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Giovanni insisted that I call him Gio. After he gave me some time to complete my new-hire paperwork, he took me on a brief tour. For now I’d be occupying a rather cramped office in the back of the original store, but within the next week, the plan was to move all the administrative functions over to the new place, which was considerably larger.
“My brother’s expecting you stop by Espo 2 this afternoon,” Gio said.
“I’m sorry. Espo 2?”
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s how Dom and I differentiate between the old place and the new one. Espo 1 and Espo 2. He spends most of his time overseeing the renovation, and I join him when I can. Our hours here are eleven a.m. until ten p.m., Monday through Saturday, closed on Sunday, for now at least. Espo 2 will have Sunday hours when it opens. You’ll have more of a nine-to-five schedule, although as we get closer to the Espo 2 opening, you’ll probably end up working overtime. And as assistant manager sometimes you’ll have to help fill in as the need arises in the dining room.”
“Not a problem,” I told him. “Whatever it takes.”
Gio talked rapidly, and I got the feeling his mind was always churning behind the scenes. He told me obvious things, like how processing payroll and taking care of day-to-day bookkeeping were the most immediate needs. In the coming weeks a number of new staff members would be added to fill positions at the new restaurant. As he talked, it was tough not to notice how good-looking he was; tall, with broad shoulders, and dreamy, dark Italian features. Of course I wasn’t having serious thoughts about him. He was my boss, and he was married to a friend from high school. Plus there just wasn’t that kind of chemistry between us. I could tell we would work well together, and that was all.
Before Espo 1 opened for the day, I got to meet a few staff members. Two of them were college students, and one was a retired cop who immediately confided to me that he’d been off the job for only two weeks before he realized his wife was going to drive him crazy, so he took a job serving pizza as a way to stay out of the house.
When I was treated to my first slice of Esposito’s pizza, I had to admit it was the best damn slice I’d ever eaten. When I said so out loud, Gio and the rest of the staff cheered my good taste.
By the time I got into my car to drive over to Espo 2, I was feeling pretty good about my first day. So far I liked everyone I’d met. More than anything, my exhausting job search had forced me to eat a few bites of humble pie—now I was excited to be part of a small family-owned business. I would make the Esposito brothers glad they’d hired me. Who knows, maybe this really was a great opportunity. From what Gio told me, the brothers seemed highly ambitious, so perhaps someday Esposito’s would be a national chain.
There was very little traffic heading into downtown Phoenix this time of day, and I made good time to Espo 2. It was in a quaint section of the city known as Heritage Square, populated by some of the oldest buildings in Phoenix. Gio’s brother, Dominic, would be waiting.
The building was square and brick. Originally it had been a bank and then operated as a bar for years. Gio had hinted it was still in the middle of a much-needed makeover, and I could see he was right.
There were a few tools propped up against the outside of the building, but I didn’t see a soul. When I pushed the door open, I noticed ladders, drop cloths, paint cans, and a whole lot of dust.
“About fucking time you turned up,” roared a deep male voice. The furious sound of those words tempted me to back up and run right the hell out of there.
“I’m, um, sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize I was late.”
The sexiest man alive materialized out of the dusty air—all blazing eyes and black hair, muscles practically busting out of his dirty white T-shirt. He cocked his head and gazed down at me.
“Sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s just that my countertop installer is two hours late, and I thought you were him. Can I help you with something?”
“I’m Melanie Cruz,” I said.
He crossed his arms and seemed rather nonplussed by the sound of my name.
“Your brother hired me,” I explained, feeling slightly annoyed and rather off balance.
He just kept ... staring.
“You must be Dominic,” I prompted.
I extended my hand. He kept his arms crossed.
“Melanie,” he muttered and shook his head. “Right. Yeah, Gio mentioned something about you.”
He still hadn’t shaken my hand. I was starting to feel ridiculous. Maybe he was trying to be tactful because his own hand was gross or something. It looked like he’d been knee-deep in sawdust before I walked in.
Abruptly he shook his head once and reached out for a handshake. His large, strong hand closed around my fingers no longer than a heartbeat. But the effect was electrifying. I’d shaken hundreds of hands in my life, and some of them were attached to pretty fine male specimens, but this wasn’t just a handshake. This was the kind of visceral connection that changed planetary orbits.
And it sure as hell wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted to feel when meeting my boss for the first time.
“Shock,” said Dominic as he pulled back.
“What?”
He gestured to the dusty, cavernous restaurant. “Too much static in here. Didn’t mean to give you a shock.”
“That’s all right,” I said, but Dominic had already turned around and started walking back to the shadows he’d emerged from. He did indeed resemble his brother in a superficial way—strong build, black hair, similar features—but Dominic possessed an edgy, smoldering quality in his every move. He already had me feeling slightly nervous. And slightly infatuated.
