But. . .why?
It was hard to maintain my composure. I mean. . .this was entirely over the top. I had the shellfish allergy. No one else needed to suffer.
But again, I reminded myself that at least he wasn’t going to kill the chef.
Gianni gestured to everyone at the table. “And have your servers remove any shellfish that’s here. Now!”
The few guests that were still munching on lobster, crab, mussels, and shrimp, stopped chewing immediately.
Oh my God. This is crazy.
The chef nodded frantically. “Yes, Don Fortunato. I will get rid of it all. Immediately.”
With that, the chef hurried away.
The waiters sprang into action, clearing plates with shellfish, even those half-eaten.
Guests watched in silent shock as their meals were whisked away from them.
But not one person dared to complain.
Gianni looked around at all the chaos he’d instigated with smug satisfaction.
He was a king happily protecting his queen.
Next, Gianni put his gaze on me. “You saved the chef tonight. Do you know what that means?”
I looked up at him, feeling the magnetic pull of his presence. “I did what I thought was right.”
“You challenged me.”
“I made a very polite and respectful request.”
Gianni’s lips curled into a dark smile. “You have no idea how rare it is for someone to challenge me and come out on top.”
“I’m your wife.”
“You are.”
“You know the saying, ‘Happy wife, happy life.”
He chuckled. “And will that beourrule?”
“Apparently, along with the rule that I call you. . .Daddy.”
“Oh yes. That is definitely a rule. The first rule.”
“And tell me. . .” I was so utterly intrigued with him. “Why do you want me to call you Daddy?”
Gianni’s eyes danced with a blend of amusement and something deeper, darker.
My pulse raced.
The air between us crackled.
“It’s more than just. . .a name.”
“What is it?”
