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She and Luca chuckled at his joke.
Crossing over to them, Luca leaned in until his lips were next to her ear. “You know, three isn’t always a bad thing,” he murmured, loud enough that both she and Conor heard.
Then, because he was shameless and sexy and wonderful, he gave her a quick, hard kiss before swatting Conor on the ass.
Oh yeah…their luck was changing.
Chapter Eight
Conor stepped out of the back of the limousine as Luca left his apartment building, dressed in his tuxedo. Actually, he was wearing Matt’s tuxedo.
Luca had shown up at Enigma late Wednesday afternoon, ready to claim his reward for winning mini golf.
His demand?
A prom for Harper.
Conor had half-heartedly attempted to talk Luca out of it, knowing that way lie disaster, but in the end, he relented. One, because he’d made the bet, and secondly, because it was a very thoughtful idea.
So while it was the most irresponsible thing they could do, Conor had gone along with it, his ability to remain aloof when it came to Harper and Luca all but gone.
Besides, if he’d been serious about being responsible, he wouldn’t be dining with the two of them three times a week. He wouldn’t be wielding a hammer every Saturday as Luca taught him the ins and outs of construction work. He wouldn’t be participating in the Wednesday lunches with Luca and his buddies. He wouldn’t be grocery shopping with Harper on Monday nights as she continued building her menu for the restaurant, while creating dinner masterpieces for him and Luca. He wouldn’t have taken up running with her on Sunday mornings.
He also wouldn’t have established a daily coffee break with Luca every morning at eight. Well, it was a break for Luca. He and the construction crew reported to the worksite by six a.m., while Conor enjoyed bankers’ hours, not heading into the office until nine.
He hadn’t intended to make coffee a daily thing. Originally, he’d stopped by one morning on a whim, armed with two cups of java, just to check on the crew’s progress. They’d drunk the coffee, chatted amicably…then Luca had flashed him that charming grin and joked, “See you tomorrow?”
Damn if Conor hadn’t taken the bait, showing up the next day, and the next and the next, until suddenly the two of them had a standing coffee date.
So really, when placed next to all of that…what would a little prom hurt?
He did an internal eye roll.
He was fucked.
When the crew had clocked out at noon today, since it was Saturday, he and Luca had remained behind, putting their plans into action. They were going all out. In addition to Luca’s decorations—somehow, he’d managed to get his hands on an honest-to-God disco ball—and the special playlist Conor had spent the better part of the last two days putting together on Spotify, Luca had asked his nonna and aunt Berta to prepare the “pre-prom” dinner.
Work had been completed on the main dining room of the restaurant just yesterday, the crew now focusing their time and energy on the large kitchen and Harper’s apartment upstairs.
Most of the permanent components of the dining area were in place, including the recessed ambient light fixtures, the gorgeous accent lighting that emphasized the private, built-in booths along one wall, and the long, mahogany counter that would serve as the bar and a place for patrons to sit while waiting for tables. Still to come were the tables, curtains for the front windows, as well as the mirrored shelves for behind the bar, but those final touches were a couple of weeks out as the crew focused their energy on the kitchen.
However, enough of the room had been completed for their plans for this evening. They’d set one of the private booths for their meal, complete with a white tablecloth, three place settings of Nonna’s special china, and a single tapered candle. Nonna and Aunt Berta—as they’d insisted Conor call them—had shown up late this afternoon while he and Luca were decorating to deliver the dishes and food, currently warming in the restaurant’s kitchen. The two women had walked around the room, oohing and ahhing over everything they’d done, even as they subtly tweaked their work.
While Conor owned his own tuxedo, he’d borrowed his brother Matt’s for Luca, both men conveniently the same size.
“You clean up good,” he said as Luca approached.
Luca paused to admire the stretch limo Conor had secured for the evening. “Damn, man. Harper is going to flip out when we pick her up in this.”
Their “prom date” didn’t have a clue what they’d planned. They’d simply informed her they had a surprise for her and that she should dress in her fanciest dress.
Luca hopped into the back of the car, Conor following him and closing the door. They were picking Harper up at the hotel, then taking a driving tour of the city, while drinking the champagne Conor had on ice. From there, it was on to the restaurant for dinner and dancing under Luca’s disco ball.
“Did you rent this limo, or is this your Sunday car?” Luca liked teasing Conor about his money.
Conor scoffed. “Please. The limo belongs to Russo Enterprises. My preferred Sunday car is the Aston Martin,” he replied in the snootiest tone he could fake, while pretending to wipe invisible dust from the lapel of his jacket.
Luca narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. I want to believe you’re kidding, but I’m not gonna lie…I might have a doubt or two.”
