatlantic flight. The last thing she’d wanted to do was play hostess, but she figured she’d be a good sport. After all, Dante seemed to be in a really tight spot. But now she didn’t understand why he was being so closemouthed about Massimo.

“All you need to know is that my grandfather won’t be returning. So any business you have with him, you’ll have to deal with me. Tell me about this agreement.”

Uneasiness crept down her spine. This man had disbelief written all over his handsome features. But what choice did she have but to deal with him since she had absolutely no idea how to contact Chef Massimo? The only phone number she had was for this restaurant. And the email had also been for the restaurant.

“The agreement is for him to mentor me for the next two months.”

Dante shook his head. “It isn’t going to happen. I’m sorry you traveled all of this way for nothing. But you’ll have to leave now.”

Lizzie hadn’t flown halfway around the globe just to be turned away—she’d been rejected too many times in her life. Her reasons for being here ran deeper than appearing on the television show. She truly wanted to learn from the best and Massimo Bianco was a renowned chef, whose name on her résumé would carry a lot of weight in the culinary world.

“Surely you could use the extra help.” After what she’d witnessed this evening, she had no doubt about it.

“If not for this virus going around, Massimo’s would be fully staffed. We don’t have room for someone else in the kitchen.”

“Obviously Chef Bianco doesn’t agree with your assessment. He assured me there would be a spot for me.”

Dante’s eyes darkened. “He was mistaken. And now that I’ve heard you out, I must insist that you leave.”

These days she proceeded cautiously and was always prepared. She reached in her oversize purse and pulled out the signed document. “You can’t turn me away.”

When she held out a copy of the contract, Dante’s dark brows rose. Suddenly he didn’t look as in charge as he had just a few seconds ago. Funny how a binding legal document could change things so quickly.

When he reached for the papers, their fingers brushed. His skin was warm and surprisingly smooth. Their gazes met and held. His eyes were dark and mysterious. Instead of being intimidated by him, she was drawn to him.

Not that she was in Italy to have a summer romance. She had a job to do and this man was standing between her and her future. He may be stubborn, but he’d just met his match.

CHAPTER TWO

W
HAT
WAS
IT
about this woman that had him feeling off-kilter?

Could it be the way her touch sent currents of awareness up his arm? Realizing they were still touching, Dante jerked his hand away. He clenched his fingers, creasing the hefty document.

Or maybe it was those cool blue eyes of hers that seemed to study his every move. It was as though she could see more of him than he cared for anyone to observe. Not that he had any secrets to hide—well, other than his plans to sell the
ristorante
.

His gaze scrolled over the first lines of the document, pausing when he saw his grandfather’s name followed by Ristorante Massimo. He continued skimming over the legalese until his gaze screeched to a halt at the mention of a television show. His gut twisted into a knot. This was much more involved than he’d ever imagined.

“You said this was for an internship. You didn’t mention anything about a television show.”

Her lips moved but nothing came out. It was as though she wasn’t sure exactly how to proceed. If she thought he was going to make this easy for her, she’d have to think again. She’d tried to get him to agree to let her work here under false pretenses when in fact she had much bigger plans.

When she didn’t respond fast enough, he added, “How long were you planning to keep that little bit of information a secret?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Obviously I wasn’t keeping it a secret or I wouldn’t have handed you the contract.”

She had a valid point, but it didn’t ease his agitation. He once again rubbed at his stiff neck. It’d been an extremely long day. Not only was he short-staffed but also the meeting with the potential buyers for the
ristorante
hadn’t gone well. They didn’t just want the building. They also wanted the name and the secret recipes that put his grandfather’s name up there with the finest chefs.

Dante didn’t have the right to sell those recipes—recipes that went back to his grandmother’s time. They were special to his grandfather. Still, selling them would keep them alive for others to enjoy instead of them being forgotten in a drawer. But could he actually approach his grandfather and ask for the right to sell them? Those recipes were his grandfather’s pride and joy. In fact, employees signed a nondisclosure agreement to maintain the secrecy of Massimo’s signature dishes. The thought of selling out left a sour taste in Dante’s mouth.

“As you can see in the contract, the television crew will be here on Tuesday.” Her words brought Dante back to his latest problem.

“I also see that you’ve arrived a couple of days early.” He wasn’t sure what he meant by that statement. He was stalling. Thinking.

“I like to be prepared. I don’t like surprises. So I thought I’d get settled in and maybe see some of the sights in Rome. I’ve heard it’s a lovely city.”

“Well, since my grandfather isn’t going to be able to mentor you, perhaps you can have an extended holiday before heading back to—”

“New York. And I didn’t come here for a vacation. I came here to work and to learn.” She got to her feet. “Maybe I should just speak with one of the people in the kitchen. Perhaps they can point me in the direction of your grandfather.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

His grandfather didn’t need to be bothered with this—he had more important issues to deal with at the moment. Dante could and would handle this woman. After all, there had to be a way out of this. Without reading the rest of the lengthy details, he flipped to the last page.

“It’s all signed and legal, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her voice held a note of confidence, and she sat back down.

She was right. Right there in black and white was his grandfather’s distinguished signature. There was no denying the slope of the
M
or the scroll of
Bianco
. Dante resisted the urge to ball up the document and toss it into the stone fireplace across the room from them. Not that it would help since the fire had been long ago extinguished.