Romancing the Alpha Page 7

  She sighed, thinking about the bills piling up in her office. “Fine. Seat him, serve him, I don’t care.”

  “Aren’t you gonna go and talk to him?” Enzo inquired. “I think it’s pretty obvious he’s not here two nights in a row because he liked our Osso Bucco.” He gave her a knowing grin.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she tossed her head, shaking the water off.

  “Oh you know what I mean,” he thrust his hips in a meaningful way. “Someone’s looking to get his dick stroked.”

  “Oh gross! You’re my brother!” she threw a dishrag at him.

  “What if he asks for you?”

  “Tell him I’m busy! Or unavailable! Or I jumped off a cliff!” she stormed off to her office and slammed the door behind her.

  ***

  By the third night in a row that Grant had showed up at Muccino’s, Frankie simply had enough. When she spied him walking through the front door as she was helping the servers get the dining room ready, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the front.

  “Let me seat you at your table, sir,” she said, grabbing the menus from Enzo’s hands.

  “So formal, Frankie?” Grant asked, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. His gaze swept over her outfit, an off-the-shoulder blue top and skinny jeans that molded to her assets. He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I like what you’re wearing now, though I prefer last night’s shirt.”

  She turned red, all the way to the tips of her ears, but continued to walk as he followed behind. “Here you go,” she motioned to the table set up for one person. It was right by the kitchen, at the edge of the dining room. At that moment, the door swung open, hitting the single chair in the back.

  “I think I’d rather sit over there,” he motioned to the many other empty tables in the middle of room.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” she said sweetly, giving him her best smile. “I’m afraid we’re fully booked tonight.”

  “All those tables are reserved?” he asked.

  “Yup. All of them. If you’re not happy with this table, might I suggest the Denny’s…in the next town over?” She gave him another sugary smile.

  “This table is fine,” he returned her smile and sat down.

  “Here you go,” she handed him the menus. “Enjoy your dinner.”

  “Wait,” he put a hand on her hers to stop her from leaving. “What can you recommend for dinner tonight? And a wine to go with it.”

  “I’m not your server, but let me get him for you,” she said, pulling her hand away. She stalked to the kitchen and as soon as she entered, she let out a frustrated scream.

  “What’s wrong, mimma?” Nonna Gianna asked, a frown on her face. The old lady was dressed in her usual hairnet and apron, a sharp knife in her hand as she chopped up some fresh herbs with scary speed and efficiency.

  “Argghhh! He’s here again, Nonna,” Frankie frowned. “Grant Anderson. The Alpha.”

  Nonna Gianna put her knife down on the block, digging the tip into the wood so deep the sharp tool stuck straight up. “Is he bothering you?” She took her apron off. “Let me go to talk him.”

  “Ha!” Frankie said to no one in particular as she watched her great-aunt march out into the dining room. You show him, Nonna, she thought smugly. If anyone could put Grant Anderson in his place, it was her Nonna Gianna.

  She straightened up the serving bowls and plates piled on the side, thinking about how her great-aunt was probably cutting the smug Alpha down to size. Satisfied, with her work, she headed out into the dining room, preparing to toss Grant Anderson out of restaurant and out of her life.

  She was surprised, however, instead of shouting and screaming, she heard feminine giggles.

  “Oh, Mr. Anderson, you’re too much!” Nonna Gianna said in a high voice as she blushed. She was sitting on the other chair, across from him.

  “Please, call me Grant,” the Alpha flashed her a smile and took her hand, giving it a kiss. “You’re ruined me, Gianna. I can never eat any other Osso Bucco but yours.”

  Nonna Gianna giggled again.

  “Nonna!” Frankie stood by their table, her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh Frankie,” the older woman practically purred. “You never told me your Grant-”

  “He’s not my Grant!” Frankie protested.

  “Well, you never told me Grant was so…” she looked over to the man across the table from her. “Handsome. And Charming.”

  “And I knew the person making those delicious ricotta zeppoles was a talented cook, but I didn’t realize she was gorgeous too,” Grant gave the older lady a wink.

