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"Oh, the salmon sounds wonderful. Glazed vegetables, roasted potatoes, and covered in a special sauce. Sold.” Alice placed her menu down.

“These are all Red-Hearted Queen wines,” Hugo said. His eyebrows furled with frustration.

“So, we skip the wine,” Alice said.

“But I was looking forward to it.” Hugo slapped the menu down. “Yet again, more surprises.”

Alice tilted her head at him inquisitively with narrow eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I want this to be a perfect night because I want to—” He paused, catching himself from revealing his secret. “I want to properly celebrate your release and a successful first week.”

Alice smiled and blushed. She stretched across the table and took his hand. “It doesn’t matter what we eat or drink. All that matters is that we’re celebrating this together. That’s all I really want.”

“I guess you’re right,” Hugo said. “We’ll have to toast to your success.”

“Oursuccess,” Alice said. “This didn’t happen without you. Remember that.”

Hugo gazed into Alice’s emerald green eyes.

“Two glasses of water,” a man’s voice said as he placed the glasses on the table.

Alice gulped as she examined the stranger standing next to them. Hugo broke his gaze from Alice to examine this mysterious man.

He was tall with black, wavy hair, parted long on top and tapered short on the sides. High cheekbones, a wide jaw, and a sharp jawline. His rough, stubbled beard masked his sunken face, as if he hadn’t shaved for a few days.

He wore a black vest over a matching black dress shirt and red tie. His shirt was tailored fit and tight against his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Rolled-up sleeves to his elbow revealed a tattoo on his forearm—a red heart emerging from a crimson rose with a serpentine stem.

“Welcome to Sylvia’s Bistro. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sebastian Savino. I’m the new owner of this establishment,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “I understand you have some questions about Mr. Moretti?”

Alice cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. Moretti was a friend of ours. He never mentioned selling his beloved restaurant.”

Sebastian smirked. “Ah, yes, Antonio. I’m new to town and wanted to open a restaurant of my own. I decided it would be easier to acquire this location instead of starting fresh, so I made an offer too good not to accept. He mentioned it would be nice to return to Italy. I learned all about his world-famous meatballs. I wanted to buy the recipe, but he refused. I guess I can’t buy everything.” He chuckled.

Hugo’s eyes narrowed, studying Sebastian’s reaction. “How did you get up and running so fast?”

“My methods are . . . efficient,” Sebastian said, gazing directly into Hugo’s eyes.

Hugo and Alice shared a glance.

“How efficient?” Alice asked as they both turned backto Sebastian.

Sebastian laughed. “This isn’t my first establishment. I have multiple locations. I was able to make a few calls. I had my crew come in to redecorate quickly. I even brought in staff from other locations. As I said . . . efficient.”

“You said you’re new in town. It wouldn’t be on Ravenhill Drive, would it?” Hugo asked.

“Why, yes. My wife, Sylvia, and I moved into a lovely house next to a very . . . eccentric one. It’s a purple house.”

“That’s our purple house,” Alice said.

He pressed his hands against his chest. “Oh, please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken. I’ve heard worse,” Alice replied.

“Ah, good. I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with our neighbors,” Sebastian said with a hint of glee. “Since this is your first time here at Sylvia’s and we’re neighbors, your meal will be on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that on our account,” Hugo said.

“No worries at all,” Sebastian said. “It’s my way of thanking you for visiting.”