by Chloe Blake
She fingered the dew, the droplet somehow reminding her of Toni and how wonderful he was with his fingers. And his body. And his lips. He’d whispered Italian in her ear, making her go a little crazy for him. She didn’t recognize all of it, too engrossed in how good he felt, but she thought she’d heard Sono innamorato di te. “I’m in love with you.”
An inner voice told her to stop being ridiculous. If he did say that, it was in the moment. Andre would tell her that during sex all the time. It meant nothing, clearly. And Toni didn’t love her. She was only there for a little while. They were just acting on impulse, and now that it was out of their systems, they could begin working together like adults. Adults who didn’t have any more sex.
“Angel, it’s freezing. What are you doing?”
She jerked, splashing lukewarm coffee on her hand. Toni approached in wellies and his pajamas. His bed hair stuck out at all angles, making him look sexier than anyone should so early in the morning. The events of their night rushed back to her. The feel of him, the weight of him, the length of him inside her. Heat rushed across her skin.
She bit her lip. Just one look at him. That’s all it took. Her heart sped up as he got closer, then it jumped when he smiled. No, she couldn’t have this reaction. Not if they were going to work together.
And not if she was going to leave Italy unscathed.
“Hey” was all she could muster. He reached for her, but she pretended to be checking herself for more spilled coffee and moved away, trying to get away from him and the electrically charged space that now swirled around them. Suddenly she wanted to touch him. And him to touch her. Just one kiss, she mused keeping her distance from him before mentally slapping herself.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him stop and put his hands on his hips.
“I don’t like waking up alone.”
“I was craving coffee.”
He stared at her. “Trying to avoid me?”
His deep voice was thickened by sleep and sex.
“Of course not. I just needed a walk.” She sipped her coffee, which had gone almost cold, and tried to find her voice.
“You’re having regrets.”
“No.” It was true. She didn’t regret it. But she was afraid he would.
“Then come back to bed.” His voice was patient and his fingers grazed her elbow as if testing the waters. Then she was there in his arms and his lips were on hers. She held her coffee cup out to the side while he ate at her mouth and wrapped his arms around her waist. He didn’t let go of her mouth as his palms smoothed over her bottom.
Had they been in his room, she might have given in, instead she gathered all the inner strength and wiggled from his arms.
She turned her back to him and caught her breath. Then she turned. His dark brows were scrunched and his chest rose and fell rapidly.
“What was that?”
“Your daughter and mother are around.”
“They’re in bed, where we should be.”
“Toni, last night was great, but I think we should acknowledge last night for what it was.”
“You mean this morning.” His brows went up. “And what was it?”
“The last time. We have other priorities to focus on and sex would get in the way. We’re expected to work together, not sleep together.”
She was handing him an out on a silver platter. Later he would realize that he wasn’t that interested in her. That she wasn’t his type.
“We can do both.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
She chuckled at his insistence. “I don’t want your mother to get the wrong impression.”
“And what impression is that? That we like each other? That we made love several different ways hours ago? That would be the right impression.”
“I don’t want her to think that we are together or dating or whatever Italians do.”
“They get married.”
“Well, we’re definitely not doing that.”
His gaze didn’t waver, and then he smiled a slow smile and held out his hand. “Come back inside.”
“I won’t be your lover and your chef, Andre.” Dani’s hand went to her mouth.
“Andre? I am not Andre.” Toni closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek. “I’m not Andre.”
“I know. I don’t know why that came out like that.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Of being a cliché.”
Toni cocked his head at the strange answer.
“How can I help you not become a cliché?”
“By pretending that last night didn’t happen.”
Toni’s lips became a thin line.
“Fine. We can act like nothing happened.” He pulled her face toward his and gave her a searing kiss. Then he looked into her eyes. “But we both know it did.”
He dropped his hands and walked back to the house, leaving her feeling bereft and unsteady.
Chapter 15
Grace and Sophia watched under frowns of confusion while Dani and Toni barely spoke to each other over breakfast. The silence got even louder when they walked out the door toward Via Olivia.
Dani’s skin prickled with magnified awareness as Toni followed her down the cobblestone path from the villa to the restaurant. The path crested and before her she saw the sprawling one-story building made of glass and stone that sat majestically behind another garden of wildflowers, small ponds and a white statue of three dancing ladies.
“They are the Graces,” Toni said, following her eye line.
“They look...graceful.”
“You’ll see more when we visit the museum.”
Her stomach flip-flopped at the term we. He strode past her toward a large wooden door, but Dani stopped and let her gaze roam the property. She could see why this was ten years in the making. Gravel paths with benches were folded into the greenery and she could see the surrounding trees in the distance that shielded the estate from sight.
The veiled gem rivaled a king’s country home. Dani traveled up the small steps to the main entrance where Toni stood. He was in jeans and a light sweater, and a light fragrance of pine lingered around him.
She’d smelled the same subtle fragrance on his skin when they had slept together and she fought the memories that flooded her thoughts.
