Christmas with the Beast (The Fiore Family Book 1)

by C. M. Steele

  My hand grips tightly to the chair as the other runs up and down my shaft, pressure building as I imagine her smiling as she pulls off, mischievous, daring before running her tongue over my heated flesh and then taking me back into her mouth, sucking hard. I grip her hair and tell her that she’ll always be mine, and she moans a yes around my thickness. I shoot off, coming all over my hand, spent and pleased.

  It’s the first time since the accident that I’ve beat off, and I know it won’t be the last. It’s all I’ll ever get from her, so I greedily take it. This look into Fiore’s restaurant won’t be temporary as I switch to the present time. There she is, just getting her day started, and my dick jolts back to life again.

  Chapter Four

  Isabelle

  “Hey, I need you to make a large serving of Tagliatelle for me. I’m driving up to my brother’s estate to check in on him, and I’m sure he’d love to have it.”

  “I’m already on it. It’s like clockwork.” Every month for the year and a half, I’ve been making Tagliatelle al Ragù alla Bolognese for Fabio to take to Franco and my heart does flips, knowing that Fabio always comes to get more. It’s been almost two years since the accident that nearly killed Franco, and I haven’t gotten him out of my head.

  “Thank you. He’s turned into a really grumpy asshole, but this is a peace offering I bring.”

  “Hey, if it works. Is he getting better?”

  “Physically? Yes. Emotionally, no. He’s always been a bit of a dick—even more than me—but now it’s gotten a bit out of hand. He has only four people that work inside his home, and only a few that are allowed to visit.”

  “Perhaps in time.”

  “Yeah. He’s learned to walk, but his strength just isn’t there yet.”

  “I wish him all the best.”

  “Thanks, Isabelle. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’d go out of business, obviously, or be mauled by the beast up in his castle.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  My eyes dart up to the cameras, something I do on the regular, but especially on nights I make Franco his dinner. It’s silly, but I imagine he’s hiding away watching me, getting aroused by my gentle movements. Every night I leave and spend my time with my fingers between my legs, allowing the built-up lust to pour out with his name on my lips. It doesn’t ever change because I long for this man more than anything. Everyone tries to get me to go out, and even my sister attempts to make me forget about Franco, but I can’t.

  I’ve finished his meal when pain shoots through my arm and then I lose control of the pot I’m holding, nearly spilling it all. A little splash lands on my hand. “Ouch. Shit.” I can’t put it off anymore. I’ve cleaned up the mess and then the kitchen door flies open. I’m about to yell at whoever was acting so carelessly when I see my boss.

  “Damn it, are you okay?” Fabio asks, rushing into the kitchen with worry on his face. He’s wining and dining a couple of clients out there and it’s a big night for the restaurant, so I’ve been working too hard without resting.

  “Yeah, my shoulder is killing me.” It’s been almost two years since I first complained about the nagging ache. And of course I never went to the doctor, hiding it from Anabelle, and thankfully she was too busy dealing with my other crazy behavior to notice I never followed through. Today, it’s gotten a lot worse.

  “Get to the doctor. ER, right now,” he barks out. “Andre, take over for Isabelle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll drive there,” I grunt out.

  “No, you won’t. It’s going to storm again. I’ll drive you,” Fabio commands, leading me out of the kitchen through the back way as he calls out for the hostess to handle everything until he returns.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I explain.

  “Enough. You nearly scalded yourself.”

  “How did you know?”

  He points upward. “The security cameras.” The damn cameras. The ones I feel watching me every single day and for some reason, as shy as I am, I want to perform for them. Cooking, prepping, staging with elegance and panache as if Franco’s watching. Pathetic, I know, but it doesn’t stop me.

  “Oh. Spying on me? What do you think I’m doing back here?” I argue, hating that he’s watching them even though he’s the one who had them installed and I’ve known about them since I started working at Fiore’s.

