Stirring Up Trouble (Inspiring the Greek Billionaire) (17 page)

“I will pay whatever it takes to make my business a priority.”

She reached up and took the phone from his ear then ended the call.

“What are you doing? Why did you do that?” he asked, panicked.

Although it was torture, she placed her hand on his shoulder to calm him. “It doesn’t help to yell at the grunts. They’ll get here when they get here.”

He nodded and exhaled. “And what do we do in the meantime?”

She gently patted his cheek. “Get ready.” She twirled around and walked toward the kitchen. “Are you coming?”

She wouldn’t allow Braden to lose the only thing he loved. She couldn’t let go of him unless she knew he had
Acropolis
. Without it, he’d never find the happiness he deserved. And she could give it to him. If she had to give up her own chance at happiness in order for him to achieve his, she could live with that.

Lola called Portia and gave her the lowdown on the situation. Portia promised to come as soon as she picked up the supplies and promised to bring reinforcements, whatever that meant. With the little details out of the way, Lola chewed on her straw, mulling over what to make for the food critic without an oven or stove.

“Bet you wish you had bought gas instead of electric, huh?” she asked Braden, trying to lighten the mood.

Braden’s grin surprised her. “Lola, you’re a genius.” He picked her up and spun her around. As if he could make her any dizzier. She always wobbled around him.

“I know,” she agreed. She tilted her head. “But what did I say?”

“There are other ways to cook than the oven and stove.”

“I didn’t think the microwave worked either,” she said playing dumb, spinning her straw in her fingers.

He didn’t fall for it. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, I do, and I think it’s a great idea.” She flipped her straw around in front of his face. “Do we have enough to feed an entire restaurant full of people?”

As she’d predicted, he couldn’t stand her teasing and snapped up the straw from her hand. “What people? We can’t open the restaurant to the public.”

“You’re right. But we can host a private party, right? Portia’s calling our family and friends as seat warmers.”

“Is there something you haven’t told me?” As he stared down at her, it took everything she had to keep herself from kissing him to erase the stress lines from his forehead.

“No. Of course, if you don’t trust me—” She started to walk away and he caught her arm.

“I trust you,” he said softly. “Stay.”

“Well, it’s not as if I have anything better to do today,” she teased. “Besides, I’ve already put my plans in motion and it would be a shame not to watch it all fall into place.”

“Are you going to let
me
in on your plans?” he asked quietly, his breath warm on her lips.

She shook her head. “Nope.” Laughing, she put both her hands on his chest, delighted to hear his sharp intake of breath. “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll take care of everything.” She gave him a wink as they heard a man’s voice calling out from the dining room.

She took a deep breath and hoped she’d remember everything she’d studied this past month. “Looks like it’s show time.”

CHAPTER 20

Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe.

What is decreed must be, and be this so.

William Shakespeare,
Twelfth Night
, act 1, scene 5

She nailed it. The Internal Revenue Service auditor had arrived promptly at noon with questions to challenge even the most experienced business owner. Lola never blinked, just recited the applicable passages from the tax code and explained how it applied to the situation. The auditor, Norman, who was probably a year from retirement, was baffled by Lola’s ability to spit out the code word-for-word. She had a more difficult time on the practical when it came to showing how they kept their bookkeeping, but maintaining grace under pressure, she calmly focused her energy and took it step-by-step.

An hour after the auditor strolled through the front door, he departed, carrying with him a box of
baklava
which he’d admitted was his favorite dessert. Not only had Lola passed the audit with flying colors,
Acropolis
had found a new customer.

Lola stood at the front door, the sun’s rays shining on her like a spotlight. The smooth dress hugged the contours of her body and Braden had to clench his fists to keep from running his hands all over her. She looked every bit the goddess from his dreams, but better, because she was Lola—spunky, opinionated, passionate, and most importantly, real. He may have loved Euterpe in his past lives, but Lola was the woman he loved in this one. She might not be a goddess, but she would always rule his heart, even from clear across the country.

She twirled around then crossed to him. “That wasn’t bad. If the rest of the day goes as well, you’ll have a thirty-year lease by the end of the night.”

He rubbed his sternum with the side of his fist to relieve the sensation of a rubber band tightening around his chest. Even after discovering he’d lied to her, she was still going to give him the lease. “Thirty years, huh?”

She waved her hand. “Give or take.”

He grabbed his chance before she could pull away and tugged her closer. “I know you weren’t working with Jon.”

Their gazes locked and she inhaled shakily. “I’m glad.”

For a second, it was as if the other day hadn’t happened. That magnetic tether still yanked him to her. He pressed his thigh against hers, enjoying the smoothness of the dress fabric against his suit pants. The scent of lavender hit him hard, a hint she was as aroused as he was. She said she forgave him. Could he make her forget as well? She licked her lips and he bent his head to taste them.

Ruining the moment, Portia and Ryan burst through the front door, each carrying a couple of large brown paper bags.

