Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65987 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
"What does Valentina have to do with anything?" I asked, my voice deliberately neutral.
"Nothing," Marcus shrugged. "That's the point. Blue Belle is nothing like Valentina. She's the perfect palate cleanser after spending years in bed with a shark."
I couldn't argue with that assessment. Where Valentina had been calculated ambition wrapped in designer clothing, Belle was... different. Genuine in a way that had become foreign in my world. Her awkwardness should have irritated me. Instead, I found it strangely compelling.
"Belle has excellent taste," I said, reaching for my glass again. "Her insights would be valuable for the new menu."
"Sure," Marcus nodded, not bothering to hide his amusement. "Her taste. That's what you're interested in."
I chose to ignore the jab, though the phrase, “among other things”, hung in the air between us. Women had been throwing themselves at me since I was twenty. Some wanted my money, others my power, a few just wanted the bragging rights of bedding a Luca. Belle might pretend to be different, but underneath that wide-eyed innocence, she wanted something too. They all did. "So when is she coming up?" I asked, glancing at my watch.
Marcus cleared his throat, suddenly finding the bottom of his empty glass fascinating.
My eyes narrowed. "Marcus."
"She refused," he said simply, meeting my gaze with unexpected directness.
"What?" The word fell between us like a stone.
"She said, and I quote, 'Please thank Mr. Luca for his invitation, but I don't think it's best for me to see him outside of work.'" Marcus's expression was carefully neutral now, all traces of his earlier amusement hidden. "She was very polite about it."
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. When none came, I felt a strange heat crawl up my neck. "She refused."
"Yep."
"Me."
"Confounding, isn’t it?"
I moved away from the counter, needing to put physical distance between myself and this unexpected information. Women didn't refuse me. They pursued me, plotted to get my attention, manufactured reasons to cross my path. The fact was, if it hadn’t been for the fact Belle was aware of the expense of the alcohol she carried, or if she hadn’t had the visceral reaction she did when she realized I was the one she’d run into, I’d have suspected she’d set me up. But I actually saw the sweat erupt over her face the second she realized who I was. I saw the genuine reaction in her eyes. A woman trying to get my attention didn't decline personal invitations.
"Is this the first time a woman's ever refused to go on a date with you?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.
I turned sharply. "It wasn't a date."
"Of course not," Marcus agreed, though his tone suggested otherwise.
"It wasn't," I insisted, annoyed at my own defensiveness. "It's a professional tasting."
"Right."
I paced the length of the room, my mind racing. This made no sense. I'd seen how she looked at me that night with the spilled whiskey, felt the unmistakable charge between us when I'd bandaged her hand. Even when I’d caught her gaze across the room, that chemistry was there. Real. And now she was refusing to even be in the same room with me?
"Did she say why?" I asked, hating how much I suddenly needed to know.
Marcus hesitated. "Just what I told you. That she didn't think it was best."
"Best for who?" I demanded.
"She didn't elaborate."
I stopped pacing, a new thought striking me. "Valentina. Did Valentina speak to her?"
Marcus's expression shifted slightly. "Not that I'm aware of, but..."
"But what?"
"They were seen in the service corridor together the other night. Brief conversation. Belle looked upset afterward."
That explained it. Valentina had poisoned the well, fed Belle some twisted version of our history designed to keep her away from me. The realization should have cooled my interest. Instead, it only intensified my determination.
"Go tell Belle this isn't optional," I said, my voice dropping to the tone I used when I expected absolute obedience. "The tasting is part of her duties as a member of my staff. She needs to understand what she’s serving."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You're ordering her to spend time with you?"
Put that way, it sounded desperate and more than a little controlling. Things I wasn't. "I'm ordering her to do her job," I corrected. "If she's going to serve these drinks, she should know what's in them."
"Because you're so concerned about the education of your waitstaff," Marcus said dryly.
"Just go get her," I snapped.
Marcus held my gaze for a long moment before a laugh burst from him, genuine and unrestrained. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day Dario Luca resorted to pulling rank to get a woman's attention."
"Are you done?" I asked coldly.
"For now," he replied, still chuckling as he headed toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "What if she still refuses?"
The question caught me off guard. What would I do? Force her compliance and risk destroying whatever spark existed between us? Or accept her rejection and wonder what might have been?