  “Nothing bad. It’s for safety purposes.” There’s something in his tone that I don’t believe. “OSHA will get on my ass if something happens to any of you. Can you buckle yourself?” I struggle, so he does it for me as his phone rings.

  “Not now. Okay. Yes. Of course.” I don’t know who he’s talking to, but I could swear that I heard Franco. It’s more than possible that it’s my aching heart wanting to hear more about him.

  “Sorry. My brother’s an asshole. He wants his meal, but I think he needs to take a break while you recuperate.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Stop saying that shit. It’s crystal clear you’re not.”

  Three hours later, he’s right. I need surgery and he’s taken charge, demanding I have the best surgeon available today. I call my sister and let her know that my boss is an asshole, and she laughs because she agrees with him. They haven’t met yet, but Fabio mentioned needing to update his menus and website, so maybe I’ll toss her business out there soon.

  “Thank you for bringing me, Fabio.”

  “I wish I’d known sooner.” He scowls, but he’s so nice it softens instantly. His anger isn’t with me; it’s with himself for not noticing sooner.

  Chapter Five

  Franco

  I’m grumbling and snarling at my monitor. It’s been six weeks since Isabelle has been to work. My days of watching my obsession have ended for the time being. That also means no hot dishes made by her delicate hands. Still, I’m pissed that I didn’t notice sooner that she’d been in pain. Granted, Isabelle hid it well because I watched her like a madman.

  I didn’t care that I’d just given myself up to my brother about the damn cameras. Having given up on ever having a real life with Isabelle, I hacked into my brother’s cameras and stared with fascination as she worked. For a whole wonderfully anguish-filled year and a half, I stole time with my woman, even if she was unaware of it. The days she made my dinner—those were special, like she made them just for me.

  She’ll be coming back tomorrow and I can’t wait, but I still feel that she should be resting in bed with me. That fantasy will never come true, but my mind replays my dreams in the daytime, taking me away from the pain and agony my body goes through.

  My gate buzzer goes off and I can venture a guess who it is, although I’m sure he doesn’t have a dish I want to eat. The last time he tried to bring me a meal from his other chef, I nearly chucked that shit at him. Instead, I tossed it in the trash. I don’t want to have a meal from his restaurant unless it comes from my beloved obsession. It’s like a massive betrayal to her if I do. Fabio laughs because I have a daily chef, but it’s different and he can’t even understand because his heart hasn’t been given to a woman he can’t have.

  Once he comes into the house, I snarl out my annoyance. “What do you want?”

  “Is that the love I get? Seriously, I don’t know why I come here anymore.” He slaps a hand to his chest in mock disappointment, but I know damn well he’d still come back, and thankfully so.

  “I don’t know either.”

  I don’t mean to be a prick, but just thinking about Isabelle and not having the balls to let her see the real me infuriates my soul. I should have been the one to care for her. Instead, I had to leave that up to my brother. “You realize Christmas is around the corner. Do you plan on being an asshole when we come over?”

  “Probably, but I promised to be good for Mama’s sake.” Besides, she’ll give me hell if I don’t behave.

  “Good. She’s so damned worried about your crazy ass.” I know, and it’s damned hard to recon
cile the pain and anger that lives within me from the helicopter crash.

  “Whatever.”

  “Sorry—I can’t go into her apartment and set up cameras in her kitchen and bathroom, but she’ll be back soon.” He learned of it when I called him that night. I’d watched her lose control of the damn pot, nearly sending pasta and boiling-hot water crashing to the ground. Luckily she’d gotten it under control just in time to avoid a major burn.

  “What’s up, Franco? I’m at a business meeting,” he snarled, stepping away from the table he was at.

  “Isabelle’s hurt in the kitchen,” I snarled right back, aggravated as hell that he didn’t hear the chaos and my woman suffering.

  “What? How do you know she’s hurt?”