  Frankie threw her hands up in frustration and turned away, her face turning sour. All the staff watched her as she stormed out of the dining room. As soon as the door to her office closed, she knew they would start gossiping, which only infuriated her more.

  “Urgghhh!” she groaned and sat on her chair. She took out her phone and scrolled through her phone book until she found Alynna’s number. She began typing out a text message.

  We need to talk about your brother.

  The reply came immediately

  Grant?

  Frankie rolled her eyes and typed back. Do you have any other stubborn Alpha brothers?

  He’s not here right now, came the reply.

  She sighed. I know. He’s here. At my restaurant.

  In Jersey?!? Y?

  “Damned if I know,” she said out loud. With a sigh, she began to type back.

  Says he was hungry. He’s been here three nights in a row. Can you please do something about him? People are starting to notice. My clan will want to know why I’ve let a neighboring Alpha have free reign in my territory.

  There was a longer pause before Alynna’s next reply. This time, however, it was a string of smiley faces and hearts.

  Her brows knitted in confusion. What does that mean? Will you tell him to go home or not?

  Hahaha. It means I’m totally shipping you guys. The end of the message was tagged by a row of smiley faces with hearts in their eyes.

  “Shipping?” she asked aloud. She typed again. What does shipping mean?

  Google it, girl. Sorry, gtg, I need my beauty sleep. TTYL!

  Frankie stared at the screen. “What the hell?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Nice dress,” Enzo said cheekily as he passed by her office. “Are you expecting anyone special tonight?”

  “Oh, get out of here!” she slammed the door in his face. Frankie looked at her herself in the mirror behind the door and sighed. She smoothed down the front of her white floral dress, which clung to her generous curves.

  At first glance, the dress looked conservative. The sleeves came up to her elbows, and the skirt fell just below her knees, but the wide sweetheart neckline neck showed off her slender neck, delicate collarbones and just a hint of cleavage. She wore white pumps, not too high that they were uncomfortable, but just enough to add height to her frame and elongate her legs.

  It’s Friday, she told herself. They were fully booked, according to Enzo. That meant she had to be at the front of house and help out where she can. She definitely did not dress up because she was hoping to see a certain stubborn, smug Alpha.

  It was just before seven p.m., which meant the dinner crowd was going to arrive soon. Frankie checked her makeup one last time, smoothed down her long, wavy black hair back with her fingers and left the office to go to the dining room. She wasn’t even halfway across the dining room when she spotted the tall Alpha, waiting at the host’s station. His face broke into a smile when he spotted her. She rolled her eyes as she approached him.

  “Hey, Frankie!” came a voice from behind Grant.

  “Alynna?” Frankie’s eyes widened in surprised. “You’re here!” Alex was standing right beside her, his arm around his wife. She came over and embraced the younger woman, giving her a kiss on the cheek, while her husband nodded reverently at her, as a sign of respect. She gathered him into her arms fo
r a warm hug.

  “Yeah well,” Alynna looked at Grant. “I heard the food was so good here, and it was worth coming back for. Three nights in a row, in fact.”

  Frankie let out a huff, her nostrils flaring in anger. “We do our best,” she straightened her back and took two sets of menus from the host’s station. “Let me get you a table,” she said.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have a reservation,” Alex said sheepishly. “And looks like you’ve got a full house tonight, Lupa,” he looked meaningfully at all the people waiting behind them.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she tossed her hair over her shoulders. “And call me Frankie, Alex, we don’t do that Lupa-Regal shit over here. I’ll take care of it. Go right ahead.” She motioned to the dining room, letting Alynna and Alex go ahead of her. When Grant tried to follow along, she stepped in front of him. “I’m sorry, sir, do you have a reservation?”

  “Actually, I do,” he looked down, giving her a sweet smile. “I booked it last night.”

  Frankie looked at the reservation book. “Tsk, tsk,” she shook her head and gave him a mock sad smile. “I’m afraid your reservation is at 7 p.m. and it’s only 6:54 p.m. You’ll have to wait.” She shrugged and left him to seat Alynna and Alex.

