My Italian Billionaire: A BWWM Italian Billionaire Romance (10 page)

This time, she stayed by his side and guided him through the grilled cheese-making process. "You don't want to flip too late. You can always flip a second time if you have to."

"Never thought being early might be a good thing."

She swatted his shoulder. "I do recall you have a habit of leaving drops of precum on yourself."

"But that's a present." He grinned broadly, ducking as she swatted him again.

"There's a lot of ways to be creative with grilled cheese. You can add bacon and tomato, that's a favorite of mine. Or you can use spicier cheese and jalapenos. Do you like avocado? That with pepper jack and lime juice, maybe a little lime zest too… Or pesto and provolone and mozzarella." She tapped his wrist. "Flip now."

He obeyed.

"A little on the light side, but that's okay." She set about buttering more bread slices. "Two sandwiches each?"

"Good idea." He'd worked up an appetite, so maybe he'd want a third. Or another helping of her. "And that bacon one sounds amazing. I love bacon."

"Why am I not surprised?" she teased. She took the cheese and stored it in her fridge. "You can take it back to your place then. A whole pound for some grilled cheese sandwiches." Her laughter washed over him.

"You can keep it." He flipped the sandwiches. Maybe not quite golden but close enough.

She grabbed the rest of the bread and put it in the bag he'd brought. "What's this?"

"Oh. That. It's a—"

"Are all of these places hiring?"

"Yes." Only five. He'd hoped for more than that, but that couldn't be helped.

"You didn't have to do all that."

Something in the way her words seem to catch had him rushing to take the sandwiches off the burner and onto a plate so he could face her. She looked like she was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to rip him a new one. "Did I do something wrong?"

Megan exhaled loudly. "No," she said, but her tone suggested otherwise.

"I was only trying to help."

"I know." She walked out of the kitchen.

Had he wounded her pride somehow? He'd never intended to hurt her, to overstep.

This Megan, there was a lot about her he didn't know yet it seemed.

Chapter Twelve: Frustration

It was sweet, him trying to be a white knight, but she didn't need a knight, white or otherwise. All she needed was a job. Which, admittedly, was what he was trying to be a knight about. But the names on the short list had her stomach churning. Four- and five-star restaurants. Places she'd love to work one day, but places she'd be laughed at if she applied to them now.

Right now, her ego couldn't take being laughed at.

She forced herself to return to him in the kitchen. "Let's eat."

His dark eyes were mesmerizing and wide. "Megan, I wasn't trying to overstep—"

"You didn't." She grabbed a plate. "I'm starving."

He winked as he followed her. "I wonder what could have worked up your appetite."

"I don't know," she teased. "It's a mystery."

He took the first bite. "Mmm. This is good."

Megan laughed. "You sound surprised."

"Hey, in case you couldn't tell, I'm not exactly a cook."

"No?" She gasped and put a hand to her chest. "I never would've realized that."

His eyes narrowed. "Mock me, will you?" He jerked his chin toward her plate. "Go ahead and try it."

It
was
good. Simple and ordinary, but since they had made it together, it was the tastiest traditional grilled cheese she'd ever eaten. "Not bad," she conceded.

He sighed. "Maybe you should be a food critic as well as a chef."

Her nose wrinkled. "Wouldn't that be a little bit of a conflict of interests?"

"Maybe. Yeah, I guess so." His sheepish smile had her lips curling upward.

Maybe it was silly for her to be so stubborn about the job search. She couldn't put it off any longer. As soon as he left, she'd have to start making phone calls herself.

Not that she wanted him to leave right away.

Although there was one issue that had to be resolved.

She waited until they'd finished their sandwiches to broach the subject. "So, Lucca, that's twice now you cooked for me."

"Only one meal though." He sighed. "My grandmother would be so disappointed in me. Italians are known for cooking enough food for ten times the amount of guests. I can't even cook enough for two."

She refused to be sidetracked by his charming plea for pity. "It's my turn to return the favor. Are you free for dinner tomorrow?"

His dark eyes brightened. "I think I just might be."

"Good. What time can I come over? Do you have any food allergies? What kind of meals are your favorite? Obviously, you have to love anything Italian, but I won't dare touch that with a ten-foot pole since nothing will compare to your grandmother's." She was rambling, she knew it, but she couldn't stop herself. She almost didn't want him to speak because she knew what would happen when he did.

And he didn't disappoint her, although it made her jaw clench and her hands on her lap curl into fists.

"Why not here?" He glanced around. "I like the memories we're making here."

Her face a mask—she hoped—she stood, grabbed his plate, and put hers on top. On her heel, she turned away and marched into the kitchen.

"Megan…" He approached her and started to rub her shoulders.

It felt so good, his strong, skillful fingers working at the tension knots, but she shrugged him away. "I really should get started on the job hunt."

"Oh. Sure." He backed away. "Can I bring a bottle of wine over to dinner? Red or white? Or a… a blush?"

"You don't have to. I might need more time to put together a menu. I'll give you a call and let you know when to come over."

Lucca frowned. Even when unhappy, he was too damn good looking, and right now, she wished he wasn't quite so fine. "So it might not be tomorrow?"

"Maybe not. I'm sorry." She turned to the sink and started to clean up.

"Here. I made the mess. Let me—"

"You've done enough." Her sharp tone made her wince. "I appreciated all you did for me, with lunch and the list and everything…"

"But…"

She took a deep breath. "I'm not just a lay, okay? So if that's all I am to you, if you have another woman, or a wife, then go back to her and never come 'round here again."