  “I’ve been watching. She needs a doctor. Get her there now, or I’ll never forgive you.” I didn’t leave him alone until he called me with her diagnosis. Then he came to see me, asking a million questions. The biggest being—

  “Why are you hiding from her?” It’s the question he asks me every single time, and I give him the same answer.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” I bark out at my little brother, thrusting my hands through my neat, slightly longer-than-I’d-prefer hair, but I have a scar that is covered by the length right now. My heart’s racing out of control so painfully that I have to sit down before I give myself a heart attack. At thirty-one, I shouldn’t have chest pains, but the damn accident left me with heart problems, and Isabelle owns my heart.

  From the first moment she stepped out of the kitchen, I saw forever with her. She mesmerized me to the point of madness. I nearly turned around and flipped her over my shoulder, taking her with me, but reality and common sense set in. I thought that I had time to woo her, so I left that night with a promise to return, but that wasn’t to be.

  My brother takes a seat next to me in my office chairs. “No. You’re the one who’s lost it. You’ve been in love with her for almost two fucking years. Had I known, I would have brought her up here years ago.” He shakes his head and takes a drink of his coffee like I’m fucking stupid, but he doesn’t have to worry. He’s still a handsome bastard, while I look like shit.

  He’s right. The first moment I saw Isabelle, I’d lost my heart. The accident nearly killed me, but thinking of her kept me alive. I’d hoped that my scarring wouldn’t be too hideous, but I was wrong. She’d never want me the way I looked. My brother is right.

  The scars have faded, but the ones on my soul haven’t healed. I tracked down and sought my revenge on everyone involved before slinking to my home to never see the outside world again. The crash had been a plot to dispose of Mr. Morimoto by one of his children, and he did not care who he killed with his father. He’s felt the wrath of the three families that have lost someone, and my uncle on my father’s side felt the need to exact his own retribution because my sweet cousin could have been on board. Now, I hide away like a freakish beast, sore paw and all. I’m grateful my assistant is my cousin and tolerates my shit.

  “Why are you shouting down the place?” Mia says, strolling into my office without knocking. Luckily, I’d left her behind for the trip. Barely clinging to life, I was the only one who was able to crawl away from the crash before the helicopter exploded.

  “He’s upset because he refuses to make a move on my chef,” Fabio says, nodding at Mia.

  “You’re a bad boy, Fabio, teasing Franco like that. I love it. I can’t wait to see this. Do you think he’ll pounce over the table if he finally builds up the nerve? Or maybe he’ll sneak into the kitchen and maul her there.”

  “Hey—you work for me, remember?” I snarl, pointing my finger at my cousin and wanting to act irritated, but the truth is—the thought has merit. Blood rushes straight to my cock, aching so painfully at the idea of slamming my mouth on hers and kissing her wildly as I dominate every inch of her, running my hands over her body and marking her as mine. Hell, that memory of her kiss lingers on my lips the second I close my eyes.

  “Yes. And if you give Isabelle the ‘D,’ it might make you a little less dickish.” I glare at her, but she doesn’t even bother with my bad moods anymore. She knows I’m all bark and no fucking bite when it comes to her. I’d have others on the chopping block after one cross word from them.

  I thrust my fingers through my hair for what feels like the hundredth time today and then run them down my scarred face. I flex my hands before hanging my head in defeat. “Uh, you two, Isabelle would take one look at me and run. Fuck, spending a life without her is bad enough. Her rejection would make me wish I didn’t survive. So I’ll fucking pass, thank you very much.”

  “She’d be a fool to reject you for your looks. Your attitude is a little surly, though, so you might want to work on that a bit.”

  “I’m a fucking monster, Fabio. She deserves better.” My dogs start barking and come running into the room as if they sense my overwhelming sadness. They’re great at being there for me at the most opportune moments. I pet their heads as they press them to my thighs and look up at me with those pleading eyes.

  “Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I avoid the mirror like the plague, having removed most of them from my home like a ghoulish beast. “A lot of your scars are healing. Most of them are hardly visible with all the scruff you got going on. You walk for longer periods of time without a cane. You’re still a sexy bastard,” Mia says, coming around to the back of my chair and rubbing my shoulder.

