He finished his plate, collecting mine and carrying them back to the kitchen. This casino would be one of the rare crossovers between the two sides of the Moretti fortune. Luca hated the idea, but Marco was pushing hard for it. It was clear he was ready to get out of the restaurant business.
“And here’s your egg raviolo.”
I cut in, and the yolk oozed out. There were very few things more beautiful than a perfect egg raviolo.
“You have a gift, Luca.”
He dipped his chin in thanks and tucked into his plate. His expression was thoughtful, and then he smiled. “I think this might be the best egg raviolo I’ve ever made.”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I let my gusto do the talking. When I finished, Luca was still eating, so I caught him up on everything else going on. “I’ll be home late the next few Wednesdays because we’re running rehearsals for Naughty Gras.”
He tilted his head as he chewed.
“It’s at the end of February. I perform once with the girls, and then I’m doing a solo show the next night.”
“So, it’s a whole weekend thing?”
“Mhm.”
He nodded and took the last bite of his raviolo. “I’ll make sure I’m free.”
“You sure?”
I used the freshly baked bread to wipe my plate clean. There was no way I was leaving even a speck of the amazing cheese combo behind.
“Of course. I love watching you perform.” He wiggled his eyebrows and nudged my knee under the table.
“Well, alright. Maybe we can buy some art for the guest room.” The idea of guests sleeping under a phallic or yonic painting delighted me.
Juvenile? Absolutely.
Would that stop me? No.
“Whatever you want.” Luca’s phone buzzed on a nearby table, and he frowned as he stood. “Let me go get our entrées.” He smoothly scooped it up on the way to the kitchen.
Frowning at his back, I fished my phone out of my purse and checked emails. Axel had already sent me the pics I needed to finish all our specs for Monday. I’d have to figure out a way to sneak in some work without pissing off Luca.
“Phones away, Ms. Mitchell. Mealtime is quality time.” A Luca proverb.
I batted my eyelashes at him as I put it back in my bag. “I’m sorry, Mr. Moretti.”
“You’re forgiven, but don’t let it happen again,” he said in a stern voice. Setting my plate down, he switched out my flatware. “Now, let me know what you think of the butter on the steak.”
“You got it.” My knife glided through the meat, and the first bite made me moan like I was enjoying one of Luca’s other god-like talents.
“It’s good?” When I nodded, he smiled and finally took a bite of his entrée.
After taking a sip of the white wine he’d poured to go with his fish, Luca cleared his throat. “I want us to go on a trip soon.”
Chewing, I mentally went through all of our upcoming deadlines and events. It’d be tight, but I could afford to take a little time off since staffing up at SA Designs.
“I was thinking Paris?”
I swallowed and smiled. “What’s the occasion?”
“I promised to show you the world, and I plan on keeping that promise.”
“Okay, but I get to plan the next trip. You won’t know where we’re going until we get to the airport.”