No Strings Attached

Chapter Forty-Two

"Yeah, I—"

"Scarlett?"

I glance at the figure approaching, paling when I realize who it is, my smile fading quickly. Holy Mother of—

Giovanni Martinelli is nearly at our table, moving around the hoards of people, dressed in an indigo-colored Italian-cut suit. It's, of course, tailored to fit his impressively large form. His feet are covered with leather monk-strap shoes, shined to perfection, the same color as his soft, thick waves of curls. I notice a table at the other corner of the room, everyone about to sit with their eyes on us. By their stares and Giovanni's unhinged expression, I am sure this wasn't something he expected.

Why the hell is he even in New York?

He looks between Ed and me, expertly impassive, even when his eyes shift down to our hands. I pull mine back, sucking in a deep breath. Ed's lips purse slightly as he faces Giovanni.

"Hello," I force out before Giovanni's even stopped. He clears his throat... His long, slender, smooth throat...

"Hi. What are the chances?"

I shake my head with wonder. I really don't know.

I gesture to Ed. "Um, you remember—"

Giovanni's gaze reluctantly leaves my own, landing on my familiar dinner partner. I'm stunned when he extends his hand to him. "Ed. Yes, I do."

Ed takes his hand, shaking firmly. "How are you, Giovanni?"

"Fine. Busy."

"Why are you in New York?" I ask, glancing back to his party.

"Well, I'm spending some time at the office here. Norman also called, said he wanted to have a meeting about improving sales, all that."

"I didn't hear about this. When did he call you?"

"A few days ago. I told him that since I was going to be in the area, I'd stop by." His stare is intently serious. "Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, of course. I guess I'll see you at the meeting then."

"Alright."

"Well, it was good of you to stop by, say hello," Ed says dismissively. I'm momentarily shocked by his take over and clearly, Giovanni is too. I catch his eyes slant, his mouth twisting reactively in anger but within seconds, the glare is gone, his features masked with passiveness as he turns his attention back to me.

"Enjoy your dinner," he utters softly, his teeth barely parting. I don't have to study him to know he's pissed. Better yet, he's jealous. He sears Ed with a look of disdain as he turns, leaving us. I watch him go, entranced by his graceful movements.

"You really know how to piss him off," I hum, forcing myself to look away. Ed shakes his head, holding his hand up for the check. He knows me well. I don't dare look away from our table as Ed signs the bill.

"Come on."

He stands and I grab my bag, nervously walking to him as he guides me through the tables. I gear myself for contact, knowing we're being watched.

Oh god.

I look to his table, focusing on everyone but him because I'm a coward.

"Have a good night," I murmur kindly, not allowing myself to stop.

"Christ, that man hates me," Ed whispers when we've reached the exit. He grabs onto the double doors, holding one open for me. I watch him head to the valet to hand over our separate tickets.