“This team will give you what you want, Bret. Brooke’s suggestion might just give you what you need to come back to us next year for more.”
Downes tossed his pen on the table in front of him and stood. “All right. Let’s see what you come up with in the next two weeks. If it starts to look like I’m catering to Walmart and Target, I’ll find another firm.”
He shook Portia’s hand before walking out the door.
Once it was shut behind him, Portia turned to the rest of them.
“Two weeks. I want to see everything before you show it to Downes. Nayla, make sure there is enough of the flash that he wants. Brooke, keep it real so the man sells something. Mayson, make sure it turns the heads of everyone looking . . . and Kayleigh . . .” The girl sat taller. “I did not hire you onto this team to nod and agree with everyone. If you have an opinion, voice it. Be prepared to hear it sucks and work to make it better. Understood?”
Kayleigh’s smile fell. “Yes.”
“I fly out in the morning. I’ll be back for the final in two weeks. Let’s do this.”
Portia walked out the door, and Brooke released a breath.
“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing,” Nayla voiced the second Portia was gone.
Mayson sat back and laughed. “Brooke’s been pitching this for years.”
“We have an opportunity here to influence a designer to let out a stitch here, change a fabric there, and stop making women believe they have to starve themselves for fashion.”
“Most of his designs are already in production.”
“Production of sizes greater than a two. We’ll be fine.”
Nayla looked at her watch. “Meet in my room in an hour.”
Kayleigh followed her out.
Brooke and Mayson bumped fists when they were alone. “Showtime.”
The shrill of the phone yanked Luca out of a deep sleep.
His hand reached for it and he fumbled to answer. “Yeah?” he said, placing it to his ear.
“Luca?”
It was a woman. His mind went to the only woman he would expect a call from in the middle of the night. “Brooke?” Only it didn’t sound like her.
The line was silent.
“Hello?” Luca reached over, turned on the bedside light.
“It’s Antonia, my darling. I need your help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
She was thinner, if that was possible. Her hair longer . . . but her eyes were the same ones he looked into every day with their daughter.
They stood just inside the front door of the restaurant.
Antonia had called from outside, her car parked down the street.
He had no desire to have her in his home, but having her outside on the phone with him in the middle of the night would be worse.
“You look good, Luca. It’s like you don’t age.”
He had no desire to exchange pleasantries.
“What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned a full circle and stepped deeper inside. “This place doesn’t change. Better, if I’m honest. I see the outside seating on the street.”
“Antonia.” Her name was his way of getting her to talk.
“Give me a moment, Luca. This is hard for me.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
“Barely one in the morning. I’m surprised the restaurant isn’t still buzzing with activity.”
She clearly didn’t remember that by one they were always closed unless a private party was involved.
“How is Mama? Are Chloe and Giovanni still here?”
Luca’s jaw ached with the question that didn’t come out of her mouth.
“Your daughter is fine, thank you for asking.”
Antonia brought a hand to her mouth, her smile falling. She took a few short breaths and looked him straight in the eye. “I’ve made a terrible mistake. I need to undo it before it’s too late.”
“What is it? An overextended credit card, a car payment you can’t make?” The woman knew how to create bills. Paying them was never her strong suit.
“Our daughter, Luca. With Francesca. I made a mistake walking away. I thought it was best. Probably was, since I had some growing up to do. But I can’t go another day not knowing her.”
Luca felt cells in his body freezing.
The ones that stood in warning.
As much as he hated Antonia for walking out of Franny’s life, he knew, in his gut, it was for the best. She would only disappoint their daughter in ways Luca could not save her from.
And why now? “This couldn’t wait until the morning?”
“If I came in the morning, people would see me. And I wanted to give you the courtesy of seeing me first.”
“You want me to thank you? You disappear from Franny’s life for—”
“Please don’t tell me you call her Franny. You know how much I hated that.”
Luca glared. “Franny’s life. Divorce me, walk away from what was us . . . but your daughter?”
Antonia looked around. “Can we sit for this conversation? I’ve been driving for hours.”
“So you’ve been within driving distance this whole time?”
Her face lost all expression. “Not all of it, no. Above Napa this last year.”
He closed his eyes, stopped the slew of questions that wanted to spill out. “I don’t want to have this conversation at all.”
She sat at the closest table without invitation.
“This isn’t how this should go, Luca. I am sorry. I am. We both know I wasn’t ready to be a mother.”
“And you think you are now?”
She swept her hair over one shoulder, and it was then that Luca noticed the thick layer of makeup on her face. Lipstick in place, eyebrows perfectly painted. She had always been polished, but it was obvious she came in here looking her best. And in his experience, women did this for a reason.
“I know I am now.”
“How?”
She looked up at him, her expression blank.
“I’ve grown up.”
Luca ran both hands through his hair. “Where are you staying?”
“Excuse me?”
“What hotel?”
“I just arrived in town. I came straight here.”
Jesus Ch—
“You’re not staying here.”
She had the nerve to look shocked. “San Diego is expensive, Luca. I don’t have the funds for a hotel.”
This wasn’t his problem.
“I can stay on the couch.”
“No!”
“In the family room upstairs.”
Brooke. Jesus . . . Brooke.
“That isn’t an option.”
Antonia widened her eyes and looked up. “I can call Rosa. She always has a spare room.”
Luca cringed. Outside of being one of his mother’s oldest friends, the woman was the biggest gossip in Little Italy.
Left with little choice, Luca walked behind the bar and turned on a light.
He found the number he was looking for and dialed it.
“Good evening. Marriott Marquis . . . how can I help you?”
Luca glared at his ex-wife. “I need a room.”
Ten minutes later, Luca was locking the restaurant door after Antonia had walked out.
He thrust a fist against the doorframe and cussed at the universe.