“Thanks, cuz!” she cried, gathering the bills and tucking them into her purse. When she looked up, her gaze landed on Lucas. “Is this your friend, Sof? The one Pappoús said was helping out in the kitchen?”
Sofia whirled around, her lips tightening as he drew closer.
“Miss me?”
“No,” she snapped back. “I barely noticed you were around.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Of course not.” Liar. He was pretty sure she peeked inside the kitchen throughout the night. Once or twice, he caught her face through the window and knew she was looking at him.
“Hello,” he said, turning to the younger woman. “I’m Lucas.”
“I’m Nicki. Sofia’s my cousin,” she explained. “Where did you meet Sofia?”
“I was her suspect in a murder investigation,” he offered cheerfully.
Sofia glared at him, but Nicki giggled. “Ha ha, right.” She leaned over to her cousin and stage-whispered, “He’s cute. Don’t scare this one too much, okay?”
“What?” Sofia managed to squeak.
“Nice to meet you, Lucas. I’ll see you soon, cuz.” Nicki was already waving goodbye and walking out the door.
“Is that what you do? Scare boys away?”
Sofia’s hand fisted at her side and she shot daggers at him with her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“I helped out in the kitchen,” he said.
“That’s not what I mean!” She threw her hands up. “And what was that all about? How the hell do you know how to do kitchen work?”
“Ah, so you were watching me?”
Her face went red, and she opened her mouth but stopped when Giorgios interrupted them. “Sofia! Lucas!” He clapped one hand on his shoulder and the other one wrapped around Sofia’s upper arm. “We’re done for the day, thank goodness! Come, come, we have wine at our best table.”
They didn’t have much choice as the old man dragged them over to the middle table on the right side of the dining room, flush against the wall. George was already sitting down, a bottle of wine and four glasses in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said to Giorgios.
“No, no, thank you.” The older man smiled warmly as he took his seat next to his son.
Sofia had already taken the seat against the wall and so Lucas slid in beside her. He flashed her a grin, but she remained stony-faced.
“You really did save our bacon, tonight.” George wiped his face with the towel slung over his shoulder. “We were deep in the weeds when you came.”
“And he didn’t need our help at all!” Giorgios exclaimed. “Look at this one, eh? So comfortable in the kitchen. From your expensive shoes and shirt, I thought you were one of those big shot Wall Street guys. But, no, you’ve worked in a restaurant before, right? It’s very obvious.”
“I did, when I was much younger.” He nodded gratefully as George pushed a glass of red wine toward him, then took a sip. Huh. “This is excellent.”
“I know the guy who supplies all the fancy restaurants in Manhattan,” the older man winked at him. “He says he gives me the best price while charging those high-end places like Le Cirque and Muccino’s twice as much as we pay.”
Lucas choked and slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from spitting wine all over Giorgios’s face. The alcohol burned as it went down the wrong pipe.
“Are you all right?” Giorgios offered him a handkerchief.
“I’m fine. Thanks.” He cleared his throat, making a mental note to have a talk with Uncle Dante about his wine supplier. Beside him, Sofia huffed and took a sip of her own wine. This evening made her even more of a puzzle, and he was determined to find out more about her. “So, did you start this restaurant, Mr. Selinofoto?”
“Please, call me Giorgios. Everyone does. And yes, young man, I did. Came here to America when my kids were still toddlers and I had been widowed for two years. The Greek community here is very close, and with a lot of help, I was able to open this restaurant more than thirty years ago.”
“Don’t be modest, Pappoús.” Sofia said. “You wouldn’t have stayed in business if the food wasn’t so good.”
“And if you didn’t have a famous client.” George cocked his head to the photo by the entrance.
“Her?” Huh. Now that he thought of it, that young man in the photo did look a lot like Giorgios. “You cooked for her? On her yacht?”
“On the yacht.” Giorgios wiggled his eyebrows.
“Papa was half in love with her,” George said, but his voice was teasing. “He named our signature dessert after her.”
“Bah, half the world was in love with her! I heard a king offered to marry her and make her his queen. But, no, she only had eyes for the billionaire.” He chuckled. “Too bad he was married and was keeping that opera star as a mistress.”
“The things we do for love.” As George sipped on his wine, his eyes darted up, toward one of the photos hanging on the wall above them. It was a portrait of a woman dressed in a full formal police uniform, smiling at the camera.
Lucas did a double-take, then looked at Sofia. “That’s your mom, right? She looks like you.”
“Yes,” Giorgios answered for her. “Our dear Nadia.”
“She’s very beautiful,” he commented.
“She was.” Sofia took a sip of her wine and then looked ahead, a blank look on her face.
“Oh.” He tried to meet her gaze, but she refused to look at him. “I’m sorry.” He wanted to hold her hand or do something to comfort her.
“Sofia was just thirteen years old when Nadia passed away,” George began, his voice somber. “She worked as a beat cop and died while on duty.”
“It was very sad,” Giorgios said quietly. “She was like my own daughter. And she was very brave. Sofia looked up to her a lot.”
At that moment, Lucas wanted to kick his own ass. It was obvious she loved being a