“How are people going to find this place?”
“A map. There is a parking pavilion through those trees.” His outstretched arm revealed a beautiful stone archway at the side of the building. “It’s secluded, that’s part of the appeal. And you should see it at night. There are lights in the walkways and hidden in the garden.” He sent her a look. “It’s romantic.”
She bet. Her gaze landed on a glass room where wine bottles were artfully stacked.
“Is that a tasting room?”
“Sì. Come, Chef. You can taste anything you like.” She ignored the comment, but she felt it in her panties. He held open the door and she slipped by him, feeling overly conscious of his presence.
“Nice bar,” she said. The cherrywood gleamed. Toni smiled with pride and slapped a hand on the top.
“It’s sturdy too.” He looked at her under lowered lids. Suddenly her clothes felt too small.
“Good, then it can support a lot of drunk rich men.”
“It can support more than that.”
She looked him up and down.
“Are you trying to have sex with me on this bar?”
“Sì, Chef. I would love to have you spread out on this bar.”
Dani fought her rising arousal. “That sounds unsanitary.”
“But worth the health inspection, I bet.”
“Toni. This is not what we discussed.”
He straightened. “Sì, Chef.”
“Show me...the kitchen.�
��
His grin was mischievous. “Sì, Chef.”
He acted as tour guide as they made their way through the complex.
“There are four dining rooms that face the back garden. All are connected.” She stopped to study the elegant interior ripe with gilded wallpaper, perfectly set tables and crystal chandeliers. “A guest lounge.” They passed a room with a fireplace and leather seating. “Guest washrooms are there and cell phone stations are there. We have separate areas for the staff.”
Dani was impressed. Accommodations for staff were usually subpar.
“Who keeps this place together? It’s immaculate.” Someone had to be overseeing the space.
“Mamma, Marcello and I take turns. But if you’re talking about staff, they are local people. We pay them well to be invisible, but only to the guests.”
Toni made a turn toward the back of the room then out into a beautiful secluded patio where Dani counted fifteen staff members standing in a row, silent and still.
“Staff, I’d like you to meet Danica, our chef. Marcello would have no other here so please treat her with the respect that you would him.”
They bowed in unison and one stepped forward. “Benvenuto, Chef.”
“Grazie. It is an honor. You’ve outdone yourselves.”
Toni went down the line and impressively introduced each of the members by name and background. When he was done and the staff dismissed themselves, Dani turned to Toni with a smile.
“You know them all.”
“We are a sustainable restaurant. That means the people need to thrive here too.”
Never had she felt so attracted to a man than at that moment.
His gaze lingered on her lips, and then he swallowed and continued. “This is the outside staff lounge. There is a den below these stairs with an inside lounge.”
Dani followed Toni down the stairs and peeked her head through a wood door. Leather couches and a Persian rug graced the inviting space. Rows of unisex restrooms lined one wall and a cell phone station sat in the corner. Along with a laptop station.
“I can see myself taking a long break in here.”
“I can see you naked on that couch.”
Dani hitched her hands on her hips. “Is that all you think about? Sex?”
His brow went up. “When you’re this close and no one is around? Sì.”
He leaned closer and she moved backward until her back was against the wall. He placed one hand on the wall by her head and half caged her with his body.
“You look delicious.”
She made a dismissive noise. Knowing she wanted to test the kitchen, she’d thrown on a V-neck T-shirt and had put her hair in a ponytail. “I look like a farmhand.”
His eyes dipped into the V of her shirt, making her breathing increase slightly. He hadn’t even touched her, yet her body was screaming for him. His knowing gaze came up to hers.
“What would you do if I kissed you right now?”
“I’d leave.”
He frowned. “Really? I don’t think so.”
“I thought we were going to cultivate our working relationship.”
“We are.” His lips moved closer and their breaths mingled.
“I thought we were going to forget what happened.”
His fingertip ran down her arm. “Can you forget, angel? Because I’m having a hard time.”
She shivered, not sure when the name went from an annoyance to an endearment she craved hearing.
They heard steps on the patio and Toni stepped back just in time for the doors to swing open. Two of the staff members she just met headed toward the restroom. Toni held her gaze as he opened the door.
“Come. Your kitchen awaits.”
Just off the dining rooms and the rear gardens was a tall vented stand-alone building. They walked the wide path from the main building into swinging doors and Dani gasped at the silver and white beauty before her.
Marble countertops, prep islands, chopping stations, stainless steel appliances and heat lamps, copper cookware, ceiling fans, and hanging from shiny hooks were rows of white coats, with two black ones at the end.
She was home.
Her gaze scrolled over the burners, imagining bubbling sauces and sizzling meats and—She turned when she heard the door open.
“Where are you going?” Toni had one foot out the door.
“Letting you get acquainted. Your staff will be here in an hour. I’ll be in the tasting room. Text if you need me.”
