by Harley Stone
“I want to get to know you, Annetta. How does your father feel about you working in the restaurant?”
I tugged my hands out from under his, instantly missing the contact. I needed something else to keep them busy, so I pulled my drink closer and played with the straw. “We’re still arguing about it. He wants me to go back to school, but it’s so dang expensive and we already owe enough. Besides, I enjoy being in the kitchen. Mom taught me how to cook and when I’m doing it, I feel like she’s not really gone, you know? Like part of her still lives through what she taught me.”
He nodded. “I get it.”
Still, I felt lame. “Why am I doing all the talking? What about you? What’s your family like?”
His pager went off. He excused himself and used the bar phone while I fished fruit out of my drink, hoping he wouldn’t catch me dripping alcohol all over the table, but unable to resist the rum-soaked pineapple.
When Dominico returned, he seemed upset and distracted. “Work calls. Come on, I need to get you home.” He tugged a few bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table before leading me out the back door.
Once we were in the car, he thanked me for coming out with him and claimed he had a good time.
I did too, even though our night had been cut short. “You must not get out much,” I replied. “I did nothing but talk about myself, and I’m pretty boring.”
“Not at all. I work a lot and the people I usually hang out with are… different. Trust me, this was nice.” He pulled out of the parking lot and then grabbed my hand. Warmth crept up my arm.
The drive to my house was quiet as I wondered what this was between us and where it was going. Were we dating? Good friends? When had he transitioned from the mysterious security guy I never saw at work to taking me out to a drink and holding my hand? I was no closer to answers when he walked me to my door and said a hurried goodbye before jogging back to his car. I waved goodbye and stepped into the house, strangely disappointed that he hadn’t kissed me.
***
The rest of the week passed in a blur. Dominico picked me up and dropped me off after every shift. He was always polite—holding doors and making sure I got in okay—but something had changed between us. He didn’t really look at me, didn’t invite me out for another drink, and he seemed to go out of his way to avoid touching me. With each passing day he seemed more distracted and worried. I still hadn’t seen him around the restaurant during my shift, so I had no clue what his duties included, but they were clearly weighing on him. By the time he picked me up for my closing shift Friday afternoon, he looked strung out.
“You okay?” I asked as he walked me to his car.
“Yeah.” He raked a hand though his dark hair, looking up and down the street. Vigilant security guard, constantly watching for threats. “I just got a lot going on right now.”
As we drew closer to the engagement dinner, everyone at the restaurant was on edge. Despite the many times I’d asked, nobody would give away the names of the couple who’d rented out the entire restaurant for a night. The last time I asked, Frank glared at me and Brandon pulled me aside and suggested I let it go. Which, of course, only made me want to know more. I’d gone so far as reading gossip magazines to see if I could figure out which couple the restaurant could be hosting. Maybe a movie star or a local celebrity? And why was everyone being so tight-lipped about it?
Dominico was security. Not only security, but probably some sort of management to be in on the interviews. He’d have to know who was coming. I climbed into his Porshe and buckled my seatbelt.
“Must be some high-profile couple to have everyone so worked up about their engagement dinner,” I said, fishing for information as Dominico settled himself behind the wheel.
He frowned and started his car.
He wasn’t going to answer me either. Frustrated, I said, “Oh come on, just tell me who it is already.”
He still didn’t answer.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll guess. Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown? I read that they’re gonna tie the knot this year, and it would be so cool to cook for their party.”
“It’s not Whitney and Bobbie.” His frown deepened. “Nobody that well-known. In fact, it’s not nearly as big of a deal as everyone’s making it out to be. You’ve never heard of the couple. If I told you who they were, you’d be disappointed.”
Doubtful with all the hoopla going on. He had to be trying to pacify me. “Oh come on, give me a hint. Is it… a senator or something?”
“Nope.”
“Then why all the secrecy?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The family of the bride has… enemies. They asked us to keep a lid on the party.”
