Kitabı oku: «Passionate Affairs: Breakfast at Giovanni's», sayfa 2
She could appreciate that. But the coffee thing…‘I don’t even have an espresso machine at home.’
He groaned. ‘Don’t tell me you drink instant coffee?’
‘No, I use a cafetiere. Same at work—well, used to,’ she corrected herself. She really had to get her head round the fact that she didn’t work at the voiceover studio any more. ‘I like my coffee fresh, not stuck in a filter pot stewing for half a day.’
‘Then you already have a feel for what we do. Fran, the best way to understand a business is to work in it for a while—and I’m short-staffed right now. I’m about to lose one of my baristas because she wants to go travelling.’
She flinched. ‘Like my boss.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rub salt in your wounds. But—to quote Nonna yet again—when one door closes, another opens. This is an opportunity for both of us. I need someone with your skills, and you’re on garden leave for five months. It strikes me you’re the sort who enjoys being busy and rises to a challenge, so if you work with me this will solve both our problems. I get an office manager who can take some of the weight off me and let me plan where to go next with the business and maybe let me bounce ideas off her, and you get a job that you can stretch to suit you.’
It sounded as if he had it all worked out.
‘And the coffee thing isn’t a problem. I can train you as a barista, teach you what you need to know. If you work a few shifts in one of the coffee shops, you’ll understand the business more and you’ll be able to bring that to the office manager job too.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘You’ll need a food hygiene certificate, but the course only takes a few hours and the exam’s pretty straightforward.’
Exams? Oh, no. This was where it all went pear-shaped. ‘I’m not good at exams,’ she told him. ‘I tend panic. I failed my A levels.’
‘But in day-to-day practical things, you’re fine.’
It was a statement, not a question. She nodded.
‘Then think of the exam as just another day-to-day practical thing.’
‘That’s what my parents said about the driving test. It still took me four goes—and Suzy and the twins all passed theirs first time.’
‘Suzy and the twins?’ he asked.
She shifted in her seat. ‘I’m the eldest of four.’ Sort of.
‘The same as me.’ He smiled. ‘Now I know why you’re brilliantly organised. You’ve had years of practice, bossing your siblings about.’
‘They’re a trainee dentist, a PhD student and a forensic scientist. Bossing them about wouldn’t work,’ she said with a rueful smile. They were all academic and brilliant at exams, unlike her. They all excelled in sports, too, had always been picked for the school’s first team, whereas she’d been hopeless—in sixth form she’d opted to do voluntary work at the local old people’s home on Wednesday afternoons rather than sports.
She was the eldest. And most definitely the odd one out.
Probably because she didn’t share the same gene pool.
Marco took away their empty plates and returned with pizza and a bowl of salad. ‘Mama says panna cotta would take too long, but crème brûlée is on the specials board and she can do you some with raspberries.’
‘Fabulous.’ Gio smiled. ‘Tell her she’s the joint best mother in the world, along with mine.’
‘Tell her yourself. There are big hints in the kitchen that she hasn’t seen her favourite nephew for months.’
‘It hasn’t been anywhere near that long,’ Gio protested.
‘Eat your pizza. Then go see Mama, if you want pudding,’ Marco advised. ‘Fran, would you like pepper? Parmesan?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ She smiled back at him.
‘Bene. Enjoy,’ he said, and left them to it.
‘You have to try this,’ Gio insisted, and cut a small piece from his pizza. ‘Here.’ He offered her a forkful across the table; it felt oddly intimate, leaning across to take a bite, and when her gaze met his she felt a weird shifting in the region of her heart, as if it had just turned a somersault.
Oh, lord. Don’t say she was falling for Gio Mazetti, a man she barely knew and who was just about to become her boss?
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘So what do you think of avocado on pizza?’
‘It’s…different.’
He laughed. ‘That’s the diplomatic answer.’
She shifted the conversation back to business before it drifted on to personal ground. Dangerous ground. Because if she was going to work with Gio, any other sort of relationship was definitely out of the question. ‘You said you were thinking of expanding or franchising. How big is Giovanni’s?’
‘We have four outlets in London,’ he said. ‘So I’m at the stage where I need to decide what to do next. Well, I say “I”.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Dad started the business.’
‘But you’re in charge now.’
He nodded. ‘Though I need to consider Dad’s feelings. Franchising’s a possibility, but I need to do some proper research into what it all means and whether it’s the right way for us to go. And at the moment I simply don’t have the time.’
