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Gabriella
Dominic looks unhappy, but to my everlasting relief, our next course arrives before he can press the point. Carter waits for me to try the course, and then gives me an inquiring look. “What do you think of the noodles?”
“I want to marry the noodles,” I reply fervently, intensely relieved we’re changing the subject. “I’ve made noodles at home. Why do they never taste so good? Wait, don’t answer that.”
Yes, Leo Norris is a giant douchewipe. He used to play for Liverpool, but he wasn’t consistent enough or talented enough to make it there, and so he moved to America to play Major League Soccer.
Yes, he hit on Anna, and yes, Karpis should have taken her side, not his. It’s ridiculously unfair that she has to quit her job and he gets to skate by with no consequences.
Best tits and ass in the place, he’d said. The fucker. It’s ridiculously unfair that I can’t knee him in the groin, but such is life.
I’m so ashamed. So mortified that I had to run back to Daddy for help. Like a helpless little girl, not the adult woman I want to be. I’m almost thirty, and I’ve achieved nothing on my own.
The company I want to start—now more than ever, I desperately need to do it on my own.
I wasn’t lying to Dominic. It was kind of him to offer to loan me money. Or was he offering to give it to me, no strings attached? I’m not sure. Either way, I don’t want it. I’ll have to wait longer than I wanted to start my own firm. I’ll have to put up with bullshit clients, some of whom will undoubtedly make unwanted passes at me. But in the end, it’ll be worth it.
“Do you cook?” Dominic leans forward. He gives me a small smile. “I want to know everything about you.”
He’s so gorgeous. They both are. And they’re mine. How amazing is that? I feel my mood brighten. “Sometimes,” I reply. “Just easy stuff. I don’t have the patience for anything too laborious.”
“Like what?”
Before I can reply, a woman walks up to us. “Dominic, Carter, how are you? Dominic, I’m sorry to interrupt your dinner, but we have an emergency.”
An expression of worry flashes over Dominic’s face. He glances at me. “Please excuse me?”
“Of course.”
Dominic gets up. Carter frowns at his departing back. “That’s Gloria Walters,” he murmurs. “She heads up HR. I wonder what’s going on.” His phone beeps. He curses under his breath and silences it. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem.” I smile at him. “Never a dull moment, right?”
“Tell me about it.” His phone beeps again. “Damn it.”
“Get it,” I urge. “It might be urgent.”
He makes a rueful face. “This isn’t turning out to be the best date in the world.”
“I don’t know about that; these noodles are amazing. Go.”
He gets up, his phone to his ear. “This is Carter Hughes,” I hear him say as he walks toward the front entrance.
I finish my noodles. Since I’m all alone, I surreptitiously dip my finger in the sauce coating the small bowl and lick it clean. God, this is so tasty. I’m sure it’s too complicated for me to make, but I wonder if I can get the recipe for Piper.
Neither Dominic nor Carter is in sight. I wonder what their emergencies are about.
Speaking of emergencies, I haven’t checked my phone in hours. I probably should make sure none of my clients are in crisis. I pull it out. Piper’s texted me. Did you talk to them? She writes. What happened? Don’t leave us in suspense, Gabby.
I grin and start to type out a reply. Then I notice I have voicemail.
Oh, right. I totally forgot. My phone had rung during the drive, but traffic had been hell, and I hadn’t answered. I guess I should check in. It might be an emergency. Or it might be Vittoria Vitale, asking me if I’m going to play poker Thursday night. I very much doubt if I’m going to play, but I wouldn’t mind having brunch with her. She’d sounded lonely when we talked on Saturday.
I dial the number. A man’s voice fills my phone. “Hello, Ms. Alves,” he begins. “My name is Fredrick Jefferson. I’m a friend of Dominic Crawford. Dominic’s probably warned you I’d be calling. My daughter Nyla just made it to the top 24 on American Idol. She’s going to be on TV.” His voice sounds wry. “She’s delighted, but her mother and I are less ecstatic. Nyla’s just fifteen.”
Why is he telling me all this?
“I’m rambling. We supervise Nyla’s social media usage pretty carefully, but in light of the changed circumstances, I wanted a professional to review her online presence, give her some advice, that kind of thing. Dominic spoke very highly of you.”
