“I didn’t expect to see you in the office so early after you came in late last night.” Santiago took one of the empty chairs across from Esteban’s desk and crossed his ankle over his knee.

“Believe me, I was tempted to stay in bed, but since Sonia and I are leaving at the end of the week, I thought it better to come in and get an early start.”

Also from Argentina, Esteban was a couple of inches taller than Santiago, with a solid build and square jaw. He was known for having a brilliant mind and a Midas touch which turned any restaurant venture into a profitable enterprise, not to mention his other business ventures in real estate and investments in art. Santiago felt fortunate to work with and learn from a man like him.

In June, Esteban married his live-in girlfriend, Sonia, a certified sommelier who’d taken over the purchase of all alcoholic beverages for his many restaurants. On Saturday, they would leave on their honeymoon, where for two weeks they’d be cruising the Caribbean on a rented yacht, only the two of them and a small crew aboard.

Esteban rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. “I want to discuss finding a chef for the new restaurant in New York. But, before we get started, good job handling the situation with the lobsters last week.”

Santiago chuckled. “It was a challenge, but we managed. Everyone pulled together and worked hard.”

“So I’ve heard. Abena gave me an update. What else is going on?”

Santiago didn’t bore him with minor problems like discovering the ice machine was broken yesterday. Updates about routine happenings didn’t interest Esteban. Instead, he updated him on revenue, noticeable trends, a decrease in sales at the European-style bakery in town, and pointed out the California and New York restaurants were doing particularly robust business ever since Sonia took over ordering the wine and spirits. Her selections had resulted in a five-percent increase in dinner-service revenue, and he expected to see similar results trickle down to the rest of the portfolio.

“Good, good.” Esteban nodded with satisfaction at the end of his accounting. “Now, back to New York. As I mentioned, I need to hire a chef for Cibo.”

Cibo was Esteban’s next venture, a unique restaurant that would serve a rotating menu of Italian dishes and Italian wines. High-end and located in the heart of Manhattan, it would only be open for dinner service and offer a prix fixe menu of five courses. Described as a celebration of food, Esteban envisioned an establishment serving dishes which would, essentially, be deemed works of art in appearance and taste.

“No one yet?” Santiago asked.

Esteban shook his head. “Not even close.”

“Who have you looked at?”

“A few options, but there’s only one person I’m truly interested in, and he’s retired.”

Santiago thought for a moment before an idea came to him. “No way. Come on, Esteban. You can’t be serious. Tell me it’s not Massimo Carlucci.”

“He’s the only one I see working there.”

Carlucci had a flamboyant style and was known for his original creations, but the reclusive chef retired a few years ago and swore never to return to the restaurant business after investing his life savings in Tazza, an endeavor that fell apart and left him bankrupt.

“He’s also a loose cannon and doesn’t have a head for business,” Santiago pointed out.

“I don’t need him to have a head for business. I need him to cook. He made a mistake when he became an owner-chef, and from talking to his partners, they regret giving him so much say in the operations. I tell you, when I ate at his old restaurant—the one before Tazza—it was some of the best food I’d ever eaten.” Esteban often visited other restaurants and encouraged Santiago to do the same. Not only to dine on good food, but to check out the competition. “Incredible flavors. Fresh ingredients. Innovative presentations. Remember, before the Tazza fiasco, he ran the kitchen of a Michelin three-star restaurant.”

“I haven’t forgotten. Quite an accomplishment, but now his reputation is tarnished. Do you really want him in the kitchen of Cibo?”

“Can you think of anyone better?”

Carlucci probably was the best fit. Santiago had never had the opportunity to eat at the chef’s old restaurant, but from all accounts, the man was a veritable magician in the kitchen. Yet, he had reservations.

“You’re sure you can trust him?”

“Nothing is certain in this business.”

Nodding in agreement, Santiago said, “All right. How do you plan to get him?”

Esteban sat back and rubbed a thumb across his chin. He studied the far side of the room, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “I haven’t figured out how yet. But I will. From my contacts, I’ve learned money isn’t enough to entice him.”

“I still think this is a mistake. We have other options.”

“If you ever ate at his old restaurant, before Tazza, you wouldn’t consider anyone else.”

Santiago mulled the situation. This could be an opportunity for him to impress Esteban. “Let me talk to him, see if I can get him interested.”

Esteban shook his head. “You have your hands full already.”

“I have time to reach out to Carlucci, too,” Santiago said. “What if he wants an ownership stake in Cibo?’

“I’d offer it to him. No more than ten percent.”

Santiago stroked his jaw. “I can work with ten percent.”

Esteban’s eyes narrowed. “It would take a load off my mind.”

