Page 19 of Unrelenting
“You’re on your feet a lot,” Lorenzo says. “So I can imagine.”
“Then I’m going to head into the restaurant. People think because we only open at night that I have it easy, but there’s always so much to do.”
“Have you considered handing more responsibility to your staff?” Lorenzo asks.
“I delegate where necessary.”
“Do you, though? You don’t trust your sommelier to buy the wine.”
I frown at that. “Has Stefan complained to you about me?”
“No, I asked him why he’s never been to Casa di Lupo. He said you make the decisions about the wine.”
There’s an implied criticism in his words that makes me defensive. “Well, I know what my customers like.”
“I’m sure you do, but perhaps Stefan would appreciate being given more responsibility. People like to know their employer trusts them.”
“I trust my staff,” I grumble.
“Do you? When did you last take a night off?”
I shrug. “I don’t need to take a night off. The restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Lorenzo scoffs. “Yes, when nothing happens. When did you last attend a social event? What about the theater? When did you last take a vacation?”
His line of questioning pisses me off, mainly because I know the point he’s getting at is valid.
“I’ve gone for short breaks on my days off.”
It’s stretching the truth. I went to Berlin last year to see my parents on my mother’s birthday, but I flew in and out on the same day. I’m ashamed that since they moved to Germany for my dad’s job, I’ve only visited them twice.
Lorenzo tuts disapprovingly. “Not good enough, Lucia. When did you last take a proper vacation, you know, seven days with no distractions?”
I purse my lips. “When did you?”
I don’t expect him to answer my challenge, but he does. “In April. I spent ten days in the Caribbean.”
It’s hard to believe he switched off for an entire ten days. “You did no work the whole time?”
“None. You see, I trust my brother and my lieutenants to run things in my absence.”
“I trust my staff,” I mumble petulantly. “And I don’t like lazing around on the beach.”
“Neither do I,” Lorenzo says. “I spent my time in the Caribbean exploring the history and culture of the different islands.”
“Oh.”
“Oh.” Lorenzo mimics my tone. “You thought I was just another billionaire playboy who parties on his superyacht by night and tops up his tan in the daytime?”
I’m taken aback by his reference to himself as a billionaire. I knew he was rich, of course, but I never suspected he was that wealthy. “Do you own a yacht?”
“No. I can’t stand being on the water.”
“Me neither,” I admit. “I don’t want to risk falling in because I can’t stand swimming. I hate it when the water gets up my nose.”
“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t waterboard you to make you sell Gianetta’s to me.” Lorenzo winks, but I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding.
“Would you do that to someone?” I run my finger around the rim of my coffee cup. “Waterboard them?”