  ***

  Grant’s eyes remained fixed on Frankie as she walked away from him, her hips swaying as she made her way to the center of the dining room.

  He couldn’t look away, not after seeing her in that dress, showing off her every curve, with her glorious hair unbound, lips painted red and anger flashing in her bi-colored eyes. She was magnificent and seeing her, scenting her, made his blood boil with desire. No other woman had gotten under his skin the way Francesca Muccino did, and to think they hadn’t even slept together yet. He knew he had to have her or he would go insane. The other Alpha was proving to be difficult, but Grant Anderson never backed down from a challenge, especially when the prize was worth it.

  As soon as Frankie walked away, Enzo came by, gave him a pitiful look, and then led him to one of the tables close to the center. Thankfully, they didn’t stick him at the worst table again, but he made reservations just in case.

  “Do you know what you’d like, sir?” His server asked as he finally sat down.

  Grant looked up and blinked at the young man in the black shirt, skinny red tie, dark pants and wingtips. The server was almost a carbon copy of Enzo and Matteo, but probably a few years younger. He searched his memory, trying to think of the name Frankie mentioned.

  “Rafe, right?” he asked.

  The young man nodded. “Yes, sir, I’m Rafe. Rafe Morretti,” he paused, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Hey, you’re Grant Anderson! CEO of Fenrir Corporation, right?”

  Grant nodded, “Yes. I’m sure your sister and brothers told you about me.”

  “What? No they didn’t tell me you were dining here tonight,” he shook his head. “Sorry, I mean…it’s an honor to meet you! I’m a student at NJU and we were doing a case study in my Business Management class about your company. I also saw you on the cover of Fortune Magazine.” The young man held out his hand and Grant shook it.

  “Oh, so you’re studying business?” Grant inquired.

  “Yes. Well, double major. Doing my pre-law and Business degree together,” he said proudly. “I’m hoping to get into Harvard Law when I graduate.”

  “Harvard’s a great school,” Grant said. “I went there for undergrad and MBA.”

  “I know. I mean, I read about it. Wow, this is really…” Rafe seemed flustered. “Sir, it’s great to meet you!”

  “Please, call me Grant,” he said with a smile. “And double major, huh? I’m sure Harvard will be lucky to have you in a few years.” Grant took out his wallet and gave the young man a white card. “Here’s my card. Fenrir is always looking for interns every semester, you know. I’m sure we can find something for you there, if you’re interested. Help beef up your resume before you apply to law school.”

  Rafe’s eyes went wide and took the card from him, carefully tucking it into his from shirt pocket like it was gold. “Th-thank you!”

  “Everything, ok, Rafe?” Enzo asked as he passed by the table. “Hey Grant, did you figure out what you want tonight? We have a nice Ruffino Reserva Chianti, it’ll pair well with the fish special!”

  Grant glanced at the menu and then at Rafe. “You know what, that sounds great. Go ahead and get me the special, the Chianti, and then maybe the calamari salad and the caccio e peppe to start?”

  Rafe nodded. “Will do! Nice to meet you, Mr.- I mean, Grant.” And with that, he left to go to the kitchen.

  Enzo shook his head. “Hope he wasn’t botherin’ you, Grant. Did he go all fanboy on you? I shoulda warned him you might be here.”

  Grant chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. He’s a nice boy. Seems bright too, huh?”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty proud of him. And Matt too,” he said. “Of course, they must’ve gotten all the brainy genes, huh?”

  “Well, you’re all very accomplished, I’m sure your mom would have been proud,” Grant said. “And not everyone needs to go to college to be smart, trust me.” He thought of his sister, who was street-smart and intelligent, despite never having stepped foot in a college classroom.

  “Ha, sure, sure,” Enzo gave him a good-natured pat on the shoulder and went back to his station to seat more guests.

