He flushed, and the dark red across his chiseled cheekbones only made him more striking. When they first met, she’d wondered what he’d seen in her. After all, he was so very handsome, a man who could be…

Could be a star among male models.

Oh. She stared at him as the future she’d imagined with him shattered.

Mama had signed him on with the agency last month, saying he was family now and deserved to have a chance. Now he would walk the runway in the upcoming fashion show. He was already receiving tons of exposure.

Her lips felt numb. “You got what you wanted from me—a contract with Bocelli Agency—and now you’re dumping me.”

“Jesus, don’t get all butt-hurt. We had our fun. Now, it’s time to call it quits.” And he walked away. Out the door. Out of their marriage.

As a woman’s piercing laugh came from a table near the bar, Frankie shook her head, trying to escape the memories. Cavolo, that ugly scene in the parking lot brought everything back, as if it’d been yesterday when Jax sliced her to pieces with his words and indifference.

Just like the bartender had done with his lover.

Frankie had hoped he was a tourist. Someone she’d never have to see again. Instead, he worked here in the bar. Did that suck or what?

Taking orders for drinks, she whispered insults between tables. “Brutto pezzo di merda, bastardo”.

The bastard was definitely a piece of shit.

“Vai a farti fottere.”

Yes, he should go f-bomb himself.

She could see why his poor lover had fallen for him, because the guy was very much sex-on-a-stick. Start with that resonant, cavernous voice. Add in appearance: massive and hugely muscled. His skin was just slightly darker than her Italian heritage had given her. His mesmerizing black eyes, shaved scalp, and black goatee with a sprinkling of silver reinforced he was all man.

No one viewing him would realize he was such a jerk. Yet, five minutes after emotionally gutting a woman who loved him, he was flirting with every woman at the bar. It was typical behavior for shallow, heartless chick magnets like her ex.

Over at the other section of the bar, Felix caught her gaze. “Doing good, Frankie.”

She smiled back. The effervescent waiter was such a darling. He’d helped orient her to her job earlier.

After working for a bit, she noticed drink orders were getting filled faster. The new bartender was very efficient. And, even if she hated to admit it, his arrival had changed the mood in the place. Everyone seemed friendlier. Happier.

As she walked up to the waitstaff station, two people slid onto empty stools—a curvy blonde woman and a black-haired man who reminded her of a stunning, young Antonio Banderas.

“Good evening,” she greeted them.