Chapter 4
He had been thinking about Belardi’s – they’d gone there before, he knew Cora liked it. It was one of the few places in town you could get a decent Italian style pizza; thin ciabatta crust, tomato sauce and spices, a sprinkling of cheese. But Belardi’s was loud, the tables were crammed together in the tiny restaurant, and most nights they had live music.
A good place for a first date, if you were serious about it, if you wanted to show her home territory. But not for this.
Bellissima was another option. The food was excellent, and he kind of liked the idea of taking Cora out to eat something good, because for a woman who probably had pemmican and lichen for dinner most days, the teacher really enjoyed a good meal. But then again, Bellissima was expensive, and while he could afford it; it wasn’t the image he was trying to project. Once bitten and all that; Cora wouldn’t be looking for a man who liked to flaunt his money – Silver had said so and she was an excellent judge of these things.
Italian Village had decent food and good service. The only thing Paolo didn’t like about it was the fact that the place tried too hard for the authentic look and ended up looking like something out of Lady and the Tramp.
In the end, though, he opted for Village. The place was busy, but had booths where you could talk in private. He found the number for the place in the yellow pages himself and called them up from his desk phone, only to find out that he couldn’t reserve in advance. Well, they would just have to go there and hope that the timing was right.
He called her number, held his breath through Cora’s “The Dalton School in the middle of the day, Cora Lafitte speaking, how may I be of assistance?”
And, not bothering to introduce himself, said, “Cora, I’m taking you out to eat tonight, pick you up at seven, dress smart.”
“Understood, Paolo, I’ll see you at seven. Dressed smartly.” He could hear the joke beneath Cora’s deadpan tone of voice and found himself smiling stupidly into the phone.
“Okay Cora.”
He hung up just in time before Marisol came in to ask about the status on the Casino affidavit and whether they would pursuing further litigation.
*****
Paolo couldn’t be bothered to go home first, so he ended up staying at the office, catching up on paperwork and skype texting with Elta who was in Milan for a fashion show. He handed litigation papers over to Silver to peruse, wondering in passing if she ever had time off.
He went to the men’s room to check how he looked. Handsome, well dressed, and just a little bit bad.
Which wasn’t bad at all.
He went back out, got his coat and set off.
*****
In his car on the way there he had time to feel nervous. He didn’t really have a good example of ‘good stable man’ to fall back on. His father was on his third wife; a buxom Brazilian who was younger than Paolo, and his mother hadn’t remarried after the divorce. He was good at knowing how to be a player, but being a man that a woman like Cora would fall in love with…that came harder.
And Cora wasn’t just any other woman. If he played this just right, he could break her entire family; especially her father. If he didn’t play this right, it could really blow up in his face. But he had made up his mind to grab the bull by its horns.
When he pulled up outside the school, Cora was already on the sidewalk, waiting. She had dressed up, Paolo noticed, as much as a teacher ever did, wearing a white cashmere sweater and newly pressed designer jeans. She had on velvet six inch Manolo Blahnik boots that followed the curves of her legs lovingly, emphasizing their length and shapeliness and even in the half light Paolo could tell that she was nervous. That was a good sign Paolo thought, it meant she was invested.
Paolo alighted from the vehicle and crossed over to open the door on the passenger side of his red corvette. Cora was there in three steps, got in and fastened her seatbelt.
“So, where are we going, Paolo?”
“Italian Village.”
“Ah. Excellent mostaccioli.”
And those were the only words exchanged during the drive there.
*****
They were in luck and got a booth at the far end of the restaurant, away from the windows. Paolo ordered without looking through the menu. Cora read the entire thing from front to back before ordering the mostaccioli with herb sausage in broken Italian. Chandler the waiter giggled flirtatiously and brought her a glass of red wine on the house. Paolo was pretty sure Chandler himself didn’t speak Italian. The glass of wine stood untouched beside Cora’s plate.
Half way through the meal Chandler came over to ask if everything was alright. His eyes were fixed on Cora. Paolo smirked internally, wondering if Cora would expect him to do something about the waiter’s blatant flirting. He probably should. He should show some possessiveness.
A few minutes later he brought them a complimentary side dish of insalata caprese, and on the edge of the plate – slightly stained with oil – a little note with Chandler and a phone number written in big round letters.
“I think that’s for you, Cora.”
Cora eyed the note with brows furrowed, picked it up and looked at it for a long time before folding it neatly and setting it on fire with the candle on the table.
“Kids these days. No manners. Can’t he tell we’re on a date?”
She trailed off, ran a thumb across her eyebrow. It was probably the best opening Paolo was going to get.
“Yeah, yeah…Hey, Cora, I’m hurt.”
Cora straightened up from shaking the ashes off her hands, already looking stricken with guilt.
“Why, Paolo?”
Paolo put down his fork, picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth carefully. He really wasn’t trying to torture Cora, but this was difficult.
“I had to find out who you were from my assistant?”
Cora pursed her mouth, raised her brow, let out a deep breath,
“Paolo, I haven’t the faintest idea what you…”
No use in trying for subtlety on this one, Paolo realized.
“Look, I know who your dad is Cora; it’s been awkward ever since I found out because I didn’t know if it was a secret or…”
“Ah.”
“…I mean my company has had some dealings with Lafitte Enterprises and I just don’t want things to get awkward between us because of it.”
“Oh.”
He made her change a syllable. He wondered perversely if that was all he was going to get out of this conversation.
Paolo took a quick look around to see if anyone was listening, but the place was unusually empty. Chandler was over in the other end of the restaurant fingering his pendant at some well dressed woman dining alone and looking interested, which made Paolo kind of happy. Good for Chandler.