The pizzeria was another of his family’s businesses, and his aunt was clearly still hands on. Gio’s father couldn’t be that much older than Annetta, surely; so why wasn’t he hands-on with the coffee shop? ‘You seem—well, pretty young to be heading a chain of coffee shops,’ she commented.
‘I’m twenty-eight. But I’ve worked in the business for half my life. And I learned how to make decent espresso at my father’s knee.’
‘And because you’re the eldest, you were groomed to take over from your dad?’
For a brief moment, his face was filled with bleakness. And then, before she had the chance to ask him what was wrong, he smiled. ‘Something like that.’
She was pretty sure there was something he wasn’t telling her. ‘Your nonna said that trust has to start somewhere,’ she reminded him softly. ‘So why don’t you fill me in on the story?’
He toyed with his pizza for a while before answering. ‘I planned to go to college, ten years ago. I was going to study music. I helped out in the business while I was at school—we all did, whether it was washing up or baristaing or clearing the tables for Dad and washing them down when the shop closed—but this one night I was meant to be working a late shift when I had a chance to play in a concert. A concert where I knew a scout for a record company was going to be in the audience. Dad said I had to follow my dreams, and he’d do my shift for me, even though he’d been working all day and it meant he’d be doing a double shift. I was eighteen. Head full of stars. So I went. I played. The scout had a word with me and my guitar teacher. And I came home by the coffee shop to tell Dad my news.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘Which was when I found him lying on the floor. He’d had a heart attack while he was shutting up the shop. The ambulance got there in time to save him, but no way was I going to make Dad cope with the stress of the business after that.’
‘So you gave up music to take over from him?’ she guessed.
He grimaced. ‘I probably wasn’t good enough to make it commercially anyway. There isn’t that much scope for a classical guitarist.’ He spread his hands. ‘A bit of session work, a bit of teaching, the occasional gig in some arts club. It’s a bits-and-pieces sort of life, whereas running Giovanni’s means I can do pretty much what I like, when I like. It wasn’t a hard choice.’
The momentary flicker in those blue, blue eyes told her that he was lying. That even now he wondered, what if? But it hadn’t stopped him making the decision. He’d given up his dreams for his family.
Fran realised with a pang that Gio was the kind of man who believed in commitment. Who believed in his family.
A belief she so wanted to have. Except she didn’t share his certainty in belonging, the way that he did. Even though her parents had told her years before that she was special, that they’d chosen her to be part of their family, she wasn’t sure she belonged. Because they’d chosen her when they didn’t think they could have their own children, and she’d always thought that they regretted their decision when it turned out to be not the case. It was an unspoken fear, but one that still surfaced from time to time. Like now, when she’d stopped fitting in at work and she’d been the one to be made redundant rather than the other office manager.
Gio came from a large family. One that teased and drove him crazy, but clearly loved him to bits. If she accepted his offer of a job, would she fit in to his world any better than she fitted into her family?
‘What was the news?’ she asked. ‘The news you called by to tell him?’
Gio took a sip of wine. ‘Nothing important.’
She didn’t quite believe him. Hadn’t he said that the scout had had a word with him? But she had a feeling that if she pushed, Gio would clam up completely.
‘Besides, I’ve enjoyed managing the coffee shop. Dad believed in me enough to let me run it without interference. The one on Charlotte Street is the original café, but he was fine about me expanding it.’ He looked at her. ‘I said earlier about trusting people. I also need to be honest with you. Right now, it’s not so much the business that’s at a crossroads, it’s me.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know whether it’s because I’m heading towards thirty—a kind of early midlife crisis—but right now I feel in limbo. I don’t know what I want from life. And I need to find out while I’m still young enough to do something about it.’
That accounted for the suppressed restlessness she’d spotted earlier. ‘Music?’ she asked. Did he want to follow the dream he’d given up ten years before?
‘I’m too old. Too out of practice. I only play for myself nowadays, anyway.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I can promise you one thing, though—I’m not intending to sell the business or make you redundant. I just need…time. To sort a few things out in my head. And I need someone to help me. Someone to give me that time.’
He needed someone.
And he’d asked her.
‘How about we have a month’s trial, with a week’s notice on either side?’ she asked.
The smile he gave her was like that of a drowning man who’d just been thrown a lifeline. ‘Sounds good to me. When do you want to start?’