  “My body’s fucked up too. I have scars over half my body.” I continue my pity party, standing and walking around the room to remind them that I’m not normal at all. My dogs follow me around as I move, never getting under my feet.

  Fabio sighs and nods. “You have a point. You know what? You should just forget about Isabelle. I’ll keep her in the kitchen the entire time, and she won’t have to deal with you at all and then you’ll be happy.”

  “You better not,” I roar, teeth gnashing, ready to slam his head against the wall.

  “Hey, you’re a picky bastard. Do you want her or not? Several guys are itching to ask her out at work just for her cooking alone. Never mind that she’s beautiful.” Every word out of his mouth pulls on my jealousy, and I lose control.

  Snarling like the beast I am, I grip him by his collar and nearly slam him against the wall.

  “Chill out. I’m not interested in Isabelle. Hello—I could have asked her out any time in the four years that she’s worked for me.”

  I release him and step back. “Sorry.”

  “No. It’s cool, bro. I know you’re suffering, and I took it too far. Still, I’m telling you to go for it, even if you look like a haggard beast. When’s the last time you got a haircut?”

  “Three months ago. Mama sent over Father’s barber.”

  “I think it’s sexy, like just enough hair to sweep back but not enough to put in those ugly man buns.”

  “Thanks, I’d hate to make a fashion faux pas.” I shake my head and give her a slight eye roll.

  “That’s why you have me.” My cousin smiles, tilting her head and ignoring my grumpy attitude as always.

  “I’m surprised you’re still not off the market, Mia.”

  “Aw. Thank you. See? You need to just charm Isabelle out of her knickers and then lay down the pipe,” Mia says with a nod and a wink.

  “Who have you been hanging around?” Fabio asks her. I think it’s too many movies lately, since she doesn’t go anywhere and often spends her weekdays here or at her parents.

  “Whatever. How about you worry about impressing that pretty chef and not about my life?”

  “Maybe one day.” It’s a lie I tell myself all the time. Maybe one day I’ll stroll into Fiore’s kitchen and pull her into my arms and beg her to be mine.

  “Fine. So what about Christmas? Mom’s going to want it to look like Christmas here.” He’s right. She’s becoming more and more determined to get me out of my funk. Financially I’ve never been better; being a recluse gives me more time to work
on numbers and options for deals to be made. It’s the emotional side that has everyone worried, and they’re not wrong. I’m fucked up in the head and the heart.

  “Okay. Can you have a company come and do all the decorating?”

  “Yes, but we’ll keep it classy. Everyone will come over Christmas Eve and have dinner and then be out of your hair by Boxing Day.”

  “Sounds great to me. Are your parents coming?” I ask Mia.

  “You know it. They’re coming on the twenty-fourth after they pick up Soren from the airport.”

  “Great. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have to hit the pool.” Every day with the help of my guards and personal trainer, I work out in the pool. It’s only an hour, but my trainer leaves tomorrow for the holidays coming up.

  Scooping up my cane, I walk down to the pool area to meet my physical trainer and change into my swim trunks.

  “You’re looking a little fatigued. Are you sure you’d like to work out today?” Luis asks. He’s been with me the past two years and can tell when something is bothering me, but today it’s nothing but my heart aching for Isabelle.

  “Yes, Luis. Come on. I need to build all the strength I can get.” If Mia isn’t shitting me, maybe I’ll finally build up the nerve to let Isabelle see me and decide if she could ever give me a chance.

  “Luis, do you think I’m surly?”

  “Like grouchy?” I nod. “Yes, but that’s to be expected. What you need is a woman to make it all better, even if it’s not the forever woman.” He tilts his head and rocks his hips. “Just to blow off a little steam.”

  “No. There’s no one else but her.”

  “Then I’d figure out a way to get her. You’re rich enough, so kidnapping would be the way I’d go.” He winks at me before jumping in the pool.