“Enemies?” I let the word sit between us for a moment, wondering what sort of family would have enemies. It had to be a politician, which was disappointing. A singer or an actor would have been much more exciting. Still, enemies… “Will we be in danger?”
“No.” Dominico released the gear shift to squeeze my hand. It was the first time he’d touched me since the night we went out for drinks, and my stupid stomach fluttered at the contact. He looked at me, and something in his eyes softened. “Mike and I are very good at what we do. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
I blinked, and his gaze drifted back to the road. He withdrew his hand to shift again, and I immediately missed his touch. He left his free hand on the gearshift and did not reach for me again. He’d been so distant lately. I opened my mouth to ask him why, and then snapped it shut. We’d gone out for a drink, but Dominico must have friend-zoned me. No biggie. We’d only known each other for a short time. Not like I’d fallen for the guy or anything. So why did my chest feel so tight? Confused and hurt, I stared out the window for the rest of the drive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Annetta
“THERE IS NOTHING to tell,” I said for the umpteenth time, rolling my eyes.
Adona Micheli, my best friend since first grade who was finally home from her family vacation, sat cross-legged on my bed, bugging me for details about my non-existent relationship with Dominico, while I got ready for work.
“There is something,” she insisted. “You said he took you out for drinks… and then nothing? Come on! No good night kiss? No promise to see you again? Nothing?”
“I told you, it was friendly. We’d both had a rough day, and he took me out for a drink as a nice gesture. I’ve seen him since. He’s still picking me up and dropping me off every day.”
Her eyebrows crept up her forehead. “But you’re saying he’s not interested in you?”
After last night I was certain of it, unfortunately. “Not in the least.” I plugged my curling iron into the socket and set it on top of my dresser. Adona’s family was wealthy. She got to sit at a cute and functional well-lit vanity when she applied her makeup. I had a ratty old dresser with a mirror attached. I squinted and wished for better lighting as I brushed my lashes with mascara.
“I doubt it.” She pulled a small round packet out of her purse and set it on my dresser. “And you need to start taking these pills just in case.”
My best friend had been trying to give me birth control since we were sixteen. I’d never needed them before, and I was reasonably sure I still didn’t. Done with makeup and on to hair, I squirted a palm-sized amount of mousse into my hand and turned to frown at her. “I said nothing’s going on, Adona. Are you calling me a liar?”
“Nope. I’m calling you clueless.”
“I’m not clueless,” I argued, drenching my curls in foam, trying to control them.
“Yes you are. Case in point: Kyle Morris was crushing all over you throughout our entire senior year, and you had no idea.”
“Kyle Morris took Savannah Thompson to prom. If he liked me half as much as you swear he did, why didn’t he ask me?”
Adona threw her head back dramatically. “Because he asked you to go to lunch and you said no.”
“I brought lunch that day. Why would I go out and
spend money?” I asked. We’d had this argument more than a dozen times, and I still couldn’t see why one lunch would determine whether or not a guy asked me to a dance.
“And that’s what I’m talking about.” She shook her head. “Clueless.”
Clearly, I still didn’t get it. “Okay, fine,” I conceded. “So how do I know if Dominico likes me?” My chest squeezed at the thought. Stupid emotions. I stuffed them down deep and frowned at my reflection in the mirror.
“Easy. I’m sticking around until he picks you up,” she said, drifting to my bedroom window which faced the street. “I’ll watch you two interact and let you know. Now… what do you think he’s like in bed?”
She could be so ridiculous sometimes. Here I was, trying to get ready for the night my boss had been freaking out about since he hired me—the night of the super important party—and my best friend wanted me to fantasize about going at it with a guy who’d taken me out for a drink and basically ignored me since. Not like I hadn’t imagined kissing his sexy lips and running my hands down his firm body, but sex? My cheeks warmed just thinking about it.
“He’s just being nice. That’s it.”
She sighed. “I wish you’d embellish a little. You know my love life is DOA, and I’m trying to live vicariously through you. Give me something.”