Like teenagers caught by their parents, they jumped back from each other. Lola refused to make eye contact, choosing instead to look at the floor, the walls, her sister. Hell, anywhere but at him. He didn’t care. If his friends hadn’t walked in, he would’ve kissed her. And she gave every indication she would’ve kissed him back. They weren’t finished. Not by a long shot.

He took the bags from Portia and dropped them on the bar. She gave him a small hug then squeezed her sister with enough force to knock over a building. “Sorry it took so long, but the roads are slippery out there.”

Lola stepped out of the hug, appearing more confident now that her sister was there. Still not looking at him, she picked up a wrapped straw, ripped off the paper, and stuck it in her mouth. “It’s fine. I just passed the first audit. When is everyone else getting here?”

Portia pulled out her cell phone and set it on the bar. “I sent the text out an hour ago, so I’d expect them soon.”

Lola picked it up and read something to herself before looking up at her sister. “And the other text?”

Portia took the phone back for a moment, pressed a couple of buttons then handed the phone back. “That went out, too.”

He glanced at Ryan. “What text?”

Ryan threw his hands up. “Don’t look at me, man. Portia left me out of the loop on this one.”

“Why don’t Ryan and I light the candles on the tables and set up the portable heaters while you get things ready in the kitchen?”

Lola nodded and finally dragged her gaze to him. Flashlight in hand, he followed her into the kitchen where she picked up a knife from the counter. “Could you get the trays from the closet?”

As if he’d argue with a woman brandishing a knife.

In perfect harmony, they chopped the vegetables and worked together to prepare the dishes which would hopefully impress the food critic at least enough to pass the audit. The kitchen was so quiet, he heard the knife as it sunk through the juicy flesh of the tomato and the olive oil as it covered the cheese with its flavor.

The door swung open and Jenny walked in, audibly inhaling. “The food critic just got here. I sat him at table five. Are you ready?”

When had his staff arrived? He peeked at his watch. They’d been cutting, dicing, slicing, and mixing for two hours.

“We’re ready,” Lola answered. She hoisted a tray above her shoulders and carried it out with confidence.

He wasn’t prepared for the scene he encountered in the dining room as he followed. Every table was occupied by family and friends. His father and sister sat at one table with a woman Braden guessed was Patricia. Portia and Ryan sat at another with Reina and George. Ryan’s parents drank wine in a corner booth. Dozens of people from the Greek American community had rallied together and shown up to support Lola and Braden.

A young man around his age with wire-rimmed glasses sat alone in a booth, a glass of white wine and a laptop perched in front of him—the food critic from the newspaper. Braden intended to keep him so busy he’d forget to take notes.

Lola strolled to his table and set down the tray. “Hi. I’m Lola and this is Braden, the owner and manager. Welcome to
Acropolis,
where all your dreams come true.”

He huffed. “Frank Caruthers. My dreams usually include electricity. I don’t know how you expect to pass without it.”

Lola didn’t acknowledge the critic’s displeasure. “This afternoon, the dining room is filled with our family and friends.” She waved her arm out in a grand gesture. “I’m certain you’re familiar with the concept of small plates.”

“Of course.” Frank adjusted his glasses and eyed the platter of food in front of him. “I’ve reviewed a couple of them right here in the Metro-area.”

“Wonderful. And because you’re so knowledgeable about food, you surely have experienced a traditional Greek family gathering.”

He frowned and squirmed in his chair. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, now you can check that off your silver bucket list, because today, you are part of
our
family. As is traditional in Greece, family and friends share several
mezethes,
or small plates in a variety of flavors, textures, and sensations. These
mezethes
are paired with the right drink, which in this case, is
ouzo
, the Greek liquor.” She snapped her fingers and Stephan brought him a glass. “Each table will share the Greek bruschetta
Lathovrekto,
the chickpea dip
hommus,
a
yogurt dip
tzaziki,
tomato and cucumber salad, marinated octopus, and of course, the
saganaki
.”

Stationed at various spots around the dining room, Braden’s staff held their trays in the air, sparked their lighters, and simultaneously yelled, “
Opa!
” Fire shot up toward the ceiling then died down as the waiters and waitresses squeezed lemon juice over the flaming cheese.

Everyone clapped, including Frank. “Quite a display. Now let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks.”

Portia and Ryan came up to the table. “May we join you?”

Lola threw an arm around Portia. “As I explained, it’s traditional to share the food with family and friends. This is my sister, Portia, and her fiancé, Ryan, who is Braden’s best friend.”

The critic’s face scrunched as if he’d eaten a sour lemon. “I don’t usually . . . It’s unusual . . . oh, I don’t see why not,” he finally relented.

Greek music sounded throughout the room, and Ryan’s parents got up, moved to the floor in front of the stage, and began dancing. Soon, other couples joined them.

A cold breeze signaled the front door had opened, and Jon walked in as if he owned the place. He wore a long winter coat, but his legs were bare. What was he wearing?

Portia muttered something under her breath which sounded like “here we go,” but Braden couldn’t make it out.

