Marcus stared at me for a beat before laughing outright, the sound filling my quiet office. "You're really going to pull rank? Force her to spend time with you? Oh, and by the way, you really need to come up with a different excuse. Not because just because it sounds like a piss poor excuse, but because itisa piss poor excuse."
When he put it like that, it sounded petty and controlling. Perhaps it was. But I'd built an empire by pursuing what I wanted with single-minded determination, by refusing to accept obstacles or detours. Belle's rejection was just another obstacle to overcome.
"It's a legitimate business reason," I insisted, leaning back in my chair. "Other high-end establishments conduct tastings with their staff."
"True," Marcus conceded, still looking amused. "But they usually involve more than one staff member. And usually not the waitstaff.”
I waved a hand impatiently. "Fine. Invite Sophia too if it makes Belle more comfortable."
"And how long into the tasting before you find a reason to send Sophia away?" Marcus asked knowingly.
I didn't answer, instead glaring at my friend and bodyguard. Which was answer enough.
Marcus stood up, shaking his head. "You know, for a man who's built his reputation on calculating every move, you're being remarkably transparent right now."
"Just go get her," I said, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his words. "Tell her whatever you need to, but get her here for the tasting tomorrow."
"As you wish, boss." Marcus headed for the door. "But consider this. Maybe she'd be more interested if you weren't trying to command her presence like you order everything else in your life."
The suggestion lingered in the air after he left. I turned back to the window, watching the city below. Marcus had a point, though I was reluctant to admit it. My usual tactics might not work with Belle. I might even push her further away.
But I'd never been good at asking for things I wanted. In my world, you took what you wanted or you went without. The middle ground of persuasion, of earning someone's willing participation, was unfamiliar territory.
The fact that I was essentially manipulating her into spending time with me didn't sit as well as it should have. But I pushed the discomfort aside. After all, I always got what I wanted, eventually. Even if my methods could be somewhat questionable.
Chapter Eight
Belle
I stood outside the heavy wooden door, my hand hovering over the handle. The simple dress I'd chosen that morning suddenly felt inadequate for this meeting with Dario Luca. I smoothed non-existent wrinkles from the fabric and took a steadying breath. This was just a professional tasting, I reminded myself. I had desperately wanted to talk to Sophia before this meeting, but she’d left to visit her family for the rest of the week. I’d refused twice, yet I still managed to find myself outside the private room I’d been shown to. Presumably, Dario Luca was inside. With one final deep breath, I knocked.
"Come in." His voice, even muffled by the door, carried an authority that made my stomach flip.
I pushed the door open, stepping into a space that felt worlds away from the service corridors and bustling main floor ofThe Graywhere I usually worked. Afternoon sunlight streamed through partially frosted windows, casting golden rectangles across polished mahogany and gleaming crystal. The privatetasting room was smaller than I'd imagined, more intimate, with a curved bar dominating one wall and a few leather chairs arranged near the windows. Everything from the precisely arranged bottles to the perfectly aligned glassware spoke of meticulous attention to detail.
And in the center of it all stood Dario Luca, his tailored suit as impeccable as always, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the light. His blue gaze assessed me with a coolness that made me second-guess my decision to come.
"You're punctual," he said, glancing at his watch. "I appreciate that in my staff."
Staff. Right. That's what I was. An employee. Not someone worthy of the personal attention he'd shown me when I'd cut my hand. I wrapped my arms around myself, creating as much of an emotional shield as I could. I had to remember what Valentina had said. She might be a vindictive bitch, but she wasn’t wrong. Men like Dario Luca ate women like me for breakfast. And not in a good way.
"Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Luca," I said, striving to keep my voice steady. "Mr. Longmire explained this would be helpful for my work atThe Gray."
I'd debated all night whether to accept this invitation. After Valentina's warnings, after the rumors already circulating among the staff about why Dario had helped me with my injury, the last thing I needed was more fuel for gossip. But refusing a direct request from the owner seemed like career suicide, especially when Mr. Longmire had emphasized how unusual it was to be included in such a tasting. Even if I was just a server.
"Please, come in," Dario gestured toward the bar where an array of bottles and glasses awaited. "And call me Dario."
I hesitated, still lingering near the door. The room suddenly felt too small, too private. But I forced myself forward, my heelsclicking softly on the hardwood floor. And yeah. No way I was calling him by his first name.
"Mr. Longmire mentioned I should take notes," I said, raising a small notebook slightly.
"If you'd like." He moved behind the bar, and I felt a small measure of relief at having that barrier between us. "We're testing our new seasonal menu before it launches in early spring. Seven cocktails total, starting with lighter flavors and moving toward more complex ones."
I settled onto one of the barstools, perching on the edge rather than leaning comfortably against the backrest. My notebook lay open before me, blank pages ready for notes I wasn't sure I'd be able to concentrate enough to take. Not only was I incredibly nervous, but I was uncomfortable, mainly because, being this close to Mr. Luca, there was no way I could separate my infatuation enough to get through this.
Before I could excuse myself and leave, he slid a drink in front of me. "This first one is a spring variation on a classic gin fizz," Dario explained, his movements precise as he prepared the cocktail. "Lavender-infused gin, house lemon cordial, egg white, and a dash of violet liqueur."
The tall, elegant glass before me contained a pale lavender crowned with white foam. A tiny purple flower floated on top, so delicate it might have been painted there. "It’s beautiful," I said, not reaching for the glass. “You know, I’m not sure I really need to be here, Mr. Luca.”