“Dead on arrival?” I asked. “What happened to Danny?”
Adona went through two things faster than anyone I’d ever known: shoes (currently adorning her feet were the new stars and stripes Keds) and guys (her latest conquest being a football player from UNLV named Danny).
“Oh he was pretty,” she sighed. “But I got tired of having to compete with the mirror for his attention.”
I giggled. “You’re awful.”
“I’m serious! You’ve never tried to have a conversation with him. If there’s a reflective surface nearby, forget about it. He’s checking his hair and his teeth and not paying attention to anything I say. Why can’t I find a rich hottie who dotes on me like a queen? Then I can drop college and parade around in my bikini twenty-four-seven, providing him with eye candy like my stepmom does for my dad. Is that too much to ask? Speaking of which… hello, hot stuff. Please tell me this hunk in a three-piece-suit is not your boy toy.”
I looked over her shoulder to see a dark-haired guy getting out of a blue BMW. Too short to be Dominico, but I recognized him immediately. “Nope. That’s Mario. He was one of the guys who interviewed me, but I haven’t seen him since. Wonder why he’s here.”
“Who cares?” Adona headed for the mirror above my dresser, pulling her sweater off her shoulder and wiping away makeup smudges under her eyes. “More importantly, is he single?”
My doorbell rang and Adona and I hurried to answer it. She beat me to the handle and flung it open before leaning against the door frame.
“Hello,” she said, her voice breathy from sprinting.
“Hi.” His brow furrowed, and his gaze went over her shoulder to find me. “Hey, Annetta. Dom’s busy with the party and couldn’t get away to pick you up this morning, so he asked me to.”
Adona’s gaze pleaded with me to make introductions, so I did. Mario shook her hand, and the smile she gave him was suggestive and a little frightening. Based on his amused smirk, I don’t think he minded, though. Where Dominico was dark and mysterious, Mario had a cute and charming Peter Pan look about him.
“Very nice to meet you,” Adona said. Then to me she added, “And make sure you take those damn pills.”
She slipped Mario a piece of paper that I’m pretty sure had her phone number on it before he and I climbed into his Bimmer and motored off.
“Sorry about that,” I said.
He chuckled. “No problem. She seems… fun.”
Worried he’d say something like crazy or horny, I was relieved he’d settled on fun, and nodded in agreement. “Yep. Never a dull moment around that one.”
His grin only widened. “I could work with that.”
Thankfully Mario didn’t expand on how, but I had a sneaking suspicion he’d be giving Adona a call. We spent the rest of the drive chatting about the restaurant, and by the time he parked I felt like I’d made a new friend. I thanked him for the ride and slipped in through the back entrance.
The flurry of kitchen activity tensed my shoulders immediately. Determined to stay cool and collected, I rolled them back, washed up, and headed to my station. Three dishes were on the menu for the dinner, one of which was the Linguine di Mare I’d made during my interview. I’d be taking point on that dish, so I got to work prepping it for the approximate number of guests Collin and I had estimated would order it.
After my prep work was done, I helped one of the other chefs. I didn’t even get a break before the orders started rolling in, and the next several hours were spent boiling, sautéing, and chopping. My first break didn’t come until well after we’d served dessert, and by then my bladder was about to burst. Since the employee restroom was occupied, I removed my apron and cap and headed for the customer bathroom.
Piano music played in the main room. I glanced inside long enough to confirm that the plates had been cleared away and several of the tables were pushed to the side to open up the dance floor. Men wore tuxes and the women sported fashionable gowns, each no doubt costing more than I made in a year. A lovely pink gown worn by a girl who I’d guess to be still in high school caught my eye. Plain-faced, with brown hair styled up on top of her head in a complicated-looking braid and heavy makeup, she looked like a little girl playing dress up.
She caught my eye because I recognized the smartly dressed, handsome man she was on the arm of.
Dominico returned her smile and patted her arm as he bent to say something.