He winked and left, leaving her a little speechless. How did he know she wanted to be alone with the kitchen? The memories of him driving himself inside her came from nowhere and she ran a hand over the cool marble as a distraction.
She thought she could forget, but her body was having none of that. She wanted him. Again. Would that set her free? One more time? Ten more times? She gritted her teeth and let her fingertips guide her to the ovens.
She spied a small alcove and delighted in all of the full freezers and jar storage. She smelled the dried herbs, inhaling long and hard to wipe away any thoughts of Toni.
She only had days to whip her kitchen into shape. She needed a way to get him out of her system.
An hour later the kitchen staff trickled in. Dani introduced herself to the handpicked selection of cooks who had worked with Marcello in the past and present. She recognized one or two from Via Carciofo, then outstretched her hand to Dao, a small Japanese man with a stern face. Marcello’s other sous-chef, now hers.
“Chef.” He bowed. Dani frowned at the thought of a Japanese chef in an Italian restaurant, but then, some had said she never belonged in an Italian restaurant, either. It made you work harder. She had a feeling they would get along well.
After introductions she put them to work, giving them a task of preparing five simple Milanese dishes of their choice. A test, so to speak. She watched silently and they worked efficiently, taking Dani’s instruction where she saw fit to give it. Save one.
The French saucier looked at her tattoos and sneered.
“I came here to learn from a top chef, not a prep cook who slept with Andre Pierre.”
Rage boiled under Dani’s skin, but before she could act, Dao grabbed a French rolling pin, yelled in Japanese and cracked the long wood on the counter.
“Apologize!”
The room gaped and the saucier’s eyes went wide. The Frenchman’s gaze shifted back to Dani, and then he whispered, “Désolé.”
Dao stepped forward. “Out!”
The saucier looked to the room for support, but none extended even a look. His spoons clattered as he shoved his pots away and tossed his coat on the floor.
The room stayed silent as he took his bag from the lockers by the door and swung wide the double doors.
“Chef, on behalf of the staff, our sincere apologies.” Dao bowed again.
Dani made no movement, but inside she shook. The way he looked around for support meant things had been said. This staff thought she was a joke.
Dani grabbed the saucier’s discarded pot and threw it across the room. Tomato basil puree splattered the white brick as if remnants from a murder.
“Who else would like to leave?” Her raised voice echoed. “Go.” She tossed another pot. “Go!”
No one moved. Her laser gaze hit everyone in the room.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard or what you’ve read. You are here because you were handpicked by Marcello. And so was I! When you let me down, you let Marcello down. Now get back to work!”
All turned their backs quickly and focused on their stations. Head high, Dani slowly walked out the doors, took a deep breath, and then she felt the pull of tears rising from her throat.
She clutched her forearm and dug her nails into her skin, hoping to distract herself with pain. But her scarred and tatted arm was bulletpro
of, and she chuckled at her feeble attempt.
The tear subsided and as her fingers slid over the bumps in her arm she remembered that she’d paid her chef’s dues over and over. They didn’t just give out Michelin stars at Walmart. Unfortunately, her name wasn’t attached to any of them.
It’s her fault. Not Andre’s, hers. She let him take the credit. She let herself be a ghost.
She didn’t want to be a ghost anymore.
“We’re ready, Chef.” Dao’s voice was low behind her.
“I’ll be right in.” She tossed over her shoulder. “And good work.” She wanted to hug the man, but as second in command it was his job to keep the staff under control. If he hadn’t have stepped in, she would have had to fire him.
Dani heard the door swing shut and she waited only a minute more on purpose, just to remind everyone that she could. Moving to go back in, her gaze swept the windowed dining area in appreciation, but she stopped midturn when she recognized Ava’s blond hair and slender form in the guests lounge.
She was standing in a formfitting dress, looking every bit the hot girl, staring out over the garden when Toni walked into the room and handed her a glass of wine. They sat together on one of the leather couches and Dani tried not to let the fingers of jealousy tighten around her throat.
They could be talking about Sophia or taxes or...enemas. Whatever they were saying, they looked cozy. Dani felt a prickle of insecurity. Women loved Toni, just like Andre. Hot girl, Hot guy.
When Dani walked back into the kitchen, five dishes were lined up under the heat lamps, and the staff was standing against the wall. Dao handed her a fork and stood behind the first dish for Dani’s inspection. They were seasoned cooks, but learning a new menu still took practice. She bent over each dish and graded for presentation, preparation, creativity and taste.
“The orecchiette is rolled perfectly.” She popped one in her mouth. “Too much lemon juice in the pasta water. The broccolini is bit overdone and I’d want a bit more of a crust on the sausage. Could have been browned half a minute more.” With each tip, Dao nodded his head. She speared a burst tomato. “Nice tomato. Overall, not bad.”
She moved onto the next dish, a risotto in lemon and olive oil. She tasted it and then tossed the dish. “Overcooked.” The third and fourth dishes received the same fate, but the fifth dish, a Swiss chard ravioli was almost perfect.