The Pact Book 2

ALEXANDRIA

“What do you mean he’s still here?” My voice jumps up a notch, and Lucy, my hostess, looks like she’s run out of words.

For five straight days, Sylvester Ferraro has shown up at my restaurant. Every single time, it’s the same old song and dance.

He demands to see me, reminds me that my debt is gone, invites me to dine with him, and when I refuse, he eats alone.

Today, he showed up during lunch, and now that dinner service is over, Lucy tells me he’s still here. The man is haunting my thoughts.

Why does he have to be here?

“He said he’s trying a new approach,” Lucy says, completely unaware of my internal struggle. “He’s really handsome,” she adds.

Yes, he is, but I don’t need a man in my life. I might want one, but I don’t need one.

I can’t do that to Noah, and let’s be real, my track record isn’t great.

Getting drunk and sleeping with a stranger on New Year’s Eve in New York—definitely not my finest moment.

“Tell him I’ve gone home,” I instruct Lucy, who nods in agreement.

“And here I thought you were the honest one,” a deep male voice interrupts before Lucy can relay my message.

Lucy glances back and forth between us, unsure of her next move.

“Go home, Luce.”

“You sure?”

“Christian is sending a car for me.”

“Tell Noah I said hi!” she chirps, and I wince.

Sylvester watches Lucy leave before turning back to me.

“Noah?” His voice is laced with curiosity as he asks the one question I wish he hadn’t.

“Was the meal not to your satisfaction?” I deflect, and his lips curl up slightly, as if he’s onto me.

“Quite the opposite. I particularly enjoyed dessert. My waitress said you made it.”

“Dessert was the only part of the kitchen my father let me control,” I admit with a melancholy smile. “What did you have?” I ask before I can stop myself, and he grins.

“Tiramisu.”

I can’t help but return his smile. Realizing I’ve let my guard down, I shake my head and clear my throat.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Ferraro?”

“Sylvester, please. I was wondering if you’ve given any more thought to my proposal?”

“Proposal?”

“Making things right with you.”

“I told you we’re fine, Mr. Ferraro.”

“Sylvester.”

“There’s nothing to make right.”

“I beg to differ, pet. Maybe I could give you a ride home?”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re making this awfully hard for me, Alexandria.”

“I’m not going to date you, Sylvester.”

“Drinks?” he suggests without missing a beat, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Goodnight, Sylvester.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”

“And I’ll try again.”

“Why?” I ask, and his cool demeanor falters slightly. “Be honest with me, Sylvester. What made you interested in me? I’ve seen the women you date.”

“Googled me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. I stay silent, and he sighs.

“Two reasons. One, you’re fifty times more interesting than any woman I’ve ever dated and two, your cousin pulled his investment from our family business.”

“Christian is involved in—”

“Our legitimate family business.” Sylvester interrupts before I can panic.

“So you’re pursuing me so that my cousin will reinvest?”

“My brothers and cousin insisted, but I was grateful because it gave me a reason to see you again.”

“Ahh.”

“No, Alexandria, please. I really did want a reason to see you again. I—”

“Goodnight, Sylvester. Lock the door on your way out.”

SYLVESTER

She just left. That moment keeps replaying in my mind. She grabbed her purse and phone, walked out of her office without looking back, and left me to close up her restaurant.

It took me hours to fall asleep, and even then, I dreamed of her. So when Marcello called at six in the morning, I wasn’t thrilled.

“Good job,” he says in English, his Italian accent less noticeable today.

“Good job with what?”

“With the Romano girl.”

I sit up straight in my bed.

“Alexandria?”

“Yeah, I think that’s her name. But good job. De Luca reinvested early this morning.”

Marcello keeps talking about business, even puts his wife Anna on the phone, but I don’t hear a word.

She talked to her cousin. Alexandria talked to him.

Did she do it because she cares or because she wants me to have no reason to see her?

***

And so, she got her wish. I haven’t seen her in almost four damn months. It’s been the longest four months of my life.

“What’s up with you?” Max asks when I groan for probably the tenth time in the past hour.

“I need to see her.”

“Who?”

“Alexandria.”

“The Romano girl? Didn’t she reject you?”

I ignore him and dial a few numbers before pressing my phone to my ear.

“Hi, you’ve reached The Romano. This is Lucy. How can I assist you?”

“Lucy, it’s Sylvester Ferraro.”

“Wow, hi. It’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has. Is my table available tonight?”

“Eight okay?”

“Will Ms. Romano be there?”

“Allie? She’s always there,” Lucy chuckles.

The thought of Alexandria working herself to the bone at the restaurant stirs a protective feeling in me.

After saying goodbye to Lucy, I turn to my younger brother, who’s grinning knowingly.

“Got dinner plans?”

“Just shut up.”

The rest of my day drags on, and I find myself watching the clock, counting down the minutes until I can see Alexandria.

I push open the restaurant doors at a quarter to eight, unable to wait any longer.

I spot her right away, her eyes focused on the reservation book. Her hair is longer, but that’s to be expected.

