did something like that? Obviously someone very trusting or very desperate. Which type was she? Her beautiful face showed lines of stress and the darkness below her eyes hinted at her exhaustion. He was leaning toward the desperate scenario.
Perhaps he’d been too rough on her. He really hadn’t meant to upset her. He knew how frustrating it could be to be so close to getting what you wanted and yet having a barricade thrown in the way.
“Listen, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I’m sure you’ll be able to land another job somewhere else—”
“And what are you planning to do about the film crew when they arrive?”
Dante’s lips pressed together. Yes, what was he going to do? This situation was getting ever so complicated. He eyed up the woman. Was she on the level? Was she truly after the work experience? The opportunity to learn? Or was she an opportunist playing on his sympathies?
He certainly didn’t want to spend his time inflating her ego in front of the camera crew for the next two months—two very long months. But he was getting the very unsettling feeling that there was no way over, around or under the arrangement without a lengthy, messy lawsuit, which would hold up the sale of the ristorante.
* * *
This was not how things were supposed to go.
Lizzie resisted the urge to get up and start pacing. It was what she usually did when she was stuck in a tough spot. While growing up in the foster care system, she’d found herself in plenty of tough spots. But the one thing she’d learned through it all was not to give up—if it was important enough, there had to be a solution. It’d worked to keep Jules, her foster sister, with her through the years. She just had to take a deep breath and not panic.
Dante appeared to be a businessman. Surely he’d listen to logic. It was her last alternative. She sucked in a steadying breath, willing her mind to calm. “If you’ll read over the contract, you’ll see that your grandfather has agreed not only to mentor me but also to host a television crew. We’re doing a reality spot for one of the cooking shows. It’s been in the works for months now. Your grandfather was very excited about the project and how it’d give this place—” she waved her hand around at the restaurant that had a very distinct air about it “—international recognition. Just think of all the people that would know the name Ristorante Massimo.”
Dante’s eyes lit up with interest. “Do you have some numbers to back up your claims?”
She would have brought them, if she’d known she’d need them. “Your grandfather is confident in the value of these television segments. He has made numerous appearances on the culinary channel and has made quite a name for himself.”
“I know. I was here for every one of those appearances.”
She studied Dante’s face for some recollection of him. His tanned skin. His dark eyes. His strong jaw. And those lips... Oh, they looked good enough to kiss into submission... She jerked her attention back to the conversation. “Why don’t I recall seeing you in any of them?”
“Because I took a very small role in them. I didn’t understand why my grandfather would sign up for those television appearances.”
Her gaze narrowed in on him. “Do you have something against people on television?”
“No.” He crossed his arms and leaned back, rocking his chair on the rear two legs. “I just think in a lot of cases they misrepresent life. They give people false hope that they’ll be overnight successes. Most of the time life doesn’t work that way. Life is a lot harder.”
There was a glimmer of something in his eyes. Was it regret? Or pain? In a blink, his feelings were once again hidden. She was locked out. And for some reason that bothered her. Not that it should—it wasn’t as though they were friends. She didn’t even know him.
Not about to waste her time debating the positive and negative points of television, she decided to turn the conversation back around to her reason for being here. “Surely your grandfather will be back soon. After all, he has a restaurant to run.”
“I’m afraid that he won’t be returning.”
“He won’t?” This was news to her. Surely he couldn’t be right. “But we have an agreement. And he was so eager for us to begin.”
Dante rubbed his jaw as though trying to decide if he should say more. His dark gaze studied her intently. It made her want to squirm in her seat but she resisted.
“Whatever you’re thinking, just say it. I need to know what’s going on.”
Dante sighed. “My grandfather recently experienced a stroke. He has since moved to the country.”
“Oh, no.” She pressed a hand to her chest. This was so much worse than she’d imagined. “Is he going to be all right?”
Dante’s brows lifted as though he was surprised by her concern. “Yes, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He’s getting therapy.”
“Thank goodness. Your grandfather seemed so lively and active. I just can’t imagine that happening to him.”
She thought back to their lively emails and chatty phone conversations. Massimo’s voice had been rich and robust like a dark roast espresso. He was what she thought of when she imagined having a grandfather of her own. “He was so full of life.”
“How exactly did you get to know him?”
Perhaps she’d said too much. It wasn’t as if she and Massimo were that close. “At first, the production group put us in touch. We emailed back and forth. Then we started talking on the phone, discussing how we wanted to handle the time slots. After all, they are short, so we couldn’t get too elaborate. But then again, we didn’t want to skimp and do just the basics.”
“Sounds like you two talked quite a bit.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t like we talked every day. More like when one of us had a good idea. But that was hampered by the time difference. And then recently the calls stopped. When I phoned here I was merely told that he wasn’t available and that they’d give him a message.”
Dante’s eyes opened wide as though a thought had come to him. “I remember seeing those messages. I had no idea who you were or what you wanted. I was beginning to wonder if my grandfather had a girlfriend on the side.”
“Nope, it was me. And now that you know the whole story, what’s yours?”
“My what?”
“Story. I take it you run this place for your grandfather.”
His brows furrowed together as though he knew where this conversation was leading. “Yes, I do.”
“Have you worked here long?” She wanted as much information as possible so she could plot out a backup plan.
He hesitantly nodded.
“That must be wonderful to learn from such a talented chef.” There had to be a way to salvage this deal. But she needed to know more. “When did you start working with your grandfather?”
“When
