Chapter 7

ASHLEY

I feel like I’m going to throw up as I watch the very leggy blonde in front of me wrap her arms around Mr. Mancini, pulling him into a very tight hug. I meet his eyes, but aside from shock, I can’t tell what the hell he’s thinking. I know exactly what I’m thinking, though.

I’ve been such an idiot! What happened last night and this morning didn’t mean shit to him. God, I feel so stupid. He probably kisses countless women. And what was the most important moment of my life so far, probably didn’t mean anything to him except just another kiss from some woman throwing themselves at him.

Forcing my legs to move, I curse everything in the universe for putting them at one of my tables. I take out my pad and give the world’s fakest smile.

“Hello, my name is Ashley, and I’ll be your waitress for this evening. Can I start you out with a drink and some appetizers?”

I avoid Mr. Mancini’s eyes and instead focus on the beautiful woman seated across from him.

“I’ll have a glass of the house red,” she says.

“And for you, sir?” I ask, turning my head but still avoiding direct eye contact.

“Ashley, this is ridiculous. Stop acting like you don’t know me.”

I’m surprised by his words, surprised enough to look up and meet those gorgeous dark eyes of his. He’s looking at me as if he’s completely confused by my reaction to him.

“You know each other?” the blonde asks, and she doesn’t sound too pleased about it.

“Yes, we saw each other just this morning actually,” Mr. Mancini says with a grin. Even in this extremely awkward situation, that smile of his still manages to set my body aflame, and I feel my pussy immediately respond to him.

“Oh, do tell.”

I notice her voice has reached icy, frigid levels.

“I’m his daughter’s best friend,” I say, noticing the instant relief in her eyes.

“Oh, how sweet,” she says with a grin that makes me want to smack her stupid, beautiful face.

“What would you like to drink, Mr. Mancini?” I ask, just wanting to get the hell out of there.

“I’ll take a whiskey, please. Thank you, Ashley.”

I try not to think about how much I love the sound of my name on his lips.

Quickly getting their drinks, I drop them off and take their dinner orders. I scurry off, glad to be free of them for at least a few minutes. My other tables keep me busy, but I can’t keep my eyes from constantly darting back to their table. The woman, Jennifer I heard him call her, is all smiles and wide eyes, and I imagine that’s exactly how I look when I’m with him. I want to kick myself.

They’re busy talking about something, but I’m not sure what. When I bring them their plates, they stop talking as soon as they see me, so I have no idea what’s keeping them so deep in conversation.

Before I can make my escape, Jennifer says, “Um, waitress,” and holds her glass out to me.

“My name is Ashley,” I say, taking her glass.

“Whatever. I didn’t like the taste of that. I’d like a different wine.” I hold up the empty glass and look at her.

“Is there a problem?” She raises a finely sculpted eyebrow at me.

“No,” I say because it’s not worth the fuss, but it takes all my willpower to turn around and get her another glass of wine. I pour her another glass from the same bottle and have to fight my smile as I bring it to her.

“I hope this is more to your liking,” I say, placing it in front of her.

She takes a sip like she’s a fucking world-class wine taster and gives a sigh of appreciation.

“Much better,” she says with a bitchy smile.

“So glad to hear that,” I say with so much sarcasm that I hear Mr. Mancini stifle a laugh with a cough.

I leave their table alone while they eat and notice the owner go over to say hello to them. I knew he would at some point. Mr. Mancini is good for business, but he also speaks Italian, and Alfonso never misses an opportunity to talk to someone from the old country.

Hearing the string of Italian coming out of Mr. Mancini’s mouth isn’t helping me to keep my body in check. Judging by the look on Jennifer’s face, it’s also quite the aphrodisiac for her as well. Wonderful.

When I can’t avoid their table any longer, I make a quick run to the kitchen, and by the time I come out, Jennifer is alone at the table, looking beautiful and smug.

“Would you like to order a dessert?”

She gives me a wicked grin and says, “No. We’re quite anxious to get back to his house. Can you hurry up with the check?”

My stomach drops at her words, and I grit my teeth to stop my eyes from watering. I will not give her the satisfaction of knowing how deeply her words have cut me. With a nod, I turn and leave. Mr. Mancini walks toward me on the way to his table, and when he tries to stop me, I jerk my arm away and keep walking. He calls after me, but I ignore it.

I grab their bill and beg one of my coworkers to drop it off and handle the payment. She comes back a few minutes later.

“He told me to make sure you get this,” she says holding out a piece of paper. “My god, you’re so lucky. He was fucking gorgeous! All my tables are filled with grumpy, old men tonight.”

I thank her and when I’m alone, I open the slip of paper.

Ashley, I’m sorry for how rude Jennifer was to you. Please meet me out front. I’d like to speak to you.