Page 18 of Deal with the Devil
“Thanks for joining me, dolcezza,” he says. “Aren’t I a lucky man? Dining with the most beautiful woman in the city tonight.”
My demure smile remains as I keep the humor from my tone. “Aren’t I a lucky woman? Dining in the most expensive restaurant in the city tonight—and on such short notice. You must’ve had to break a few arms to get us this table tonight.”
“Or make a single phone call,” he says coolly. “I called in a favor. They made room for me.”
“I suppose it’s that easy when you’re a billionaire.”
…or a mobster.
I keep that second part to myself as the corner of Rafael’s mouth merely quirks as though amused.
Our server arrives to offer us tonight’s wine selections.
Rafael doesn’t even glance at the menu as he rattles off my favorite, ordering a bottle that costs several hundred with the ease of most people buying a pack of gum at the store.
It’s nothing to him, not even a blip on the radar. Last year, he threw Jayla a birthday party that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.
…maybe more than that when you racked up the total in damages to his super yacht.
As his girlfriend, I learned to stop being surprised by how easy he drops cash like most people breathe air. But in hindsight, I’m not sure how I didn’t pick up on it sooner—an Italian businessman like Rafael gives off the vibe of every mafia boss I’ve ever investigated…
“Well?” Rafael asks, startling me from my thoughts. The server has left and we’re alone again.
I blink a few times. “Well… what?”
“How have you been? It’s been months since we’ve talked. I don’t count last night at the gala—you were not yourself.”
“You mean I was pissed?” I laugh at myself, giving a shake of my head. “In my defense, that’s been happening a lot lately. At least as far as work’s concerned. It’s made me question if I’ve—you know what? You probably don’t want to hear about that.”
“Why would you say that? I asked, didn’t I?”
“We’re having dinner. Sullivans is the best steakhouse in the city, maybe the country. The last thing you should be forced to listen to as you enjoy your ribeye is me whining about my job.”
“Dolcezza, after months of radio silence from you, any word you speak is a luxury. You could be reading from the dictionary and I would be interested.”
My cheeks warm as our server returns with our bottle of Malbec. We place our orders as he’s done pouring, each ordering one of the succulent steaks Sullivans is known for.
The moment we’re alone again, Rafael grabs hold of the stem of his wine glass and raises both brows at me.
“Are you going to tell me?” he prompts.
I almost roll my eyes, fighting off a smile. It’s so easy to forget how charming he can be; how he has a natural swagger about him that’s effortless and really lowers your defenses.
If I’m not careful tonight, he could really have me not keeping my wits about me. He’s that damn disarming and seems to know he is.
“It’s just the difference between ANC and Metro,” I say, sighing. I take a sip from the dark juicy wine, the plum taste on my tongue. “I guess I’m just so used to how things were there. But I have to get used to how ANC does things.”
“And how does ANC do things?”
“Shut up, sit down, and color. In that order.”
He tilts his head to the side as I take another sip of wine. “You made a suggestion to your boss he didn’t take under consideration?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. But I get it—they have a formula that works. I’m just a news anchor. I don’t get todecidethe news. That’s above my pay grade. All they need me to do is smile at the camera and read from the teleprompter.”
I don’t mean to sound so pitiful as I laugh softly, but I can see how Rafael’s jaw sets. He doesn’t like what he’s hearing. I second guess what I’ve told him, rushing to add more context, though he cuts me off before I can.
“I’m sure Joe Germanotta will have a change of heart,” he says vaguely. “I’m sure he’ll be more open to what you say in the future.”