CHAPTER THREE
‘HOW about tomorrow?’ The words came out before he could stop them. Too eager. Stupid, Gio berated himself mentally. If he wasn’t careful, he’d scare her off.
‘Straight from one job to another, without a break?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Very stupid, he amended silently. Hell. Now she was going to say no. Because he’d rushed her. Of course she’d want a break between jobs. Time to recharge her batteries. Would he never learn not to jump in feet first?
And then she smiled. ‘Well, it beats sitting around feeling sorry for myself. Tomorrow it is.’
He could’ve kissed her. Except officially, they were working together now. And Gio had seen too many good business relationships messed up when sex had got in the way of business. He wasn’t going to make that mistake. Even though he was definitely attracted to Fran and every time he looked at her he felt that low, humming excitement in his blood.
A feeling he’d just have to keep in check.
He settled on taking her hand and shaking it, instead. ‘Thanks. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.’
Time to let her hand go, now.
Now.
Because this was teetering on the very fine line between being a handshake and holding her hand. And he was aware of a tingling in his palm where her skin touched his.
This wasn’t the time. And in the middle of his aunt’s restaurant was definitely not the place. As it was, Marco had assumed that Fran was his girlfriend, and despite Gio’s denial the family grapevine was probably already buzzing.
He knew he’d get a call from his mother tonight, asking him how come he’d taken his girlfriend to meet his Aunt Netti before meeting his mother. Not to mention texts from Bella, Jude and Marcie staking their claims as bridesmaids, demanding full details of their new sister-in-law-to-be, and offering dinner invitations so they could meet her and grill her for themselves: his family didn’t seem to believe in taking things slowly.
Just as well he’d switched his mobile phone to ‘discreet’ mode. Pity he couldn’t switch his family to ‘discreet’ in the same way.
‘Appreciate what?’ Marco asked, overhearing Gio’s last comment.
Gio resisted the temptation to wring his cousin’s neck, and let go of Fran’s hand. ‘Perfect timing, cugino mio. I’d like you to meet my new office manager.’
Marco stared at Fran, and then at Gio. ‘Office manager?’
‘Yup.’
‘You’re telling me you’ve just been conducting a job interview—over dinner?’ Disbelief filled every note of his cousin’s voice.
‘It’s the civilised way to do things.’ Gio gave a wry smile. ‘And as I have to eat anyway…’
‘You decided to multi-task it.’ Marco made exaggerated quote marks with his fingers around the word ‘multi-task’, and rolled his eyes. ‘You’re unbelievable. Fran, he did warn you he’s a workaholic and his favourite phrase is “multi-task it”, didn’t he? Don’t let him take advantage of you.’
‘She’s too efficient to do that,’ Gio retorted.
Fran coughed. ‘And I’m also quite capable of speaking for myself, thank you very much.’
‘Indeed. And I apologise, Fran. My family’s bad habit—’ well, one of them, Gio thought ‘—is that we talk too much.’ He spread his hands. ‘Speaking of which…I’d better sneak into the kitchen to see my aunt. If you’ll excuse me for a little while?’ No way was he taking Fran with him to meet Netti. He needed to stop the family rumours before they spread: and he didn’t want his new office manager frightened off by the idea of his family claiming her as his new girlfriend.
Which she wasn’t.
Because he didn’t have a girlfriend.
Didn’t want a girlfriend.
Didn’t need a girlfriend.
OK, so his life wasn’t absolutely perfect at the moment. He couldn’t shift this restlessness, this feeling that there was a black hole in the middle of his life. He had no idea what he was looking for or what might fill that black hole—but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t settling down, getting married and having babies, whatever his family might think.
The second he walked into the kitchen, he was greeted with a hug and then a cuff round the ear by his aunt.
‘I’m too old and—at nearly a foot taller than you—too big for that,’ he said with a grin.
‘That’s what you’d like to think. I’m older and wiser and I know better. So where is she, then?’ Annetta asked.
‘Who?’
‘This bella ragazza Marco’s told me about. Francesca. This nice Italian girl.’
‘Netti, dolcezza, you know I adore you. But you’re jumping to conclusions.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘First of all, Fran’s not Italian.’
‘With a name like Francesca?’ Annetta scoffed. ‘Come off it.’
