I watch her slide into her seat, the fabric of her dress riding up just enough to reveal more of those legs. My mind wanders to how they'd feel pressed against my sides, how she'd taste when I?—
Stop. Focus on the threat, not the packaging.
I'm not some horny teenager who can't control himself.
I'm Don Damiano fucking Feretti.
I run half of New York.
I realize I've forgotten my manners. Family business has made me rusty with social niceties.
"This is my brother, Enzo Feretti," I say, nodding toward him. "He handles our financial operations."
Enzo gives them his practiced business smile and shakes both their hands. "A pleasure to meet you both."
The sommelier approaches with the wine I've selected, presenting the bottle with practiced elegance. "Barolo Monfortino Riserva, 2010," he announces.
I nod my approval, watching as he uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount for me to taste. The rich aroma of cherries, roses, and subtle oak rises from the glass. I swirl, inhale, then take a measured sip, letting the complex flavors unfold across my tongue.
"Excellent," I murmur, and the sommelier proceeds to fill our glasses.
Zoe watches the ritual with quiet interest. When herglass is filled, she lifts it with practiced grace, inhaling before taking a small sip.
"You appreciate fine wine, Mr. Feretti?" she asks, her eyes fixing on me over the rim of her glass.
"I do." I hold her gaze. "This particular vintage comes from a small vineyard in Piedmont. The family has been making wine for six generations."
"And how did you discover it?" she presses, clearly fishing for personal information.
I take another sip before answering. "I travel to Italy frequently. Business and pleasure often intersect there." I deflect and pivot. "I understand you spent time in Florence? What drew you to study there?"
She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "The art, the history, the language. I've always been fascinated by Italian culture."
"È stata un'esperienza che ha cambiato la tua vita?" I ask, testing her.Was it an experience that changed your life?
Without hesitation, she replies in perfect Italian, "Assolutamente. Mi ha insegnato a vedere il mondo in modo diverso."Absolutely. It taught me to see the world differently.
Her accent is flawless – not the stilted formality of a classroom learner but the natural cadence of someone who has lived the language.
"Your Italian is exceptional," I say before I can stop myself. "Most Americans butcher it beyond recognition."
The compliment hangs in the air between us, unexpected and genuine. I hadn't meant to give her anything real, yet here we are.
She blinks, surprise flitting across her features before that practiced poise returns. "Grazie, Signor Feretti. I had excellent teachers."
Byron clears his throat, cutting through the momentbetween me and Zoe. He's been watching our exchange like a hawk.
"I appreciate the pleasantries, Mr. Feretti," Byron says, setting his wine glass down. "But perhaps we should address the reason for this dinner. Have you reconsidered my proposal regarding an arrangement between yourself and my daughter?"
The old man wastes no time getting to business. Typical. I lean back slightly, studying him.
"Mr. Easton," I say, deliberately using his formal name, "I believe we should enjoy our meal first. Business discussions are better suited for after dinner, don't you agree?" I gesture to the menus. "Marea's seafood is exceptional."
Apparently he's used to people jumping when he speaks.
"Of course," he says with a thin smile. "Though I'd appreciate knowing if my trip here tonight will be productive."
I take my time with another sip of wine before answering.
