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“Oh, I was not sure what I was going to order…” I said.
“Do not worry!” Furio said cheerfully. “I have ordered several of the specials along with the lamb. Everyone can have bites from each. Where I come from, it is good luck to share food!”
Six plates of appetizers arrived soon after that: Italian piadina flatbread with fontina and prosciutto, chickpea bruschetta, broccolini with anchovies and roasted garlic bulbs, chicken parmesan sticks, roasted fig salad with goat cheese and arugula, and a salty olive tapenade spread onto crispy bread. We passed the food around and filled our plates. My stomach rumbled at the sight; I realized that I had been too nervous today to eat much of a lunch.
As we dug in, the mood at the table turned lighter and more carefree. I could sense that the three men—threebillionaires, at that—had been tense about signing the investment contract, and now that tension was melting away. Even Owen stopped pouting about the way Furio had flirted with me and was back to his usual self.
The main courses came, and Furio insisted I try the lamb. And I had to admit: it was one of the most delicious things I had ever eaten. I wolfed down my portion and tried not to look longingly at the bites on Furio’s plate that he hadn’t eaten. I must not have hidden it well, because Furio picked up his plate and slid one of them onto mine.
“I will do you a trade,” he said, picking up a piece of cheesy bread. “If this is acceptable to you?”
“Absolutely!” I said, mouth already watering at the sight of the meat.
“Today is full of mutually beneficial business deals!” he said, which drew a laugh from everyone. “Tell me, Amber. How long have you been working at the company?”
“Not very long,” I admitted, glancing at Jude and Owen. “I guess it has been about a month?”
“Just over a month,” Jude said. “It will be five weeks at the end of this week.”
“It’s weird,” I mused. “It simultaneously feels like those five weeks flew by, but it also feels like I’ve been with ACS forever.”
“Well, we’ve been quite busy,” Jude said. He gave me a private little smile that suggested he wasn’t talking about theworkpart.
“And where did you work before this?” Furio asked.
“I was mostly a freelancer. Some small projects here and there.”
“She’s being modest,” Owen bragged. “Amber developed ArgoCoin.”
“Helpeddevelop it with two other programmers,” I clarified. But it was nice hearing Owen sing my praises.
Furio’s dark eyebrows rose in surprise. “ArgoCoin? I am familiar with this. It is the cryptocurrency that uses node-based transaction fees, is this correct?”
“That’s right,” I replied. “That makes it faster and cheaper than many other cryptos. I’m surprised you know about it.”
Furio took another tiny sip from his champagne. “I have done quite a bit of research on this industry. Hitting the books, as you Americans say. I believe it is important to understand what I am investing in.” He shook his head in wonder at me. “And you were one of the creators of it? Of ArgoCoin? You truly must be brilliant. ACS is lucky to have you.”
“We definitely are,” Owen said, and Jude nodded emphatically. I felt myself blushing for what felt like the hundredth time today.
“Your family name,” Furio said, still turned toward me. “Moltisanti. What part of Italy do you come from?”
“Oh, I have no idea,” I said with a laugh. “My grandparents moved here from Italy right before the second world war. Ithinkit was somewhere near Rome. My dad mentioned that once.”
“It is a beautiful thing to know where you come from,” Furio said. “You should ask your father.”
I sipped my glass of wine—which wasnotthe expensive champagne. This was a subject I didn’t like discussing, but Furio was warm and personable. I found myself wanting to open up to him.
“My dad died of cancer a few years ago,” I said.
Furio’s face became a portrait of grief and empathy. He put his glass down and reached out to take my hand, folding it into both of his.
“Amber. I am so sorry for your loss. May I ask what kind of cancer he had, if it is not too painful?”
“Pancreatic.”
His wince deepened. “Pancreatic. So terrible. There are no early, ah, how do you say… signs?” He searched around for the word. “Ah,symptoms. There are no early symptoms, so when you do learn of the disease, it is often too late.”
With anyone else, I would put up a wall to stop these personal questions. My father’s illness was something I had spent the past three years trying to forget. But Furio was so kind, and his eyes were focused on me like his entire reason for coming to San Francisco was to comfort me.
