Mr. Fiancé(174)

However, Tomasso Bertoli wasn’t a man that I could just play with. He wasn’t a man that I could just use to fill that particular need. Sure, he was sexy, but I needed to maintain at least a polite relationship with him in order to increase the chances of our families working together.

I saw that there was a message on my phone when I pulled it out, and that it was from him. He sent me a message at noon, saying he'd be by the convention center whenever I was ready. I hit the dial button and waited.

"Hello?" Tomasso said when he picked up, and I couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice, even as I tried to fight it. "Luisa?"

"Yes, Tomasso, it’s me. I got your message. Are you in the area?"

"Yes, I was just doing a little shopping at a store nearby. Are you on break?" he said, sounding less cocky than he had the night before. "If so, I can meet you in about ten minutes."

"That sounds fine. I'll be in the north side of the building. Can you meet me there?"

"That would be great. I'll see you in less than ten."

He hung up, and I had to admit that his tone of anticipation bled over onto me. I was looking forward to seeing him. I started heading toward the north exit slowly, pausing to check out a few booths and drop off my business card.

I waited by the north entrance and was surprised when he walked up. Instead of the slicked back, buttoned down wise guy I'd expected from the day before, he'd gone more casual, with a pair of jeans and a shirt. "Hello."

He stopped, looking at me. "Wow. You look beautiful. I mean, not that you didn’t last night.”

His honest compliment stirred me, and I couldn't help it. I smiled. "You look much more relaxed than last night. Shall we?"

He nodded, and we started back toward the parking lot. "If you don't mind, there's a little cafe just around the corner," Tomasso said. "I've never been there, but they've got a big picture of apple pie out front, and to be honest, I could use some."

I thought about it and nodded. “Sounds great. I didn’t have much for lunch other than some samples from the convention."

We walked, my feet only slightly aching as I'd been on my feet all morning in high heels. "This is a part of Seattle I haven't missed the past four years,” Tomasso said, looking up at the sky.

I chuckled and agreed. “It’s definitely not something to inspire great works of art. On the other hand, I assume that means you value the good weather days all that much more."

"I suppose," Tomasso said. "To be honest, I don't get as much of a chance to look up at the sky. I've been on the night shift this past week."

"You're out now," I noted. "Is this your day off or something?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "Hardly. Monday's one of my busiest. I stop by a lot of the businesses that I’m supposed to pick up from on Mondays. It does tend to end early, so I used the early start, and knowing I was going to be down here, I took the chance to get out and do some shopping."

I nodded in understanding. We made our way to the cafe, where I ordered an espresso along with a small slice of chocolate cake. "So I gather that you are just getting back into the family business," I said, taking a bite. It wasn't too bad. "How’s that working out?”

He sipped at his cappuccino and sighed. "It's been harder than I thought it would be. Not so much the job itself. So far, I'm not doing anything a reasonably trained beagle couldn't do. It's the mental stress."

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," I noted, causing him to nod. "You're not the only one who’s in such a position."

"What's it like for you?" he asked, open and honest. His face softened, and I could see the cute guy under there, not the cocky jerk vibe I’d gotten from him the night before. "I mean, you said your father wants you out of the dirty side of things."

“That’s true, but my family has a lot of things that aren’t dirty, but aren’t exactly on the up and up either. Like you, I have a lot of expectations to live up to and a lot of pressure. Being the oldest daughter, and the one that's supposed to be the leader of all of them—it's a lot to deal with when I haven't even had my twenty-second birthday yet."

Tomasso looked surprised. "You're twenty-one? I thought you were older than me. Not that you look it, just you're mature. You act . . . ah hell, I'm screwing this up—you know what I mean. I'm twenty-two. Birthday's next month."

"Me too," I said, chuckling as he tripped over his words. "What day?"

"August seventh," Tomasso said. "And you?"

I laughed hard. "Me too. It seems we are exactly one year apart in age." I sat back, sipping my coffee and enjoying my cake. He also relaxed, enjoying his drink, a sort of companionable silence growing between us. It lasted until I finished my cake and most of my coffee.