But even as we talked and laughed and Sam told increasingly ridiculous stories about his latest case, I couldn’t stop thinking about Archie. About the way he’d looked at me across that coffee table. And how, for the first time in three years, I felt that same flutter of anticipation I’d felt on the terrace.
And against every bit of common sense I had, I found myself looking forward to seeing him again.
CHAPTER 5
Archer
I stared at my phone,trying to figure out what kind of restaurant Gianna would actually enjoy, when I realized I had no idea what she liked.
Italian? Too presumptuous. French? Too formal. Japanese? Maybe—but which kind? Sushi, ramen, something else entirely?
I’d already made a reservation at Marea for Friday night. Michelin-starred, consistently excellent, the kind of place where you could actually have a conversation without shouting over music.
But sitting here now, reservation confirmed, I realized making assumptions about what Gianna wanted felt wrong. Maybe a Michelin-starred restaurant in Midtown would make her uncomfortable instead of impressed.
I needed to know more about her.
The business meeting with Hector was scheduled for this afternoon. He was expanding one of his restaurants, needed legal consultation on the property acquisition. I could ask him then. Casually. Just gathering information about a former employee.
My phone buzzed with a text from Jake.
Jake
Drinks tonight?
I texted a quick response telling him we will see if my schedule allowed it.
Hector’s office was in Tribeca, above his flagship restaurant.
His assistant waved me through without announcement; I’d been here enough times that formality felt unnecessary.
The office itself was all windows and clean lines. Furniture that looked simple until you noticed the hand-carved joints and perfectly matched wood grain. Photographs lined one wall—his daughter at various ages.
Hector stood when I walked in. He looked well.
“Archer.” His handshake was firm, warm. “Good to see you.”
“You too. How’s Lily?”
The question transformed his face. Made him look younger, less like a businessman and more like a father who couldn’t quite believe his luck.
“Eleven now. Wants to be a marine biologist.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“She read one book about coral reefs and decided that’s her life now.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Last week she tried to convince me to install a saltwater aquarium in the restaurant. For ambiance.”
I smiled despite the tension in my chest. “What did you say?”
“I told her we’d discuss it when she’s old enough to maintain it herself.” He poured coffee from a French press. “She’s already researching filtration systems. I give it six months before I’m building an aquarium.”
“Sounds like you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” He handed me a cup. “Once she decides on something, there’s no talking her out of it.” He smiled, “Sarah’s like that too. Once she decides she wants something, she makes it happen through sheer force of will.”
I’d met his wife, Sarah, a few times over the years—warm, sharp-witted, the kind of woman who could run a household and a business with equal competence.
We spent twenty minutes on business. The property acquisition was straightforward—zoning approvals, permit adjustments, environmental surveys. Hector had done most of the legwork himself, just needed legal eyes to confirm everything was airtight.
