Page 62 of Lord of Ruin
“Perhaps. Let’s go inside.” I guided her toward the entrance, taking one last look at the street. My instinct told me to be careful, although I refused to allow the evening to be deterred because my gut told me that at some point my estate, the corporate headquarters, and the casinos would be cased to determine the best way to get to me.
When I opened the door, I grinned. It had been weeks since I’d been here. I couldn’t imagine a more appropriate first date. Shit. That’s what this was, a freaking date. Did I even know how to do that any longer? I laughed softly as the hostess recognized me.
“Mr. Diamondis. It’s been a while. Would you like your regular table?”
“That would be great, Dena. And this is a very special guest.”
“Oh, then I’ll tell Papa. I’m certain he’ll make you his very special delight for the evening.” She was the owner’s daughter, the larger-than-life man someone I could trust. Michelangelo knew all about my family, was well aware I’d done business inside his quaint but amazing restaurant. He also was very happy with the various contributions I’d made to his fine establishment over the years.
When Dena led us to our table, the music was exactly what I’d hoped. It was as if we’d been transported back in time to Italy. That’s where Michelangelo and his family had originated, although Dena was born in the US.
“What do you smell now, my sweet prize?” I asked as I pulled out her chair.
“The most incredible spaghetti sauce. No…” She lifted her head as if contemplating her answer. “Pizza?”
I ripped off the blindfold and she squealed in the adorable way only she could.
“Very good. The finest pizza in all of Pennsylvania. True Italian pizza.”
Dena grinned. “My father will make certain he prepares his specialty. Would you like some wine?”
“Absolutely,” Jenna answered.
Dena nodded. “I know exactly what to bring you. Please enjoy your evening.”
She glanced around the restaurant, still in awe. Between the red tablecloths, the brick walls, flickering candles, and fresh flowers on every table, the theme screamed romance.
Even if I wasn’t a romantic guy.
“They know you here,” she said as if it should be a huge shock to both of us.
“They should. I’ve been coming here for years.” I sat down in the chair close enough I would be able to enjoy tormenting her during the evening. I did want her hot and bothered even before we hit the dance floor at a club where my family-owned partial interest. I couldn’t wait to indulge my fantasies for a change.
“It’s…” She took the time to shift her attention toward me, acting coy for a few seconds. “Amazing.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“So what’s your favorite kind of pizza?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “The kind with lots of meat and extra cheese.”
“A man after my own heart.” She leaned further in, giving me a heated look.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Oh… yeah.”
As she was licking her lips in an exaggerated manner, a flurry of activity occurred around us, one waiter filling our water glasses, another bringing a basket of steaming hot homemade Italian bread and a dish with Michelangelo’s famous olive oil dip. Dena brought my favorite wine herself, eyeing the beautiful woman I was with cautiously. The girl had never seen me bring anyone but business associates into the restaurant.
“Rosemary, garlic, basil, oregano, red and black pepper with a dash of salt and Italian parsley. Along with the finest olive oil. Am I right?” Jenna asked.
Dena giggled. “Very good. Have you eaten at my papa’s restaurant before?”
“No. I’ve never been to Philly before.”
I adored the way Dena’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, gosh. Then you’re in for a treat. You must have Mommy’s tiramisu for dessert. It was her grandmother’s recipe from Sicily.”
There was something so endearing about the way Jenna’s face lit up. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”