"Megan, it's nothing like that," he protested.

"Then what is it? Because there's something." Her eyes widened. "Are you just using me to try to forget your grief over losing your father?"

He winced. "Megan, I would never use—"

"You don't have to say anything." She pressed a finger to his lips. "I'm sorry I jumped all over you."

His hands ran down her arms to capture her hands. "I don't mind when you do that." His kiss was sweet, tender, and it started a slow burn between her legs.

"Hm." She smiled at him.

"When I'm ready, you can come over to my place." He took a deep breath. "I just… Right now… It's… well, it's a mess. I have to go through all of my father's things and it's not suitable for visitors."

Now she felt like a real heel. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be so pushy and demanding. I have no right to—"

"It's fine, Megan." He kissed her again, this time slipping a little tongue. "I should probably head back to the office. I hope you call me for dinner tomorrow. Or the next night. But not later than that."

She walked him to the door and closed it behind him with a sigh. So he had lived with his father? That surprised her. Or maybe he was just staying at his father's place until he got rid of everything. But it still bothered her that he seemed to hold her at arm's length when she wanted to learn more about him but was still so willing to rip her clothes off. And when she realized she didn't even know his last name yet, she grew annoyed all over again.

I'm just frustrated over the whole job thing and I'm pushing it onto him,
she tried to reason with herself as she started to call around to restaurants. It took her forever to make any progress so she decided to go out for a walk to try and cool her temper down.

At a red light, she spied a magazine vendor. To kill time until it was safe to walk, she approached the stand and glanced at the covers.

A familiar face jumped out oat her.
Father Dies, Son to Become CEO… If He Marries.

Well, now she knew his last name. Lucca Greccio. And he was worth a good chunk of money, if the magazine writer wasn't exaggerating. But what was this about him having to marry?

She grabbed the magazine off the rack and started to read, to the annoyance of the stand owner. "A source close to the Greccio family has leaked that Lucca Greccio will only become CEO of his late father's company if he marries before his thirtieth birthday."

Dazed, Megan shoved the magazine back into its spot. Never had she thought Lucca could be someone so important. Yeah, he dressed and carried himself well, and had a swagger and a way about him that screamed he was used to having things his way, but still… first in line to be CEO of a huge company?

But only if he marries.

Why hadn't he told her who he was? Why had he kept her away from anything personal?

Trust was the only thing she wanted from a relationship. Well, trust and respect. And honesty. He'd broken her trust, obviously not respected her enough to confide in her even with his last name, and hadn't been honest from the very beginning.

It's done with. It's over.

Chapter Thirteen: The Fallout

It was absurd the number of times he had checked his cell. He was acting like a schoolboy, hoping his crush would notice him.

Why hasn't she called?
He wondered for the hundredth time.

He'd set up a small tasting ceremony to determine which of the five catering companies he'd narrowed the field down to. Each had brought far too much food with them, so he invited his workers to partake in the eating so long as they gave their opinion as to which was the best.

When Cindy approached, he thought nothing of it until he saw her pinched lips. He held up a finger to the pudgy owner of one of the catering companies and stepped to the side so they could talk in a semblance of privacy.

"Is something wrong?"

She handed him a folder.

That she hadn't said anything made him nervous. He opened the folder to see a magazine, his face on the cover, a photo he hadn't been prepared for, taken at the funeral if he wasn't mistaken. And the headline…

He muttered a few curses, some in English, more in Italian.

"Sir, I have no idea who would have—"

"It doesn't matter who." He grinded his teeth. It did matter. He refused to have a mole working for him, someone who would sell secrets for money.

"I'll find out who it was, sir." Cindy hurried away.

One more item to add to the list. At least most everyone was picking the same caterer, so that was decided, but if Megan didn't call him in the next hour, he'd have to figure out other dinner plans.

Which he didn't want to do.

He missed her already. Not just the way she felt in his arms or how she was the perfect height to rest her head on his shoulders. Her smile, her jokes, her teasing, the way her eyes lit up … Her voice. He missed hearing it.

He had it bad for her.

Lucca strolled over to the window, pulled out his phone, and called her. It rang twice then went to the answering machine.

Strange.

Neglecting to leave a message, he returned to the caterers. Maybe he'd just eat enough here to constitute dinner.

He even stayed at the office until six, waiting for her to call, but she never did. Even though he ate a lot earlier, his stomach demanded more food. Trying to bury his disappointment, he walked down the block and up another to a Thai restaurant. Although there was a line, when the hostess saw him, she brought him to a table immediately. His father had frequented the place and had brought Lucca with him for several dinners after long days of work.

It felt strange, surreal even, to be sitting here alone. He ordered an eggroll, spicy shrimp soup, and the chicken satay plate. The chicken, cabbage, and carrot inside the eggroll was delicious, even more so when dipped in the Thai honey sauce. As he was waiting for his soup, he took out his phone to see if Megan had called. She hadn't.

He returned the phone to his pocket and glanced up to see someone sitting across from him. A beautiful woman with familiar features, but he couldn't quite place her.

"Hello?" he said almost as a question.

"Hi, Lucca. It's me, Georgia." She held out her hand, but when he didn't reach out to shake it, she returned it to her lap. "Your father introduced us at the Christmas party last year."

"Ah, yes." He vaguely remembered that party. He'd drunk quite a bit and almost bedded a coworker until he came to his senses. Business and pleasure didn't go together in his world.