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I press the button on DoorDash to order the smoothie sent to my office, then shoot Raul a text.
Me: Incoming smoothie, put it on my desk. Drink it and die.
A minute later, I get a response.
Raul: Smoothie? WTF is that about? Wait. WAIT. Did you get the non-GMO cookies, too?
I send him an emoji of a skull-and-crossbones that seems to get the point across better than words.
A minute later, he sends me another text.
Raul: Goddammit, we lost the girl again.
I take a picture of her and send it back to him.
Raul: You found her??
Me: Yeah
My fingers hover over the phone. I can’t tell him why she’s here. For some reason, that seems private, and I don’t want to reveal her secrets.
Raul: She left without eating her lunch, and skipped her breakfast, too. You have to get her fed, or you’ll be in trouble for neglect.
Me: I own a fucking restaurant. This shouldn’t be a problem. Also, I am so going to kill you for this. I know you were behind it.
Raul: Don’t know what you’re talking about
Me: You do. You know I don’t have children for A REASON
Raul: hahahahahaha and now you do
If he wasn’t my cousin, I’d have fired his ass a long time ago. Why do families get away with murder?
I roll my eyes and shove my phone in my pocket. Jesus.
“It seems we’re boring Mr. Santiago,” Sam says, narrowing her eyes at me.
Oh no she didn’t.
“Excuse me?” I square my shoulders. Where does she get off leveling uncalled-for judgments?
Not that I ever do a thing like that.
She sits up straighter, and I note the way her spine stiffens as she folds her hands in front of her. Small hands, with short, neatly trimmed nails, no jewelry. Not even a shadow that a ring ever grazed her finger. I wonder if she’s ever even been with a man before. There’s definitely a virginal vibe about her.
“You seem bored, Mr. Santiago. Perhaps Toni and I should conduct the rest of our interview privately, and you can come back later to pick her up?” She cocks her head to the side. I know a challenge when I see one.
A pussy would tuck his tail and run. An asshole would give her good reason to get her panties in a knot. But me? I can be every bit the gentleman that’s dominated the restaurant business in one of the most competitive cities in the country.
“So sorry you misunderstood my facial expressions, Miss—”
“Graboski,” she finishes for me.
“Graboski. But I was merely responding to a business associate of mine and my reactions just now had nothing to do with your interview. I do, however, think we need to move this interview elsewhere, because I have a commitment this afternoon, and it seems Toni’s skipped breakfast and lunch.”
She holds my gaze before her pretty eyes flicker back to Toni. “Is that true?”
Toni shrugs. “I wasn’t hungry. I don’t get hungry until later.”
“We’ll go next door, get something to eat. You’ll finish this interview.”
“Go where next door?” Toni asks.
“My restaurant.”
She seems to mull this over, but I’m fresh out of patience. I’m about to pick the kid up and toss her over my shoulder. “I’m not asking, Toni.” I point to the door. “Go.”
She gives me a look like she’s thinking about defying me again, and I’m briefly wondering if boarding school for kids in temporary custody is an option when Samantha speaks up.
“I’ve heard they have the best macaroni and cheese in the city,” she says helpfully.
“We do, it’s won awards.” My tone is tight, as I speak through gritted teeth. I’m so out of patience, but a little angel in my ear reminds me to play it cool. Samantha’s turning around so she can grab her sweater off the back of the chair, and she’s got a seriously perfect little ass.
“Let’s go, Toni, I’m starving,” Sam says. “And I need to hear more about your mother.”
She crates the little mutt. We leave, and I get us a table at the back of the restaurant, still half-listening. I’ve got a meeting coming up, and it’s an important one I can’t miss. I snag the kid’s menu and point to a dish. “See? Mac and cheese.”
Toni frowns. “That says… cavatappi with a decadent gruyere-havarti blend.” She looks up at me and blinks. I don’t let on that I’m impressed with how well she reads for someone so small.
“Trust me, it’s good.”
“I’ll take the same,” Samantha says triumphantly, not even opening the menu. “But the adult version.”
Her eyes meet mine across the table, and she must have a seriously dirty mind because saying adult version has her cheeks all flushed and pink.
I am not letting this go.
“You like the adult version?” I ask in a low voice, as Toni’s busily coloring the back of the kid’s menu with a cup of crayons the server brought her.