‘She’s not Italian,’ Gio repeated. ‘Secondly, she happens to be my new office manager. You lot have been nagging me for months and months and months to pace myself and take some time off—aren’t you pleased that I’m finally taking your advice and hiring myself some help?’
But his aunt refused to be diverted. ‘Marco says she’s nice. She has a pretty smile. And that you don’t look at her as if she’s a colleague.’
‘Yes, she’s nice,’ Gio agreed. ‘But Marco’s just become a dad and he’s sleep-deprived. He’s seeing things that aren’t there. She’s my colleague. And I’m not looking to settle down.’
‘You’re not even looking at going out with anyone, let alone settling down! And you need a social life as well as your work,’ Annetta said, pursing her lips. ‘You need someone to take you in hand. Why not this so-called “new office manager” of yours?’
‘Because.’ Gio knew better than to get drawn into this argument. He’d be here all night. ‘Netti, cara, I should get back to Fran, before she decides I’m going to be a terrible boss and changes her mind. And Marco did say you’d made us crème brûlée with raspberries…’
‘Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily,’ his aunt warned, but she smiled and handed him the two dessert dishes. ‘Ring your mother tonight. You don’t call her enough. And you work too hard.’
‘Sì, mia zia. I know. That’s the way I’m made. It’s how Mazetti men are.’
She threw up her hands. ‘You’re impossible.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks for the pudding.’
‘My pleasure, piccolo.’ She shooed him towards the door. ‘Off you go, then. Back to the bella ragazza.’
Uh-oh. She clearly hadn’t listened to a word he’d said. That, or she’d decided not to believe him. ‘Please remember, Netti, Fran’s my office manager, not my girlfriend. Whatever you, my mother or Nonna would like to think—or dream up between the three of you,’ he said.
Annetta laughed. ‘You can tell Nonna that yourself. You know she’s coming over from Milan in about three weeks.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Gio said, ‘whether that’s a threat or a promise.’ He laughed, and fled from the kitchen before his aunt could flick a wet tea-towel at him.
Gio placed the dish of crème brûlée in front of Fran. ‘This will be the best you’ve ever tasted,’ he told her.
It certainly looked good. ‘How was your aunt?’ she asked politely.
‘Fine. I was told off for not taking you to meet her. But…’ He shook his head. ‘As one of four kids, you’ve got a better chance than most people of coping with the Mazettis. But you’ve only just agreed to be my office manager. I don’t want them scaring you off before you’ve even started.’
‘How would they do that?’
‘The women are—how can I put this nicely?—bossy. I grew up in a house with four women, so I can just about hold my own with my mother and my sisters—and my aunt. But when they add Nonna to the mix…’ He groaned. ‘She’s coming over from Milan in three weeks’ time. So I’m going to have to go into hiding.’
‘Your grandmother’s really that scary?’
‘No-o. Not exactly. She’s very straightforward—she tends to tell things like they are. I don’t think you’d have a problem with that. But…’ he sighed ‘…as I said, she’s got this thing about wanting me to settle down. Mum and Netti are her sidekicks, and they’ve got Marco on the team now—his wife had a little girl two weeks ago, and he’s just besotted with his wife and daughter. He thinks I should do what he’s done: find the perfect wife for me and have babies.’
He looked utterly horrified at the idea.
So was he the odd one out in his family, too? The one who didn’t want to do what all the others had done?
She smiled wryly. ‘I suppose that’s the good thing about being from a family of academics. Nobody expects you to settle down until you’re at least thirty. So I’m safe for the next four years or so.’
‘Is that what you want?’ Gio asked. ‘To settle down and have babies?’
A family to belong to. Where she’d fit smack into the middle of things. Be the hub.
She suppressed the shiver of longing. ‘Right now, I’m quite happy being single and fancy-free,’ she said lightly.
‘Hallelujah. Finally I’ve found someone female who’s on my wavelength—who actually understands where I’m coming from. You’re going to be on my side on this, right?’ Gio raised his glass to her. ‘To us. And we’re going to make a brilliant team.’
The pudding was indeed the best Fran had ever tasted. The coffee was good, too. And when they’d settled the bill and left the pizzeria, she was shocked to realise how late it was—how long she’d been chatting to Gio at the restaurant.
A man she’d only just met.
And yet, weirdly, it felt as if she’d known him for years. She couldn’t remember feeling so comfortable with someone so soon—ever.
‘I’ll see you home,’ Gio said.
She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but there’s really no need. I can look after myself.’
