‘I’d rather just speak to you.’
Her heart gave a thump.
‘Okay.’
A cold feeling was settling in the pit of her stomach and her eyes focused longingly on the door.
‘I thought we weren’t going to fight any more.’
Hearing the hesitation in her voice, he frowned. ‘Talking doesn’t have to mean fighting.’
Except that up to now it had.
He felt a stab of frustration. But why was he trying to coax her anyway? He should just tell her she was having lunch with him. Only suddenly—incredibly—he found himself wanting it to be her choice. For some inexplicable reason that seemed more important than getting his own way.
He held her gaze. ‘Have lunch with me. Please. I promise we won’t fight. I just want to talk.’
Daisy stared at him. He looked serious and sincere. And very handsome. Feeling the knot of tension inside her loosen a fraction, she nodded slowly.
‘I’d like that very much.’
Twenty minutes later the limousine pulled up outside a small restaurant with a flaking green-painted facade somewhere in East Harlem.
Glancing up at the name above the door, Daisy felt her body stiffen with shock. She’d heard of Bova’s, but she’d never imagined eating there. Surely this couldn’t be it? It was supposed to be the most exclusive restaurant in New York, but this place looked as though it might close down before they finished their meal.
She bit her lip. ‘Is this that restaurant where even celebrities can’t get a table?’
He hesitated, as though he was making some kind of decision. Then finally he nodded slowly. ‘It is. But I happen to know the owner.’ He held out his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s eat.’
Inside, the restaurant was even smaller than it had looked from the street. There were only seven tables, and all of them bar one were full.
‘I hope you like Italian,’ Rollo said as they sat down. ‘Other than pizza, I mean.’
His mouth curved and, looking up, she saw his eyes were light and teasing, and a ripple of happiness went through her like an electric current.
She smiled. ‘I love it,’ she said truthfully. ‘Especially the desserts.’
He seemed pleased.
‘Then you must have the cannoli. It’s sublime.’ He frowned. ‘I should have said—they don’t have a menu here. If you’re a regular, they know what you like and they cook it for you.’
Lifting his head, he paused as a waiter approached the table, and she felt a prickle of awe and envy as he switched into rapid and clearly fluent Italian.
Turning back to face her, he frowned. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of ordering for you. I wouldn’t know where to start with most people, but you’re different. I know you as well as I know myself.’
His eyes on hers were very green.
Daisy blinked. ‘Really?’
‘Well, I should. That’s the reason we’ve spent so much time getting our stories straight.’
He gave her a quick, dazzling smile and she nodded mechanically. Had she really imagined that he thought she was special in some way? Heart banging in her throat, she picked up her glass, hoping to hide her confusion.
‘I’m sure it’ll be delicious.’
Her heart was still pounding in her chest and, desperate to disguise the effect of his words, she gave him what she hoped was a cool smile.
‘I’m actually really excited. I don’t eat out much. I never have. I think it’s probably because of working so much at the diner with Mum and Dad.’