He had a girl.
Wonder what that little wannabe tramp would think about him taking me out for a drink and holding my hand?
Ugly thoughts about something that was none of my business. Disgusted with myself and desperate to flee the scene, I tore my gaze away from them and hurried to the bathroom on autopilot. I’d known he was a player from day one and I was foolish to think he’d turn out being different, so why did my eyes burn and my chest hurt? I shoved through the doors and found an empty stall. There I leaned against the wall and tried to figure out why my heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and stomped on.
I was a reasonable person, and nothing about what I felt now was reasonable. It had to be Adona’s fault for putting those ridiculous fantasies about Dominico in my head. I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths and tried to let the ridiculous notion of me and Dominico being more than friends go. I clearly felt more for him than a friend should, so I needed to stop accepting rides. It wasn’t fair to his girlfriend, after all.
And what did he see in that girl anyway? She was way too young for him. What sort of creep was he? And my god, her makeup! The trampy little bitch!
What is wrong with me?
I shook my head, appalled at my thoughts. Dominico had lied to me. Which would explain why my cheeks felt like they were on fire and I desperately wanted to punch something. He said he worked security, but he sure as heck didn’t appear to be working tonight. No, he was definitely entertaining. Or being entertained. Why?
Maybe they’re related?
Wishful thinking. I’d seen the way she looked at him. If she was family, then she had some sort of sick and twisted crush on her kin. But really, who could blame her? Certainly not me. I didn’t even want a relationship, and Dominico’s charm had done me in.
So you have a stupid crush. Get over it.
As I tried to talk my heart into not hurting, the bathroom door opened, and giggling voices drifted in.
“Ohmigod, he is so fine. I can’t believe how lucky you are, Valentina,” a voice said. “Your dad said it’s for sure?”
“Yep,” another girl replied.
Not wanting to be accused of eavesdropping on customers and losing my job, I flushed the toilet and headed out of the stall to
wash my hands.
The girl in the pink dress had brought in an equally young-looking friend. “Michael has to get married first, because that’s the way these things work,” she said, applying even more makeup to her already overly-painted face. “But Don Mariani will announce Michael’s engagement as soon as Abriana’s on her honeymoon. Michael should be married by the time I turn eighteen.”
Michael from my interview? Michael, Dom’s brother?
“Michael is dreamy, too,” the first girl said. She wore a peach chiffon dress and had gems in her hair and stars in her eyes. I kind of wanted to smack them both into reality. High school girls should be focusing on their futures and realizing their own dreams. Not fawning over some way-too-old for them boys. “I wonder who he’s gonna marry?”
“Father said Michael will end up with one of the Caruso girls, but I don’t know which one.”
“Well one of those girls will end up very happy. Can you imagine being lucky enough to be married to the Mariani heir?”
“Hey, I’m not doing bad. I mean, Dom is a lot hotter than Michael.” She sighed.
Married… to Dom. She’d said her dad had confirmed it. I felt sucker punched. Forcing myself not to react, I kept my gaze lowered, dried my hands, and headed out the door. The stupid, girly part of me wanted to rush out of the restaurant and hop on the first bus home, but thankfully the practical side kicked in, forcing me to march back into the kitchen and finish my job. I’d worked hard for this opportunity, and I sure wasn’t going to let some stupid crush on some boy I barely knew ruin it.
“You okay?” Brandon asked the second he saw my face.
“Oh yeah, fine. Just tired.” I forced a smile and batted away his concern with a hand. “Let’s get this finished up so we can all go home.”
I busted my butt to get out of there while my brain worked out the puzzle. Brandon had been right, Dominico didn’t work there. The party must have been for someone in his family… a family so important he and Michael had been in on hiring the help for it. Dominico was dating the jail-bait in the pink dress, and eventually they’d get married. No big deal. It’s not like we had anything going on. And good riddance! After all, I had no room in my life for some rich, smooth-talking charmer.