"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 myattention, 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?
