me forget how much I already had.
Nico came back, eyeing me. “Red or white?” he asked, setting his hand over mine and giving a soft squeeze.
He was a customer favorite at the bar, especially with the women. He was darkly handsome, with unruly hair and a wicked smile. A consummate flirt, he had his own fan club, ladies who hung out at the bar for both his great drinks and sexy banter.
“How about champagne?” Lei Yeung slid onto the bar stool next to me, recently vacated by a young couple whose reserved table had opened up.
I blinked.
She smiled at me, looking much younger than she had during our interview, dressed casually in jeans and a pink silk shell. Her hair was down and her face scrubbed free of makeup. “Lots of rave reviews about this place online.”
“Best Italian food ever,” I said, feeling my heartbeat quicken with renewed excitement.
“A lot of them say a great place got even greater over the past couple of years. Am I right in assuming that’s due to you putting into practice things you’ve learned?”
Nico set two flutes in front of us, then filled them halfway with bubbling champagne. “You’re right,” he said, butting in.
Lei caught the stem of her glass and stroked it with her fingers. Her gaze caught mine. Nico, who was good at knowing when to disappear, moved down the bar.
“To get back to what you said...” she began. I started to cringe, then straightened up. Lei Yeung hadn’t made a special trip just to berate me. “Ian underestimated me, but he didn’t take advantage of me. Blaming him would give him too much credit. I left the door open and he walked through it.”
I nodded. The exact circumstances of their split were private, but I’d inferred a lot from the reports in industry magazines and filled in the rest from gossip columns and blogs. Together they’d had a culinary empire comprised of a stable of celebrity chefs, several restaurant chains, a line of cookbooks and affordable cookware that sold in the millions. Then Pembry had announced the launch of a new chain of eateries bankrolled by A-list actors and actresses—but Lei hadn’t been part of that.
“He taught me a lot,” she went on. “And I’ve come to realize he got as much out of that as I did.” She paused, thoughtful. “I’m getting too used to myself and the way I’ve always done things. I need fresh eyes. I want to feed off someone else’s hunger.”
“You want a protégée.”
“Exactly.” Her mouth curved. “I didn’t realize that until you pointed it out. I knew I was looking for something, but I couldn’t say what it was.”
I was totally thrilled but kept my tone professional. I swiveled toward her. “I’m in, if you want me.”
“Forget about normal hours,” she warned. “This isn’t a nine-to-five gig. I’ll need you on weekends, and I might call in the middle of the night.... I work all the time.”
“I won’t complain.”
“I will.” Angelo came up behind us. All the Rossi sons had figured out who I was talking to and, as usual, none of them were shy. “I need to see her every once in a while.”
I elbowed him. We shared a sprawling, half-finished loft apartment in Brooklyn—all three of my brothers, me and Angelo’s wife, Denise. Most of the time we bitched about seeing one another too often.
Lei thrust out her hand and introduced herself to Nico and Angelo, then to my mom, who had wandered back over to see what the fuss was about. My dad and Vincent gave shout-outs through the service window. A menu was set in front of Lei, along with a basket of fresh bread and olive oil imported from a small farm in Tuscany.
“How’s the panna cotta?” Lei asked me.
“You’ll never have better,” I replied. “Have you already had dinner?”
“Not yet. Lesson number one—life’s too short. Don’t put off the good stuff.”
I bit on my lower lip to hold back a grin. “Does that mean I got the job?”
She held up her flute with a brisk nod. “Cheers.”
Chapter 2
One year later...
“GOD, THE RUSH,” Lei said, her feet tapping beneath the dining table. “It never gets old.”
I grinned, having caught the bug from her over the months we’d been working together. We’d experienced a lot of highs, but today—a cloudless late-September afternoon—was special. After months of finessing and wooing, we were going to close a deal that would snag two of Ian Pembry’s brightest stars. Payback for what he’d done to Lei long ago and a major coup for us.
Lei had dressed for the occasion and so had I. Her Diane von Fürstenberg wrap dress was vintage and her signature red. Paired with black boots, she looked fierce and sexy. I debuted a dark gold shell snagged from Donna Karan’s fall collection and the cigarette pants the designer had paired with them. The ensemble was chic and reflected a new me, a Gianna who’d evolved a lot over the previous year.
Impatient to finalize everything, I looked toward the entrance of the hotel bar and felt a surge of adrenaline when the Williams twins appeared as if on cue. Brother and sister made a striking pair, with auburn hair and jade-green eyes. They were a great team in the kitchen, having made a name for themselves with down-home Southern cooking updated with gourmet ingredients. The package they presented sold deluxe books and cute little tins of seasonings, but the truth wasn’t so pretty. Behind the scenes, they hated each other.
And that had been Pembry’s fatal mistake with his dynamic duo. He told them to suck it up and make it work, because they were making millions off their sibling success story. Lei had offered them what they really wanted—the chance to split up and shine on their own, while still capitalizing on their supposedly playful rivalry. Her plan was to build a chain of restaurants with dueling kitchens in the world-famous Mondego casinos and resorts.
“Chad. Stacy,” Lei greeted, rising to her feet along with me. “You’re both looking fabulous.”
Chad came over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before he even said hello to Lei. He’d been flirting with me for a while and it had become part of our negotiations with him.
I’ll admit I’d been tempted to do more than flirt on occasion, but thoughts of his sister retaliating held me back. Chad wasn’t a saint by any means, nursing a fierce ambitious streak. But Stacy was a real piece of work and she hated me more than her brother. Despite all my friendly overtures, she’d taken an instant dislike to me and that had seriously hindered the whole process.
Personally, I suspected she was sleeping with Ian Pembry—or had been once—and was carrying a torch for him. I thought that was why she didn’t like Lei, either, but maybe she was just one of those females who hated other women.
“I hope your rooms are comfortable,” I said, knowing damn well they were. The Four Seasons didn’t have its five-star reputation for nothing.
Stacy shrugged, her glossy hair sliding over her shoulder. She had an angelic face, pale with a smattering
