Lexi gave Vincent a little kick under the table, knowing he was squeamish when it came to spicy foods ever since the Thai incident. “Sounds delicious.” Vincent kept a perfect smile plastered on his face. The only indication Lexi had that the word spicy even registered with him was the tiny kick back.
With great pride, Angelo listed all the one-of-a-kind dishes he was going to prepare for them this afternoon, and then returned to the kitchen.
While they waited for the food, Paolo told numerous stories from his childhood about the trouble he and Dante used to get into, driving their poor mother crazy. Often they were chased around the villa with pots and pans, not only by their mother but the women of the neighborhood as well.
Apparently, they were quite the cads, breaking hearts and becoming known as “those Marradesi boys.” Mothers warned their daughters to stay away from them, and fathers often threatened to kill. Francesca grew up in a town nearby, and the reputation of the brothers had traveled the miles to where she lived. So one day, when she heard that the infamous Paolo Marradesi was coming to town, a saucy seventeen-year-old Francesca put on her best dress and made sure he noticed her the moment he walked into the local market.
Food began filling the table—pasta, calamari salad, and antipasto served in courses. Each portion was small enough to allow them to taste everything offered. When Vincent’s calamari salad arrived, he pushed it around the plate to make it look like he had eaten it. Lexi noticed and took
mercy on him, eating hers quickly then playfully picking pieces off of his plate to lessen the eating load.
“Can I have a bite?” she grinned at Vincent.
“Didn’t you just eat a whole plate of squid?” He played along with her ruse.
“I think a few of mine fell off onto your plate. Oh, look, that one was mine … and that one too. Wow. A lot of them escaped.” Lexi began jabbing her fork into the stretchy rings.
Vincent rolled his eyes dramatically at Paolo, who watched the whole exchange with great amusement.
“A woman who likes to eat, now that’s my kind of girl,” Paolo teased as Lexi stole another piece from Vincent and he watched Francesca do the same thing with his last bite of squid. The women shrugged and savored the flavor of the calamari, unashamed.
The conversation flowed easily among the group. Lexi and Vincent both understood that eating and socializing came first, business second. Rather than try and muscle the conversation in that direction prematurely, they happily shared stories about their childhoods and families with their guests.
Dante remained quiet, but the occasional smile escaped his lips.
Amidst the discussions, the Marradesis occasionally commented to each other in their native language. During one particularly lengthy exchange, Lexi bumped her knee into Vincent’s under the table. When he turned to see what was up, she smiled and put her hand on his forearm, tapping her finger repeatedly. He took the hint and wrapped his arm around the back of her chair then made a point of leaning closer. He took the opportunity to whisper in her ear.
“What’s up?”
Keeping a serene smile on her face she softly said, “Do you understand any Italian?” When he subtly shook his head no, she sighed. “Lucky for you, I do.” When Vincent raised an eyebrow in disbelief, Lexi rolled her eyes. “I studied a lot of things to pass the time while Harry was sick. Italian happened to be one of them.” She turned toward Vincent a little more and pointed to the fresco on the other side of the room as if that was the topic of their private chat. “From what I can tell, they like us, even Dante. Paolo is concerned about our age, so act mature, please.”
“I can do mature. What else?”
“They feel comfortable around us, especially Francesca, so keep charming her.”
Absentmindedly, Vincent’s fingers trailed down Lexi’s bare arm. “If there’s anything else I need to know …”
Lexi smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll just kick you again. It can be our secret code.”
“I think I’m starting to get a bruise,” Vincent chided. “Can’t we do something like tap our fingers on the table?”
“Baby.”
As they chuckled, he and Lexi looked across the table and found Francesca watching them carefully. She leaned into Paolo and a single word passed between them. Amanti.
“Lovers,” Lexi whispered, but Vincent heard it clear as day. She gently tried to shift her body language and move away from Vincent, but as he turned and spoke to Dante, he shifted his chair closer to hers, not allowing her an escape. He saw Francesca’s secretive smile turn into a full blown grin when Lexi’s eyes met hers. She casually tipped her wine glass at Lexi in approval.
After they had gorged themselves on the main course, a tray of sweets arrived at the table. “I hope you saved room for dessert, Lexi,” Paolo teased with a wink.
“I always have room for dessert, especially something as delicious as this.” Lexi took another big bite of the extravagant Italian cake in front of her.
“This is the best tiramisu I have ever eaten. What did you soak the lady fingers in? It isn’t rum.”
Angelo beamed proudly at her astute palette. Paolo and Dante laughed as their nephew rambled on about his preparation method from start to finish for his premier dessert. Lexi politely nodded her head and listened to every detail.
When Angelo finally stepped away from the table, Francesca laughed out loud. “I’m sorry, dear. We should have warned you that Angelo is very passionate about his cooking. Once you get him started, well, he can be impossible to stop.”
“He’s lovely,” Lexi replied. “I just hope I can remember everything he said. I want to make this for my friend.”
As the dessert dishes were being cleared, Vincent sensed the shift in atmosphere among the group. Paolo and Dante became more serious, preparing for the business side of the meal. Even Francesca toned things down, whispering more frequently in Italian with Paolo. When he felt Lexi’s leg battering against his, he knew something was up. She passed him a piece of paper from her bag and began pointing to random words, giving him an excuse to huddle closer so Lexi could whisper information.
“It’s Francesca.”
“What is?”
“She’s the person you better present to. She’s going to make the final decision. Does she own the company or something?”
“She is the majority stockholder, but Paolo is listed as the owner in any papers you read.” Vincent traced his pen on the page aimlessly to make it look like he was busy.