  As he relaxed in his chair, Grant glanced over at Alynna and Alex. Frankie had personally taken their orders and was already on her way to the kitchen to get their food. Alynna glanced over at him, raised her water glass and gave him a knowing smile. The sly young woman had manipulated her way to dinner, of course, though Grant could hardly say no to her.

  That afternoon, once the workday was done, Grant made his way to the garage and much to his surprise, Alynna and Alex were waiting for him by his town car.

  “Alynna, Alex, what are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Oh, a little birdie told me you’ve been having Italian for dinner for the last couple of days,” Alynna smirked.

  “Well, a man’s gotta eat, right? Goodnight,” Grant said nothing more, but walked over to the passenger door. John Patrick, his security detail for the day, was already holding it open for him. As he slid inside, Alynna pushed her way in, moving surprisingly quick for someone whose belly was as big as a basketball. “Alynna, what are you doing?”

  “Why, my husband and I are joining my dear brother for dinner, of course,” the younger woman said sweetly, scooting to the middle to make room for Alex. “Right dear?”

  Alex gave Grant a sheepish grin. “You try saying no to her.” Grant could only imagine how Alynna conned her husband into taking her to Fenrir. Not that the younger man minded. Much like Grant, he would do anything for Alynna.

  Grant rolled his eyes. “You don’t have reservations and it’s a Friday night.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the manager won’t mind,” she settled back into the seat, rubbing her belly. “Your niece or nephew is hungry. No one will deny a pregnant woman food, especially not her.”

  Her brother sighed in defeat. “Let’s go, Patrick.”

  Grant smirked, and raised his own glass to the couple. A few minutes later, Frankie came out of the kitchen with a plate of food, and placed it on their table.

  As the night went on, his eyes never left Frankie while she worked the dining room. They were packed tonight, which was a stark difference from the last three nights. She was efficient, graceful, and played the perfect hostess, refilling glasses here and there, and asking diners if everything was alright.

  The one table she avoided was his, of course, but he didn’t mind. He loved watching her move and do her thing. Her smile lit up the room and she could tell that the patrons appreciated the personal touch. He felt pride, watching her work and caring for her people - not just the diners, but her staff too. Nothing was beneath her, whether it was helping a nervous young server who was carrying a tray of water glasses or the bus boy cleari
ng away plates. This was a woman who knew how to work and took pride in what she did.

  When Frankie stopped by a particularly rowdy group of male diners about two tables from him - college kids, most likely - Grant frowned. He didn’t like the way the young men looked at Frankie, like they were undressing her with their eyes, their gaze lingering too long on her cleavage and her ass whenever she walked by. His keen ears tuned out the din of the room and focused on what they were saying.

  “Say, sweet cheeks,” one of the men said, most likely their ringleader. “Tell me, is there anything not on the menu I can have for…dessert?”

  Grant growled softly, catching his meaning.

  “Well sir,” Frankie replied coolly. “We could make some affogato for you and your friends. It’s ice-cream with espresso and then we can add some whipped cream on top, if you like.”

  The man looked at his companions with a grin. “I know what I’d like with whipped cream on top,” his eyes lingered on her breasts.

  Grant gripped the table so hard he thought it would break. Something, a gut instinct maybe, screamed at him to go over there and wipe the grin from the man’s face.

  From their table, Alynna looked at him, a worried look on her face. Are you ok? She mouthed.

  He nodded, but turned his attention back to Frankie and those Neanderthals. She had obviously shot them down and rolled her eyes, but as she turned to leave, the young man grabbed her arm.

  “Hey sweet cheeks, where’re you going? We’re not done.”

  “Oh, I think we’re done.” Anger blazed in her eyes, and she took his wrist with her other hand and pried it away. “And once you’re done with your dessert, paid your bill, and left a sizable tip, you will leave immediately.”

  The man’s face scrunched up in anger. “Listen here, I’ll tell you when I’m done and when I’m going to leave.” He grabbed her ass, giving it a squeeze.

  Grant stood up so fast, the table nearly knocked over, his chair making a scraping noise across the floor. Before he could get to her, however, a loud cracking sound rang through the dining room.