“Then let me do it.” Santiago had ninety days to prove himself, and he welcomed adding another challenge to the list. Esteban did not take failure lightly. Now he’d promised to deliver Carlucci, Santiago needed to deliver or risk jeopardizing his position.

“If it helps, he likes women. A lot.”

“Don’t we all?” Santiago chuckled. “But I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll woo him with my own charm.”

“All right.” Esteban straightened in the chair and picked up the phone. “Let me get Abena in here. I need to talk to the two of you about a few other things.”

At the mention of her name, Santiago’s muscles tightened. Esteban hit the numbers on the phone and called her into the office.

“How was Europe?” Santiago asked, to take his mind off her.

The lobster debacle took place a week ago, and he’d decided to back off. No matter how upsetting, she was clearly devoted to her fiancé. Watching her leave after they’d shared what he considered a close moment, opened his eyes. He wasn’t a man inclined to wasting his time and energy. He preferred to keep women at arm’s length, and clearly their time in Argentina was meaningless, without depth. He’d seen something that didn’t exist, and the sooner he accepted Abena’s decision to marry Dr. Appiah, the better.

He’d already moved on, in fact, with a buxom brunette who’d spent the night with him a few nights ago. He’d taken her number—one among four he collected on the night he went out with his sister—but she had been the most interesting. Intelligent, sexy, and with a wide mouth that provided immense pleasure when she was on her knees. He couldn’t complain at all. She was exactly the distraction he needed.

The door opened and Abena walked in, bringing the same lemon scent she always wore. He didn’t bother to look in her direction, but from the corner of his eyes saw when she sat down in the chair beside him and greeted both men.

Today’s fitted burgundy pantsuit was modest, yet somehow provocative. His mind went off on a tangent where he removed the jacket first, then the black silk blouse beneath it, and finally the pants. There was nothing even remotely indecent about her wardrobe choices, yet every time he saw her, he imagined her naked.

“Next week is the Miami Feed the Hungry and Homeless ball, a huge fundraiser which, unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend,” Esteban said.

Santiago knew, and was certain Abena knew also, that Esteban avoided publicity like the plague. He hated doing interviews and didn’t like anyone shining a spotlight on his charitable works. He happened to be one of the biggest, if not the biggest, contributor to the fundraising ball taking place next week. The charity provided food to homeless centers, domestic abuse shelters, and food pantries around the state of Florida. Esteban’s donations of dollars and surplus food started years ago, because of his past in an orphanage and intimate knowledge of going hungry as a child.

Still, Santiago was fairly certain his boss purposely scheduled his honeymoon during the annual event so he would not have to attend. Each year, some reason or excuse kept him from attending the event. However, he always wrote a big check and sent a representative in his place.

“Since I won’t be able to attend the ball, I’d like the two of you to go in my stead. Abena’s been before, but this would be a good event for you to attend. Abena, as usual, you’ll deliver the check to the organizers. Santiago, I expect you to network and meet some of the industry people there. It will be good for you to show your face and get to know a lot of these people in the local community.”

Santiago nodded his head. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Abena shifted in her chair. “Can I bring an escort with me, like I did last time?”

Santiago stiffened.

“Absolutely.” Esteban turned his attention to Santiago. “Same for you. This is a work engagement, but make time to enjoy yourself. The food is good, the music is good, and the ball is a chance for you both to have a nice night out.”

“I assume this is a black-tie affair?” Santiago asked.

“More suit and tie, though you could wear a tux if you prefer. Abena, do you have a copy of the invitation you can give to Santiago?”

“I do. I’ll make sure he sees it.” Not once did she look at him.

Santiago gritted his teeth.

“That’s all for now, Santiago. I need to talk to Abena for a bit about some personal matters. Do you have any questions?”

“None I can think of.”

“Before you go, I want to say that I appreciate how you handled the operations while I was out of the country. Abena said you did a good job, and as I trust her opinion, I have to assume everything went well. Makes me confident I made the right decision in promoting you to head this portfolio.”

Santiago slid a glance in Abena’s direction. “I appreciate her kind words. She did an excellent job, as well. She’s quite a hard worker.”

She finally glanced at him, but there was no expression on her face, although for a second he thought he saw a flicker of softness in her dark eyes. But the moment passed quickly, and she returned her attention to Esteban.

“Also, I’m glad to see you’re getting along so well.” A curious expression entered Esteban’s eyes as his gaze shifted between the two of them.

“Was there ever any question?” Santiago asked.

“There was never a problem,” Abena added.

“Like I said, I’m glad the two of you are getting along,” Esteban said slowly. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No,” they said in unison.

Silence for long seconds as he studied them.

“Excellent. All right, Santiago, I’ll excuse you so Abena and I can continue our meeting.”

“No problem.” Santiago left the two of them alone.