‘Remember, I was brought up the Italian way—it doesn’t feel right just to abandon you at the door of my aunt’s pizzeria and let you find your own way home. Let me at least walk you to the Tube station.’ Clearly he sensed that she was about to refuse, because he added, ‘Besides, we need to discuss when you’re going to start tomorrow and which branch, so we might as well—’
‘—multi-task it,’ she finished.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘See. You can even read my mind.’
‘Hardly. Marco did tell me it was your favourite phrase,’ she reminded him with a smile. ‘OK. As long as it’s not taking you out of your way.’
‘I live within walking distance of the station,’ he said. ‘And it’s a warm, dry evening. The fresh air will do me good.’
By the time he’d walked her to Goodge Street station, they’d agreed to meet at the coffee shop on Charlotte Street at half past nine, and she’d checked the dress code—the baristas all wore black trousers or skirts and a white shirt, so she’d do the same. Gio insisted on waiting with her on the platform until she’d got on to the Tube, and then sketched a wave before striding off again.
When one door closes, another opens.
And how. She’d lost her dream job, stared failure in the face, then only a few hours later, she’d been offered something that might turn out to be even better. Something where she’d have free rein.
Gio was prepared to take a chance on her. So she’d take a chance on him. And she had a month to find out if she’d made the right choice.
The following morning, Gio had just finished signing for a delivery when Fran walked in.
He was used to seeing her on a Wednesday morning—but not this early, and only for the couple of minutes it took her to order her cappuccino and almond croissant. Seeing her now and knowing that she was going to be spending the day in his office, sitting at his desk, in his chair, felt…weird.
‘Good morning,’ she said.
Lord, she had the sweetest smile. A smile that did things to him. Things he hadn’t expected. He tried to ignore the flutter at the base of his spine and strove for casualness. ‘Hi.’
‘Sorry I’m a bit early.’
‘Well, you have to make a good impression on your first day,’ he teased. He introduced her swiftly to the baristas. ‘This is Fran. She’s our new office manager. And, no, before you ask, it doesn’t mean you can all go swanning off inter-railing like Kelly and let me cover your shifts.’
Sally clicked her fingers. ‘Damn. And there I was, planning to spend the summer on a beach full of gorgeous Italian men.’
Gio laughed. ‘That’s easy. Just go to one of my family’s back gardens on a Sunday afternoon.’
‘A sandpit and a horde of boys under the age of seven isn’t quite the same thing, Gio.’
‘They’re male, Italian and gorgeous, yes?’
She groaned. ‘Yes.’
‘And there’s sand.’
‘But no sea.’
‘That’s a minor detail. Plus, everyone has a freezer full of Nando’s best ice cream. What more do you need?’ he teased.
Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Welcome to the madhouse, Fran.’
‘Thanks. I think.’ Fran smiled back.
‘Let me show you round,’ Gio said. He gave her a tour of the coffee shop, then showed her into the small staff kitchen, rest room and office at the back of the shop.
Judging by the papers piled in a haphazard mountain on the desk, filing clearly wasn’t his thing—and he obviously knew it, because he looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I do know where everything is. I’m just not that good at putting things away.’
‘And I bet your computer’s the same. All the files lumped under one directory.’
‘I’m not quite that bad.’ Gio’s blue eyes softened. ‘I’ve just been too busy lately to keep on top of the filing. I did tell you I needed someone to sort me out. I’ll get you a coffee and then I’ll talk you through the computer systems.’
He reappeared shortly after with two mugs of coffee.
‘You need these.’ She handed him an envelope. ‘Details for your personnel records.’
He opened the envelope and looked through the files. ‘CV, emergency contact details, NI number, bank details—great, thanks—hmm, no, don’t need these.’ He handed the references back to her without even a cursory scan of the text.
‘Why not?’
‘The new studio owners are probably going to feel guilty about pushing you out so they’ll have written you a very glowing reference to make up for it. On the other hand, they’re also too short-sighted to see what they’ve passed up—so I doubt if their views are worth the paper they’re written on.’ He smiled to take the sting from his words. ‘Besides, I told you yesterday, I’m a good judge of character. So even though one or two of my baristas came with less-than-glowing reports from previous employers, I went by my gut instinct and I was proved right. They came good.’
‘One of your grandmother’s sayings?’ she guessed.
