“Okay, I think we’re good,” Brendan says with a laugh.
Behind the bar, I see Rafael Marco watching us. He drains what’s left of his drink in one swallow.
This is my chance to talk to him, maybe my only shot, since he doesn’t look like the dancing type and might possibly leave early.
My stomach twists.Why does he intimidate me so much?Is it from that night in the hospital waiting room? Or because of what Taylor said? I don’t even know that it’s the truth.
Besides, I have some fresh ideas for the vendor contract that might be helpful for him to consider before he makes a decision. I’ve spent the last week refining my proposal, thinking about ways to integrate the cafe with game-day operations. If I can just get five minutes with him, it could makeall the difference.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Brendan, squeezing his hand. “I need a drink after all that dancing.”
He grins, pulling me in for one more kiss on my temple. “Don’t be long.”
I leave him with the groomsmen and make my way through the crowd, my heart pounding. When I reach the bar, I slide onto the stool next to Rafael, checking over my shoulder to make sure Brendan isn’t watching. A few of the hockey players who came today have him cornered now, which gives me at least a few minutes.
I feel like I need to do this—to prove to myself that I can talk to Rafael Marco about the contract without Brendan nearby.
Whatever happens, I need to do this for my father. The doctors say he has plenty of good years ahead of him as long as the treatments work. But good years cost us money we don’t have, and watching him stress about medical bills is something I refuse to accept anymore. This contract would give him back what matters most—time with Mom and Eli and me.
I order a club soda, then turn toward Rafael Marco. “Beautiful wedding,” I say, glancing over at him.
“Indeed.” He doesn’t look at me, just swirls the ice in his empty glass.
I take a breath, trying to steady my nerves. “Mr. Marco, I wanted to talk to you about some ideas I have for the vendor contract. If you have a moment.”
He looks at me then, and something cold slides down my spine. Or maybe my nerves are kicking in and I imagined it.
“Miss Rossi,” he says stiffly. “I can’t discuss the vendor contract with you just because you’re dating my nephew. You’ll receive a letter when I make my decision.”
“Of course, but I just wanted you to know how much this opportunity means to my family, especially with my dad sick?—”
“I’m aware,” he cuts me off. “But let me be clear: dating my nephew doesn’t give you an advantage in this decision. There isone other serious applicant with significantly more experience in other arenas.”
“Oh.” I work to keep my voice steady even though I feel like I’ve been hit by a bucket of ice water. “I see.”
He signals the bartender for another drink. “And, Miss Rossi? I know why you’re dating my nephew.”
My body goes rigid. “What do you mean?”
“You wanted the contract.” He says it like a statement of fact. “And you thought a relationship with Brendan would help you get access to the money.”
“That’s not true,” I say a bit too defensively, which I realize too late makes me sound like it is.
Still, a tiny part of me wonders if there’s a grain of truth there. Didn’t I agree to this arrangement partly for the money this contract would bring in?
No.Of course it wasn’t for the money. It was for my dad, so we can pay his medical bills and save our family business. That’s not the same as taking advantage of someone.
He accepts another drink from the bartender. “The timing is rather convenient. You submit your application, and suddenly Brendan is bringing you to family events, encouraging his mother, and everyone else, to see you as an answer to prayer.”
“No.” I shake my head, a fire igniting inside me. “I care for Brendan. I’m not using him.”
“Perhaps.” He takes a sip of his drink. “But forgive me if I’m skeptical. People always want what the Marco name has to offer them. I’ve been burned before, and it cost me considerably.” He looks back at couples dancing. “You see, I’ve been watching you two this week. And something kept nagging at me. A feeling like we’d met before.”
Everything in me grinds to a halt.No.
“You’re the girl from the hospital lobby.” He looks almost proud for figuring it out. “On the night of Carmen’s accident.”
I didn’t think I’d made enough of an impression to be remembered from that night. Apparently, I was wrong.