Sylvia Day - Afterburn

I didn’t look at Jax again, but I still got the same message from him.

* * *

I CALLED CHAD WILLIAMS as soon as I passed through the turnstiles in the lobby. “Hey,” I said when I heard his smooth Southern drawl. “It’s Gianna.”

“I was hoping you’d call.”

“Do you have dinner plans?”

“Ah—I can break them.”

I smiled, feeling a little guilty about preempting whoever was going to be ditched, but it felt good to have a little ego-stroking. My confidence had taken a beating from seeing Jax again.

I couldn’t forget how he’d been with me long ago. Frisky, teasing, affectionate. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel him come up behind me, sliding my hair out of the way to press his beautiful mouth against my throat. I could still hear the way he’d groan my name when he was inside me, as if the pleasure were too great to stand.

“Gianna? You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I started pulling out the pins that restrained my straightened hair into a sleek chignon. “I know a charming Italian place. Cozy. Casual. Excellent food.”

“You’ve got yourself a date.”

“I’ll call the car service. I can pick you up in about fifteen minutes. Will that work?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

TRUE TO HIS WORD, Chad was standing on the sidewalk when the car pulled up. He wore loose-fitting black jeans, boots and a dark green Henley that went great with his eyes. As far as dates went, he was prime.

He started toward the cab, then jumped back with a curse as a bike messenger sped by.

“Christ almighty,” he muttered as he settled into the seat beside me. He looked me over as we merged back into rush-hour traffic. “I like your hair down. It suits you.”

“Thank you.” It’d taken me a while to get used to wearing it up. It was so thick and heavy, the weight of it gave me headaches...like the one I had at that moment.

“So,” I began, “I have to confess—”

“Hope it’s sinful.”

“Uh, no. I’m taking you to my parents’ place.”

His brows rose. “You’re taking me to meet your folks?”

“Yep. They own a restaurant. We won’t have trouble getting a table without a reservation—usually impossible on a Thursday night—and they won’t rush us off, either.”

“You planning on keeping me around awhile?” he teased.

“I’d like to. I think we could work really well together.”

Chad nodded, sobering. “Stacy knows what you’re offering is exactly what we need, but...she’s sleeping with Ian and it’s screwing everything up.”

“I figured.” Ian Pembry was a suave and distinguished fifty-year-old man with silvery gray hair and striking blue eyes. He wasn’t handsome in the usual sense, but he had charisma and a bank balance that made a lot of women overlook his flaws. Stacy had her work cut out for her; since Lei, he’d never stayed with any lover long. “What’s he offering you to stay with him?”

And where does Jax fit in? Had seeing me knocked him for a loop at all?

“Ian says he can put something together like you’ve presented and he can do it better, because Lei doesn’t have what it takes. That’s why she’s poaching his talent.”

“You know that’s crap.”

“I do, yeah.” He smiled. “You wouldn’t be working for her if she was second-rate.”

“And the Mondego resort chain is five-star all the way,” I reminded him. “They wouldn’t work with someone second-rate, either. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Chad. Don’t let Stacy take it away from you.”

“Goddamn it.” His head fell back against the seat rest. “I don’t think we can make it separately. That’s why the idea of the dueling kitchens was going to work.”

“It will work. But you can do it on your own, too.”

He looked at me, his gaze searching. “Give it to me straight, Gianna. You’ll say anything to close this deal, won’t you?”

I thought about Jax and what he’d said about business not being personal. For me it was always personal. I cared.

“I’ve got my reasons,” I admitted, Jax now being one of them. I’d worked too hard to have him stroll in, toss his money around and ruin everything. “But I wouldn’t screw you over. It doesn’t get Lei or me anywhere if you’re not successful. I promise you, I won’t disappear as soon as the ink is dry.”

“And now I’ll know how to track you down through your folks,” he said, relaxing.

“Over thirty years in the same location.”

“I guess that’s as good a guarantee as anyone can get.”

* * *

MY FAMILY PULLED out all the stops when we got to Rossi’s, deducing who Chad was from my previous descriptions. We were seated at a corner table and everyone came by to introduce themselves, giving Chad a heaping dose of Rossi hospitality.

I had Chad take the bench seat facing the rest of the restaurant, while I took the single chair across from him. I wanted him to feel the energy, to see the faces of customers enjoying a great meal. I wanted him to remember why he wanted what Savor was offering him.

Over a toast, he said, “You’re right. This place is great.”

“I’m never going to lie to you.”

He laughed, and I enjoyed the sound. It was a bit wild, a lot free. Very much like the man himself. I was attracted to him on a comfortable level. Nothing like the explosion of body and mind I’d felt from the very first second I’d laid eyes on Jax, but then no one elicited that reaction but Jackson Rutledge.

“Smart bringing me here,” he said, running his fingertip around the lip of his wineglass. I suspected he’d prefer beer, but he didn’t ask for it. “Making me see you’ve got the business in your blood, too. It’s not just a job.”

“My family just opened our second Rossi’s in Upper Saddle River.”

“Where’s that?”

“New Jersey. Posh as hell. My brother Nico is spearheading it. Just passed the three-month mark.”

“So why not hook your family up with the Mondego?”

“It’s not what they want. They want this—” I gestured around the restaurant with a sweep of my hand. “Community. Franchising was never their dream.”

He studied me. “You make it sound like your dreams are different.”

I sat back. “I suppose they are. I want to help them get what they want, but I want something different.”

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