“Just a moment,” she says without looking up, obviously aware of my presence. She scribbles a note in the margin of the book. “Okay, how can I—Sylvester?”

“Good evening, Alexandria. I trust you’re well.”

She looks utterly surprised to see me.

“What are you…w-what are…what?” She stumbles over her words, and I enjoy the fact that my presence has turned her into a flustered mess instead of the fiery woman who usually wants to kick my ass.

“Why am I here? Well, I’d very much like to have dinner with you.”

“I’m—”

“She’s free.” A perky blonde steps up behind her, her American accent standing out as she speaks in English.

She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her.

“I’ll cover the desk until Lucy gets back. Go have fun, Allie.” The blonde nudges her in my direction, and Alexandria turns to glare at her.

“Frankie, you need to get home,” Alexandria says, her eyes still narrowed.

“Christian can play dad for another half hour. The kids will love it.” The blonde laughs.

Christian?

That’s why she looks familiar. This is the infamous Francesca De Luca, former stripper turned billionaire’s wife and novelist.

“Sylvester Ferraro.” I extend my hand to her, and she grins.

“Frankie De Luca.” She shakes my hand enthusiastically. “Take good care of my Allie now. Don’t you hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I wink, and Alexandria groans beside me.

“Take table twelve.” Frankie points to a corner table. “See you at home, Allie.”

With a huff, Alexandria heads toward the table.

I quicken my pace to catch up to her and rest my hand on her lower back as we walk. My touch makes her gasp slightly, and the sound instantly arouses me.

Damn temptress.

“Thank you,” I say softly as she takes the chair I offer her.

“For dinner or for leaving my reservation desk in the hands of someone who only knows two phrases in Italian, neither of which is appropriate for my family business?”

Despite her apparent annoyance, there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes as she looks back at Frankie.

“Both.”

I catch her eye and for a moment, neither of us moves or breathes.

“I’m going to be honest, Alexandria. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Her eyes widen at my confession, and her cheeks flush pink.

ALEXANDRIA

Damn him!

Damn this charming Italian man who always knows just what to say.

How dare he tell me that!

I’m relieved when the waiter comes over, saving me from having to respond.

I order for us when Sylvester simply leans back in his chair with a “go ahead” gesture and a small smile.

“Maybe we could have coffee tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?” I tease, and Sylvester shrugs.

“When I see something good, I don’t want to let it slip away, Alexandria.”

***

“Sylvester Ferraro has weaseled his way into my life,” I complain to Frankie over breakfast, and she laughs.

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I glare at her, even though deep down I know she’s right. I like him, I really do. He’s funny, quick-witted, charming, and he seems to enjoy “pursuing” me.

The kids burst into the kitchen, and just like that, the subject changes.

I’ve seen Sylvester every day for the past two weeks. Whether it’s dinner or lunch, he meets me at the restaurant and we share a meal.

We never run out of things to talk about. He’s told me about his family, the legal stuff.

His mom is German and his dad is Italian, and once he told me, his looks and body shape made so much sense.

He has two brothers and a cousin he’s very close to, and I smile at the thought.

Other than Christian, I don’t see much of my family. Even less after I had Noah, many of our religious family members disagreed with me having a baby out of wedlock.

I share a lot with Sylvester but not everything. Noah is the one part of my life I keep to myself. I’m not sure I’m ready to open up about that.

“Morning.” Christian greets the room with his usual confidence. “Allie, I want to talk business.”

His CEO smirk scares me a little, but his wife nudges me forward, and I follow Christian into the foyer.

“What’s up?”

“How’s everything?” he asks, and I study him for a moment, wondering how much Frankie has told him.

“Fine.”

“Still in debt?”

“The restaurant is struggling, but the Ferraro debt is gone.”

“Good.”

“I know you had a hand in it, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“When Sylvester mentioned you pulled your investment, I was touched and also surprised.”

“You’ve been talking to Sylvester Ferraro?”

“Well, yeah.” I shrug.

“You like him,” Christian states, not asking.

I can’t deny it, not even to myself. There’s something about Sylvester Ferraro that draws me in.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Christian admits. “I wouldn’t tell you what to do, but it makes me uneasy.”

“I appreciate your concern. Is that all you wanted to discuss?”

“Actually, no.” Christian runs his fingers through his hair, a sure sign he’s nervous. “I want to buy the restaurant. Make it part of De Luca Corp. I want to take care of you.”

“Chris…”

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but just consider it.”

And consider it I do. I even bring it up with Sylvester, who agrees it’s a smart business move.

He stopped by earlier today, mentioning he had some business to take care of later. I didn’t press for details. I’m not sure I would have liked his answer.

“Mama.” Noah’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. He strolls into my office, his school bag sliding off his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Hello, sweetheart. How was school?”

“Boring.” Noah shrugs. He’s never been one for classroom learning.

“Any homework?”

“No…”

“Noah.” I use my mom voice, and he quickly looks away.

“Fine, yes, but it’s not much.”

“Well, then it shouldn’t take you long.” I can’t help but smirk at my son, who rolls his eyes in response. “Let’s go. You can sit at the bar while I head back to the kitchen.”