Just butter.”
“Certainly.” He did a little bow and departed.
De Luca looked back at me.
Okay, let’s go. “Have you ever slept with an intern?”
“Yes.” The answer was said matter-of-factly, without shame or pride. As if he had answered another question entirely.
“Details?”
“I’ll save that for a second date.”
“We aren’t having a second...date.”
“We’ll see. My turn. Why did you choose CDB for your internship?”
“It’s the best. I have no desire to settle for second best.”
“Have you been with the best in the past?”
“I’ve never had a job before.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I shot him a look. He put up his hands in feigned innocence and grinned.
“Why do you think I’ve been told to avoid you?” I asked.
He shrugged and took a sip of the wine. “All good reasons, I’m sure.”
“That’s evasive.”
“I’m an attorney. It’s my job.”
“And you think you’re good at your job.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I know I’m good at my job. There’s a reason I have a ten-month wait.”
“I’ve heard other reasons that divorcing females might want to wait for your services.”
“Meaning?”
“Sex.”
“So you think I’m good at that job?” His eyes brimmed with mischievousness, and I suddenly had a very good idea of what he would have been like as a ten-year-old boy.
“You’re being evasive again.”
“Just trying to figure out what you think you know.”
“Do you sleep with your clients?”
“Just the female ones.”
His blatant and unashamed response floored me, and I stumbled over the next question. He had leaned forward, across the table, and was meeting my eyes dead-on. I felt locked into a stare-off.
“All of them?”
“I’m not a gigolo. I have sex for pleasure. If I am not sexually attracted to the woman, there is no purpose in having sex.”
“Don’t you think that’s bad for business?”
“On the contrary, it is extremely good for business.” He leaned back and put one hand to his temple, playing with his pinkie with his mouth. His gaze had started to smolder. “I am very good at pleasing women, Julia.”
I blushed and looked away, praying for our food to arrive. It did not, but there was a different interruption: a ringing cell phone.
Brad reached for his cell and touched the screen without breaking his gaze at me.
“De Luca...
“At lunch...
“Yes, you can patch her through.”
He looked at me apologetically, and looked around for our waiter. Mimmo materialized at his side with a pen and pad in hand. This seemed to be an old pattern they had. De Luca grabbed the pen, looked at his watch and scribbled “12:33 p.m.” on the notepad. He ripped off the top page and returned the notepad, but not the pen, to Mimmo.
Hysterical babble could be heard from the phone pressed to De Luca’s ear. To his credit, he listened intently to the hysterics without an eye roll or sign of impatience. At the first pause, he spoke. “Claudia, listen to me. You need to trust that we know what we are doing and we will handle it. I will have him covered by the private investigator. He won’t sneak anything by us on my watch, I promise you.”
More hysterical shouting, then something that sounded like pleading.
“Those assets are safe. We already have a court motion in place that has frozen those. Please relax, Claudia. Why don’t you let me send Alfonzo over? He can massage those worries right out of you.”
I tuned his conversation out when Mimmo brought our food. My steak was enormous and smelled incredible. I had my knife and fork ready and dived in the moment the plate hit the table. De Luca shot me a bemused look, which I ignored, chewing furiously. The steak had just enough fat to add flavor, and was tender and perfectly cooked. I liked my steaks bloody, and this fit the bill. I paused in my intake to sip some wine. The glass was full. I stopped and looked at it. Did I finish the first glass? Or did he refill this early? I shook my head and pushed it to the side, reaching for the water glass instead. I needed to keep my head clear, given the temptation sitting across from me. Plus, I had broken enough cardinal rules for the day. I didn’t want to add Drunk at Work to the tally.
I was eighty percent through my steak and had demolished the baked potato when De Luca finally ended the call. He glanced at his watch again and wrote “12:42 p.m.” on the piece of scrap paper. I glanced at it and rolled my eyes.
“You’re going to bill her for nine minutes?”
“It was nine minutes I could have spent talking to you. And yes, at eight hundred and fifty dollars an hour, I damn sure am going to bill for nine minutes.”
“Not ten?”
His mouth twitched. “Not ten. For the same reason.”
Well, it looks like the man has some shred of moral fiber. Shocker.
“I’ve got to get back to the office.” He mumbled the words through a hefty bite of steak.
“Do we have time to run an errand?”
“Depends on what it is. Rick in IT is not expecting you to return with a...cable port thingy? I think that’s how you referred to it.”
“I need to go by CVS.”
“For what?”
“If you must know, a pregnancy test.” I kept a straight face and he blinked, taken aback. He squinted at me, trying to figure out if I was serious. I kept my iron facade. For about four seconds. Then I burst out giggling. “God—you are easy! I need headache medicine. But you, of all people, with your stable of women, should know to never ask a woman what she needs at the drugstore.”
He grinned. Reaching for his phone, he unlocked it and then pressed a number into the phone. “Jeff. We will be ready for pickup in about five minutes. Check the car for some Advil or Tylenol. If there isn’t any, go grab some. We’ll see you in the valet area in a bit.” He hung up the phone and returned to his steak.
“I could have picked up my own medicine.”
“We’re already short on time. They’ll wonder what’s been keeping you.”
“Scared of Sheila?”
He grinned again, looking up from his steak. “Terrified. That woman is worse than my mother.”
His steak was already half-gone, and the remaining bit didn’t have a chance. The man didn’t believe in wasting time. Mimmo appeared at my side.
“Ms. Campbell. I’ve taken the liberty of wrapping a few of our house truffles for your enjoyment later.”
How does this man know my name? I nodded my thanks and placed the small, exquisitely wrapped package into my purse.
He left, taking a handful of our plates with him. De Luca stood, shoveling a few more pieces of meat into his mouth, and then reached for my hand.
“Let’s go.”
I