dinner, and so will you. And if it’s too damn hard to look at his sister, then you wait until you can speak to Gio alone, and you tell him the truth. But don’t let it keep you away from what is a very important dinner for your best friend. My son doesn’t hide from problems. He faces them head on. It’s the only way to win.”
“There is no winner or loser in this. Trust me, Gio would prefer I stay away from his sister.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I’d agree with you if I thought there was a chance in hell that was going to happen.” He paused at the door. “And watch your language. I raised you better than that.”
Kane lay in his bed in his Upper West Side apartment staring up at the dark ceiling. Getting involved in each other’s lives, regardless of whether or not they were asked to, was practically a family pastime. On a good day, it was one of the things Kane loved most about his family. There weren’t many Sanders, but they were fiercely protective of each other. It wasn’t surprising his father had stayed at his bedside the whole night.
Mortifying that at thirty-five Kane had given his father reason to, but Kane didn’t resent his intrusion. The older he got, the more he admired his father and the way he handled himself.
I just hope he’s wrong this time.
I can’t have feelings for Gigi. Gio would never forgive me.
Never before had he been faced with a temptation he didn’t know if he could resist. There had to be something he could do to take his mind off how much he wanted Gigi. Kane rolled over and dialed the first number on his phone. As soon as he heard someone pick up, he said, “Lynn, it’s Kane. Would you like to attend a party with me tonight?”
Chapter Nine
‡
G igi stepped away from the crowd of people who had spilled into every downstairs room of her brother’s home and slipped into what she hoped was the sanctuary of the kitchen. Her face was sore from smiling, and she’d thought she was a person who enjoyed hugs, but now she realized everything was better in moderation. In the beginning she’d tried to remember the names of everyone who rushed over and threw their arms around her as if they weren’t complete strangers to her. It was odd to be in a house full of people who wanted to meet her and still feel so alone.
Instead of the quiet she’d sought, the kitchen was a flurry of cooks and staff, rushing to fill plates. A man with a thick French accent was barking orders while the man beside him grew more sweaty and nervous. He picked a shrimp spring roll off a tray and held it up. “Look at this. I wouldn’t serve this to my dog. When did you prepare these? Yesterday? Last week? I hope sometime this year, yes? You cannot serve this. Start over.”
The man beside him waved a hand frantically around him. “Start over? There is no time. We’ll have to make do with what we have.”
The Frenchman began to swear in French. “You’re fired. Get out of this kitchen.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re not the one who hired me.”
The Frenchman walked toward him while shedding his dinner coat. “But I am the one who will throw you out the door with my bare hands. Your choice, walk or fly.” He picked up the tray of appetizers and dumped the contents into the trash. “I could not sleep tonight if I let this pass as food.”
Standing at the door of the kitchen, the man held up his phone. “I don’t know what to do. If I call my brother and tell him I messed up the first gig he put me in charge of, he’ll never trust me with one again. Should I leave? Do I take my staff with me? You . . . or someone . . . signed a contract. You’ll still have to pay for today. I don’t have the money to pay my brother for all these supplies if you don’t. I’m sorry they aren’t perfect. I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like. All I know is I need this job, and if I leave I can kiss it goodbye, brother or no brother.”
After saying something harshly
“There is no winner or loser in this. Trust me, Gio would prefer I stay away from his sister.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I’d agree with you if I thought there was a chance in hell that was going to happen.” He paused at the door. “And watch your language. I raised you better than that.”
Kane lay in his bed in his Upper West Side apartment staring up at the dark ceiling. Getting involved in each other’s lives, regardless of whether or not they were asked to, was practically a family pastime. On a good day, it was one of the things Kane loved most about his family. There weren’t many Sanders, but they were fiercely protective of each other. It wasn’t surprising his father had stayed at his bedside the whole night.
Mortifying that at thirty-five Kane had given his father reason to, but Kane didn’t resent his intrusion. The older he got, the more he admired his father and the way he handled himself.
I just hope he’s wrong this time.
I can’t have feelings for Gigi. Gio would never forgive me.
Never before had he been faced with a temptation he didn’t know if he could resist. There had to be something he could do to take his mind off how much he wanted Gigi. Kane rolled over and dialed the first number on his phone. As soon as he heard someone pick up, he said, “Lynn, it’s Kane. Would you like to attend a party with me tonight?”
Chapter Nine
‡
G igi stepped away from the crowd of people who had spilled into every downstairs room of her brother’s home and slipped into what she hoped was the sanctuary of the kitchen. Her face was sore from smiling, and she’d thought she was a person who enjoyed hugs, but now she realized everything was better in moderation. In the beginning she’d tried to remember the names of everyone who rushed over and threw their arms around her as if they weren’t complete strangers to her. It was odd to be in a house full of people who wanted to meet her and still feel so alone.
Instead of the quiet she’d sought, the kitchen was a flurry of cooks and staff, rushing to fill plates. A man with a thick French accent was barking orders while the man beside him grew more sweaty and nervous. He picked a shrimp spring roll off a tray and held it up. “Look at this. I wouldn’t serve this to my dog. When did you prepare these? Yesterday? Last week? I hope sometime this year, yes? You cannot serve this. Start over.”
The man beside him waved a hand frantically around him. “Start over? There is no time. We’ll have to make do with what we have.”
The Frenchman began to swear in French. “You’re fired. Get out of this kitchen.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re not the one who hired me.”
The Frenchman walked toward him while shedding his dinner coat. “But I am the one who will throw you out the door with my bare hands. Your choice, walk or fly.” He picked up the tray of appetizers and dumped the contents into the trash. “I could not sleep tonight if I let this pass as food.”
Standing at the door of the kitchen, the man held up his phone. “I don’t know what to do. If I call my brother and tell him I messed up the first gig he put me in charge of, he’ll never trust me with one again. Should I leave? Do I take my staff with me? You . . . or someone . . . signed a contract. You’ll still have to pay for today. I don’t have the money to pay my brother for all these supplies if you don’t. I’m sorry they aren’t perfect. I don’t know what they’re supposed to look like. All I know is I need this job, and if I leave I can kiss it goodbye, brother or no brother.”
After saying something harshly
Similar Books
