Page 38 of The Marriage Bid
“Ah, of course. You weren’t insulting me; you were being a white knight.”
He paused as though he wanted to say something, only to stop himself at the last minute as he raked me with his gaze, then said, “Where’s your ring?”
I pointed at his bare ring finger. “Where’s yours?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold band and flashed it in my face.
“Do I really have to wear one?”
“It would be awkward if we didn’t have them, don’t you think? Worse still if I’m wearing one and you’re not.”
“Fine. I went to dig for the ring where I had put it and forgot it, the little jewelry box on my dresser. When I rejoined him again, he scanned me once more. Satisfied, he jerked his head to the side. “You’ll do. Let’s go.”
Massimo had a townhouse in Soho, which came as a surprise to me because I thought he was an Italian resident. “Why didn’t you wait for him to come here if he has a place in New York?” I said to Tyler as we waited for Massimo to arrive. His wife greeted us, then left us alone when she went to fetch him.
“He comes to New York only during the holidays. Apparently, he likes New York Christmases. He came only now so we could finalize the deal. The one you’re about to blow.”
I was about to rebut him, but then a short, stout man with a white balding head, Massimo, I presumed, marched into the palatial living room, his arms wide open, as his wife trailed behind him. “Tyler, so glad to see you,” he said in a thick Italian accent. “You’ve met Clarita, of course, and this is your…”
“Wife.” Tyler pulled me to his side as we got up from the couch. His arm slid across my waist. Like clockwork, my body tingled, registering every part of him that touched mine. “Massimo, Clarita, meet Saffron. Saffron, meet Massimo Terlizzi, my favorite business partner, and Clarita, Massimo’s wife and the best risotto maker in the world.”
Clarita blushed and chuckled like a schoolgirl. “You flatter me.” She came to me, took my hand in hers, and kissed it. “I had no idea you were married, Tyler. I would have sworn…”
“I like keeping my private life private, but when I raved about your amazing risotto, Saffron asked if she could meet you.”
Clarita giggled again. Clearly, this was some sort of inside joke from the last time they met. “She’s gorgeous,” she said as though I wasn’t there. “No wonder you were hiding her from the world.”
Massimo chuckled. “She said it, not me. But why would you keep a beautiful woman such as her under lock and key? I would proudly show her to the world if I were you.”
“I promise you, he did not hide me,” I said. “I even came to Florence with him.”
“And yet he did not let us meet you. Ha!” Massimo wagged his finger at Tyler. “Come now,” he said to me. “Do you like meat? Or are you a vegan?” He said the word vegan as though it were a slur.
“I eat meat.”
“Fantastico! We are having a barbecue. In fact, I was smoking the meat right then on the terrace. It is my first time, so please be kind.”
“Massimo has been watching barbecue tutorials on YouTube, and I am afraid he has become obsessed,” Clarita said apologetically.
The couple took us to the large terrace on the rooftop of the townhouse. There was a large grill in one corner filled with so much meat I wondered if it was for us or if there were going to be other people coming. At the other end was a makeshift bar. Clarita asked for our drink orders and then asked a server to make them for us before disappearing to take a call. Massimo went to check on his grill, leaving Tyler and me alone.
“They don’t seem so bad,” I said as we were handed our drinks. “Massimo doesn’t look that worried.”
“That’s how he is. Last year, Seb had what he thought was a productive meeting with him. They talked casually. He even complimented our work, and Seb was sure he had bagged the sale, only for Massimo’s people to call us the following week that the sale would not go through.”
“Oh.” I raised my mimosa. “But they like me. That must count for something.”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t put much stock in that. They’re a fairly cordial couple. Just don’t trip over yourself, and this might work out.”
“You hate giving me a compliment, do you?”
“A compliment for what? All you did was appear.”
“And not be a vegan. They seem to hate that for some reason.”
Tyler frowned as though I had said something profound. I was about to ask when Massimo rejoined us. He came from behind and put an arm around both of us, saying, “Weekend barbecue with friends. Beer.” He pointed to Tyler’s drink. “I even got a bar on my rooftop. You are turning me into an American, Tyler. All this coming and going got me feeling a little less Italiano.” He slapped both our backs and went to the neatly arranged outdoor chairs. Tyler and I followed him there, and we settled onto the ottomans while he reclined on a chaise lounge.
“So,” he slapped the chair. “I hear there are issues with your company.”
