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Chapter Thirty-Six
We sat down on the dark pleather seats at a table by the window. Even though he was opposite me, I still couldn’t quite believe he was here.
God, he wassobeautiful. His olive skin was glowing. Flecks of grey were sprinkled through his beard and hair. I freakinglovedsalt-and-pepper hair on a man. Even his laughter lines were bloody gorgeous. I could literally stare at him all day.
Now I remembered why I had to recite those boring sports, to keep my emotions under control.
Fuck snooker, darts, golf and whatever bollocks I’d chanted in my head before. I’d waited so long to see him again and I wasn’t about to suppress it. I was going to flirt my arse off and let him knowexactlyhow I felt. I never even thought we’d meet again, so what did I have to lose?
Ahem. According to you, Sophia, sanity and self-respect…
Button it, Reasanna.
‘So, tell me about your new job,’ I asked, leaning in and tilting my head a little. ‘How did you get it?’
‘Well, I looked on the internet for good Italian restaurants in London,’ he replied in his thick, sexy Italian accent. ‘I picked four and looked on Facebook to see who I liked and looked at their websites. Then I found the email addresses for the head chefs, sent my CV and asked for a job. I liked the head chef at Polignano. He said I could come for a trial. I have to pay for the flight and hotel myself, so it is a risk…’
I nodded, desperately trying to focus on listening to him rather than imagining his hands all over me.
‘But I was confident. The chef sounded interested, so I took the chance, and he liked my cooking. I am excited.’
‘That’s amazing, Lorenzo,’ I said, bringing myself out of my fantasy and back to reality. ‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘I say thanks to you too, as is it was you that made me think about coming to London.’ He flashed his infectious smile at me again. ‘I worked before in LA and Singapore, but never in London. It is a good idea. I have already learnt new things to take back home. I like it. And you?’ he asked. ‘What you do here in London, Sophia, for work?’
‘Oh, I work in PR,’ I replied casually. He didn’t need to know the ins and outs of my business at this stage.
‘What is that?’ he asked, frowning.
‘Public relations. Basically, we promote hair and beauty companies—you know, skincare products—face creams, make-up, hairdressers…that kind of thing,’ I said, gesturing cutting hair and rubbing imaginary moisturiser into my skin like I was playing a game of charades. ‘We get them in the magazines so that people know about them and buy their products or visit their salons.’
‘Ah, yes, I see!’ he said excitedly. ‘Like advertisements. You make them?’
‘Hmm…sort of.…I’ll show you one day,’ I said. It was hard enough explaining PR to my mum, never mind an Italian chef.
The waiter came over to our table and asked what we’d like to drink. Thank God we didn’t have to get up and go to the bar to order, as I wanted to stare at this man without interruption for as long as possible.
‘I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,’ I replied. ‘Lorenzo?’
‘Good choice, Sophia,’ he said, smiling again. ‘I will have the same, thanks.’
The waiter nodded, then headed back to the bar.
‘So you said you reckon—sorry, you think you’ll be here for around two months?’ I asked, trying once again to play it cool.
‘Not sure. When you join this restaurant, the chef likes you to stay a long time,’ he said, switching on his serious face. ‘If I told him I stay for only two months, he may not agree to take me because it is a lot of work to train someone and then they leave.’
‘Yes, I can understand that,’ I agreed.
‘I will stay for as long as possible, but I must be back for the Taste Holidays season next year, which starts in February or March. I will wait to see when I am booked. We are now in December, so maybe I stay this month, January and perhaps February. I will see how I like it. And if there is another reason to stay in London…’ he said, flashing a flirty smile.
We sat there mute for a few seconds, just staring at one another. Then he broke the silence.
‘You are a beautiful woman, Sophia,’ he said. ‘I remembered you were beautiful, but not like this. You are very, very sexy…’
I may have just wet my knickers.
Of course I actually hadn’t, but if he carried on like this, I just might…