‘If you see the best in people, they’ll give you their best.’ He nodded. ‘Actually, there was one thing we didn’t discuss yesterday. Money. You’re working for Giovanni’s, so you need a salary. What were you on at your last place?’
She told him.
He sighed. ‘I can just about match that, but I’m afraid I can’t raise it. You’d probably get a lot more from a financial services company or one of the big ad agencies.’
‘But you,’ she said, ‘promised me free rein.’
He smiled. ‘I trust you not to make changes just for the sake of it.’ He talked her through the different systems on the computer, showing her how the information was coded for each of the four branches and how they fed into an overall system. ‘Your username is “marsfran”, and this is your password.’ He scribbled her initials and a series of numbers on to a piece of paper.
‘You sorted this out for me already?’
He shrugged. ‘It didn’t take long. Besides, I’d left some papers here that I needed last night.’ He hadn’t stayed particularly long. In peace and quiet with no interruptions, you could get a lot done in a couple of hours. Which was why he was usually in not long after dawn. Before the rush started.
‘I’m beginning to see what your cousin means about you being a workaholic,’ Fran said dryly.
‘Don’t tell me you’re going over to their team. I need you on my side.’ He smiled at her. ‘Well, the best way to get used to new systems and what have you is to play with them. If you get stuck, just give me a yell. I’ll leave you to it to book yourself on the food hygiene course—the place I normally use is in the address book under “food hygiene course”—and take a look through the systems.’
‘And do your filing?’ she asked, raising one eyebrow.
Gio pantomimed innocence. ‘I didn’t ask—but as you’ve just offered…’
She laughed. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Give me a yell if you need anything or you get stuck. Otherwise, I’ll bring you some coffee and an almond croissant.’ He smiled at her. ‘I haven’t forgotten about the barista training, but the morning rush is probably not the best time to introduce you to the delights of the espresso machine and the milk frother. Maybe if there’s an afternoon lull? Or just before I strip the machines down after we close?’
‘You’re the boss,’ she said lightly. ‘You tell me.’
‘Later,’ he promised, winked, and left her to it.
The day went surprisingly quickly. Fran sorted out the filing and worked through the different systems, making a list of questions for Gio as she went. He came in a couple of times, bearing a cup of coffee or a cool drink—and one time bringing her a list of what he needed ordering from the suppliers for delivery to each branch, the following morning—but for the most part she was on her own in Gio’s office.
The wallpaper on his computer screen was a family photograph. His parents, she guessed, plus three younger women who had to be his sisters, and an older woman who was probably his Italian grandmother. Gio was standing right in the middle of them, with a huge smile on his face. Whatever his protests about not wanting to settle down, he clearly loved his family. And he’d given up his dreams for them. He was a man who wasn’t afraid to make sacrifices. Who’d give everything for those he loved.
At the end of their shifts, Sally and Ian put their heads round the door to say goodbye. Fran felt a weird glow spread through her. Her first day, and already she was accepted as part of the team. Just as she’d been at the voiceover studio. Maybe this was going to work out just fine.
She logged off the computer, and then Gio walked in. ‘Wow. Are you Mary Poppins in disguise? You know, waving a magic wand and everything tidies itself up and marches in the right order into the right file in the right drawer?’
She laughed. ‘All you needed was a system. And it wasn’t actually that bad. There was a kind of order to the chaos.’
He perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘The office looks better than it has in years. I normally don’t let Dad anywhere near here—in his day he kept things absolutely spotless, and seeing it in a mess would be an excuse for him to get back in here and start working stupid hours again.’
Considering the hours Gio worked…‘Like father, like son?’
‘But I’m twenty-eight, not fifty-eight. And I haven’t had a heart attack.’ Gio made a face. ‘I just want him to take things easy and not worry.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘But we need to sort out this barista training. We said we’d do it now, after closing, but you were in early this morning. So tomorrow I don’t want to see you until eleven, OK?’
She blinked. ‘But…’
‘No buts.’ He held up one hand to forestall any protest. ‘Your hours are Monday to Friday, nine to five with an hour for lunch. If you work more than that, you take time in lieu or you fill out an overtime form. I don’t expect you to work the same hours I do.’
Reminding her—in a nice way—that he was the boss and she was the employee. And she’d better keep that in mind. This was an employer–employee relationship, nothing else.
‘So how’s your first day been?’ he asked.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I like Ian and Sally. And the people in the other branches were fine when they spoke to me.’