“Jon, you came!” Lola’s face lit up and she flew into Jon’s waiting arms.

Braden wanted to tear her away from Jon and punch the guy in the face and toss him outside. But he remembered Lola’s request that he trust her, and even if it killed him, he’d prove to her that he did.

The two spoke in hushed tones. Her gaze wandered to Braden, then slowly moved to one of their waiters, a guy named Marcus. When her eyes narrowed on the server, Braden realized she’d uncovered their mole.

Jon handed Lola his jacket, unveiling his ridiculous costume underneath. The man wore a toga, complete with a golden sash at his waist.

“Excuse me,” the food critic said, staring at Jon. “Who is that man? Is he part of the entertainment?”

Before Braden could explain, Portia jumped in with an answer. “Oh, no. He chose to dress that way. That’s the owner of Grecian Taverna. Maybe he thinks it’s appropriate, but no one in Greece would wear a toga unless they were going to a costume party.”

Lola whispered in Jon’s ear then left him with his tongue hanging out as she headed to the kitchen. Braden sure hoped she knew what she was doing.

Walking toward the stage, Jon sneered at Braden. He picked up an empty plate in each hand and started to dance. Jon threw the plates on the ground, smashing them into tiny pieces. The music stopped and everyone in the restaurant stared.

Jon smiled triumphantly at Braden and stalked off into the kitchen. Braden wanted to follow him, but he’d let the plan unfold. He had no doubt Lola would steer him in the right direction.

“I’m terribly sorry for that odd interruption. Stephan will refill your
ouzo
while I clean up the mess.” Braden motioned to his bartender to bring the critic more liquor.

The front door opened once again. Judging by the clipboard in the woman’s hands, Braden wagered it was the county health inspector.

He strolled to meet her just inside the door. “Can I help you?”

“Nora Theodore. I’m with the health inspector’s office. Would you mind telling me why you don’t have the lights on in here?”

“We lost our electricity this morning.”

Her brows furrowed together to become a unibrow. “And you’re open? I’m afraid that’s—”

He gestured to the entrance. “As you probably saw when you came in, we placed a sign on the door that we’re closed for a private party. Everyone in here is a friend or family member, with the exception of the food critic from the paper. We’re serving foods which don’t require cooking and can be served at room temperature. I assure you, this was an emergency situation.”

“Still, I don’t see how I can audit you without electricity. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to reschedule.” She pivoted on her worn winter boots.

He caught her by the sleeve. “But we can’t. I mean, you understand this was a condition of a Will. You are welcome to come back and audit again whenever you want, but we still need you to test Ms. Dubrovsky today. Please.”

She sighed and turned back to him. “Where is Ms. Dubrovsky?”

Lola sidled up and saluted. “Right here, Your Honor.”

The inspector didn’t crack a smile. “I’m not a judge. You can call me Nora.”

Lola dipped her hand into her cleavage and pulled out her phone. “I have something for you to hear.” She fiddled with the cell until it made a crackling noise.

Jon’s voice came through loud and clear. “I had Marcus cut the power line to the building. He used to work for the electric company so he knew exactly how to keep
Acropolis
from getting their power fixed in time for the inspections. Did I do good or what?”

“How long have you had Marcus working for you and feeding you information about
Acropolis
?” Lola asked on the recording.

Braden looked at her, but she kept her gaze on Nora.

“For the last year,” Jon revealed. “He finally came through for me when that waitress took off her clothes. I called the cops and Marcus took the video of it on his phone. I told Braden I’d release it to the liquor licensing commission unless he closes up
Acropolis
and stays out of the Greek restaurant business.”

“You know Braden’s not running a strip club here.”

Jon laughed. “I know. But the video would be enough to convince the city to shut him down for good. If he doesn’t agree to my offer, I’ll hand it over to the city officials.”

“Wow. This was all your idea?” Lola asked, sounding convincingly impressed.

“Of course. I’m a smart business man. You should know that by now.”

“I do. And now everyone in here today sees it too. I’m sure the authenticity of your costume and your dance really impressed them. Now they’ll all come to eat at your restaurant.”

Lola clicked off the recording and slid a glance at him. Braden should’ve never doubted her.

Nora frowned. “Where is this man now?”

Lola shrugged. “Locked in a storage closet. I’ll let him go when it’s all over. And even if he got out, he won’t get very far.” She smiled. “I stole his toga.”

Nora adjusted her glasses. “In light of the circumstances, I’ll just give you an oral exam today.”

Lola looked at Braden and raised a brow. “My favorite kind.”

He would’ve laughed, but he didn’t want to explain it to the no nonsense inspector.

George walked past them to greet a tall, older gentleman at the door. Braden hadn’t noticed him enter, but he assumed it was the music producer. As the men shook hands, Lola started turning red and hyperventilating.

Braden gave Lola’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I’ll talk to Rand while you finish with Nora.”

“But I’m not ready,” she sputtered, clenching her fists into his shirt. “I’m going to have to play acoustic, and I haven’t decided which songs to sing—”