they were locals, their homes and families. The waitstaff laughed and joked with each other. The flow of people coming in and going out, eating, serving, clearing tables surrounded her, reminded her that this was why she wanted to stay in Italy, at Mancini’s. Not for a man, a romance, but for a life. The kind of interesting, fun, exciting life she’d never thought she’d get.
She wanted this much more than she wanted a fling that ended in a broken heart and took away the job she loved.
At the end of the night, Emory came out with the white pay envelopes. He passed them around and smiled when he gave one to Dani. “This will be better than last time.”
“So my raise is in here?”
“Yes.” He nodded once and strode away.
Dani tucked the envelope into her skirt pocket and helped the waitresses with cleanup. When they were done, she grabbed her coat, not wanting to tempt fate by being the only remaining employee when Rafe came out of the kitchen.
She walked to her car, aware that Rafe’s estimation of her worth sat by her hip, half afraid to open it. He had to value her enough to pay her well or she couldn’t stay. She would not leave the security of her teaching job and an apartment she could afford, just to be scraping by in a foreign country, no matter how much she loved the area, its people and especially her job.
After driving the car into a space in Louisa’s huge garage, Dani entered the house through the kitchen.
Louisa sat at the table, enjoying her usual cup of tea before bedtime. “How did it go? Was he nice? Was he romantic? Or did he ignore you?”
Dani slipped off her coat. “He hinted that we should have an affair.”
“That’s not good.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not letting him change the rules he made in Rome. He said that for us to work together there could be nothing between us.” She sucked in a breath. “So he can’t suddenly decide it’s okay for us to have an affair.”
Louisa studied her. “I think you’re smart to keep it that way, but are you sure it’s what you want?”
“Yes. Today customers reminded me of why I love this job. Between lunch and dinner, I worked with Emory to organize the schedule for ordering supplies and streamline it. He showed me a lot of the behind-the-scenes jobs it takes to make Mancini’s work. Every new thing I see about running a restaurant seems second nature to me.”
“And?”
“And, as I’ve thought all along, I have instincts for the business. This could be more than a job for me. It could be a real career. If Rafe wants to risk that by making a pass at me, I think I have the reasoning set in my head to tell him no.”
Louisa’s questioning expression turned into a look of joy. “So you’re staying?”
“Actually—” she waved the envelope “—it all depends on what’s in here. If my salary doesn’t pay me enough for my own house or condo, plus food and spending money, I can’t stay.”
Louisa crossed her fingers for luck. “Here’s hoping.”
Dani shook her head. “You know, you’re so good to me I want to stay just for our friendship.”
Louise groaned. “Open the darned thing already!”
She sliced a knife across the top of the envelope. When she saw the amount of her deposit, she sat on the chair across from Louisa. “Oh, my God.”
Louisa winced. “That bad?”
“It’s about twice what I expected.” She took a breath. “What’s he doing?”
Louisa laughed. “Trying to keep you?”
“The amount is so high that it’s actually insulting.” She rose from her seat, grabbed her coat and headed for the door. “Half this check would have been sufficient to keep me. This amount? It’s—offensive.” Almost as if he was paying her to sleep with him. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words to Louisa. But how coincidental was it that he’d dropped hints that he wanted to have an affair, then paid her more money than she was worth?
The insult of it vibrated through her. The nerve of that man!
“Where are you going?”
“To toss this back in his face.”
Yanking open the kitchen door, she bounded out into the cold, cold garage. She jumped into the old car and headed back to Monte Calanetti, parking on a side street near the building where Rafe had shown her the almost-perfect condo.
But as she strode into the lobby, she remembered she needed a key to get into the elevator that would take her to the penthouse. Hoping to ask the doorman for help, she groaned when she saw the desk was empty.
Maybe she should take this as a sign that coming over here was a bad idea?
She sucked in a breath. No. Their situation was too personal to talk about at Mancini’s. And she wanted to yell. She wanted to vent all her pent-up frustrations and maybe even throw a dish or two. She had to talk to him now. Alone.
She walked over to the desk and eyed the phone. Luckily, one of the marked buttons said Penthouse. She lifted the receiver and hit the button.
After only one ring, Rafe answered. “Hello?”
She sucked in a breath. “It’s me. Daniella. I’m in your lobby and don’t know how to get up to your penthouse.”
“Pass the bank of elevators we used to get to the condo I showed you and turn right. I’ll send my elevator down for you.”
“Don’t I need a key?”
“I’ll set it to return. You just get in.”
She did as he said, walking past the first set of elevators and turning to find the one for the penthouse. She stepped through the open doors and they swished closed behind her.
Riding up in the elevator with its modern gray geometric-print wallpaper and black slate floors, she was suddenly overwhelmed by something she hadn’t considered, but should have guessed.
Rafe was a wealthy man.
Watching the doors open to an absolutely breathtaking home, she tried to wrap her brain around this new facet of Rafe Mancini. He wasn’t just sexy, talented and mercurial. He was rich.
And she was about to yell at him? She, who’d always been poor? Always three paychecks away from homelessness? She’d never, ever considered that maybe the reason he didn’t think anything permanent would happen between them might be because they were so different. They lived in two different countries. They had two different belief systems. And now she was seeing they came from two totally different worlds.
Rafe walked around a corner, holding two glasses of wine.
“Chianti.” He handed one to her and motioned to the black leather sofa in front of a stacked stone fireplace in the sitting area.
Unable to
