Page 66 of The Billionaire Invitation

“Oh, relax.” Simone waved a hand and then turned toward Brody and Reagan. “And where is your beautiful baby girl?”

“With the nanny during dinner,” Reagan answered. “But as soon as I have a free hand, I’ll bring her out to show her off.”

“Two free hands right here.” Simone wiggled her fingers. “I’ll eat fast, and you can pass her over to me.”

“We were just talking about my upcoming trip to Portugal,” O interrupted. “You should come with me.”

Dante shot his father a glare, but his mother laughed off the suggestion. “I’m en route to LA and then Canada. I couldn’t possibly.”

“What’s the hurry, Dad?” Dante asked. “Didn’t you open this restaurant a few weeks ago? Then again, I guess acquiring is the fun part for you. Sticking around to see things through isn’t your strong suit.”

The table went silent. Forks and knives froze mid-motion.

Undeterred, Octavius refilled his wine glass. “That’s what managers are for, son. You might have committed to that foundation like it was your firstborn, but that’s not necessary. I tried to show you how to live effortlessly when you kids were growing up.”

Simone opened her mouth to respond, likely in Dante’s defense. He shook his head at his mother. He had this. Her intervention wasn’t going to help.

“It’s not a question of delegation,” he told O. “It’s about taking responsibility for your choices.”

“You’ve turned sacrifice into an art,” O said. “It ain’t that deep.”

Oh, that was rich. The man had left everything in his life behind, including Dante’s mother.

Dante had heard enough tonight. “Excuse me.”

He tossed his napkin down, pushed away from the table, and exited to the balcony. The moment he stepped outside to catch his breath he could have kicked his own ass for letting his father rile him up. There were unsaid, unresolved issues between them, but he never should have continued that shit in the middle of a family dinner.

He heard the door to the balcony open behind him, figuring either his mother or Honesty had followed him out. When he turned, he was surprised to find his father standing there, two glasses of whiskey in his hands. He offered Dante one of them.

“You have an axe to grind with me?” O asked. “Let’s have it.”

“I’m not you.” Dante waved off the glass. He turned and leaned on his forearms on the stone partition separating the balcony and watched the traffic below.

“And by that you mean…” Octavius stood beside him, rested Dante’s glass on the ledge, and waited.

“I don’t abandon people, for one.” Dante reached for the glass, figuring a dose of whiskey couldn’t hurt this conversation. He took a slug, savoring the burn of the liquid in his throat. “I don’t drop in, turn on the charm, and disappear while leaving everyone to pick up the pieces. Loyalty means something to me.”

His father hummed, and then took his place next to Dante, leaning on the ledge overlooking the city. “What do you think you’re doing with Honesty?”

“Don’t,” Dante growled, but his father didn’t listen.

“Are you not dropping in, charming her, and disappearing again? To use your words.”

“I’m helping her with her venture.”

“And helping yourself.”

“We’re helping each other. I am not going to abandon her. She accepted the grant. We’re linked via the Moretti Foundation.”

“She’ll have support from the staff, I presume. Just like this restaurant. The Silver Fox has a staff too. And it ain’t me. I care about this place, but I also understand that my being here won’t help. Hell, it might hurt. What do I know about running a restaurant?”

“Honesty isn’t a restaurant,” Dante snapped.

“Yes, but you know as well as I do that the fun part is the hunt. The pursuit. What comes after is maintenance. And that is not fun.”

He was impossible. Dante shook his head.

“Don’t get me wrong,” O continued. “I admire the way you have grown your grandfather’s foundation. And your mother did need help with the board position. I get it.”