Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Hey, bosses.” Apollo walks over and saves me. “We’re ready to go live on the line when you guys are.”
“Good, I want you to stay after service. This dish will be going on the menu. I need you to learn it as well as Carleen knows it. You guys will be running things together while I’m gone.”
“Cool, I don’t think we’ll have the work marriage you two have, but I’ll do my best,” Apollo says.
“Work what?” Rio asks.
“Work marriage. You two are definitely work husband and wife. It’s amazing to watch. You two move around each other like a dance. I think that’s what gives the food that extra muah.” He kisses his fingers with the last word.
Dario chuckles and looks at me. “You hear that? You’re my work wife.”
He takes the towel out of his back pocket and snaps it at my ass. I yelp and scowl at him. As payback, I dip my fingers in a nearby glass of water and flick it at him.
“Some work husband you are. Abusing me in front of the employees.”
Dario wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me closer. He leans into my ear. “I’d never hurt you.”
He taps my ass and turns to head to his station for the night. I stand stunned and thoroughly turned on. I really don’t think he understands what he does to my body. I blink after him like I’m lost.
“All right, chefs, we’re live,” Dario calls out, snapping me out of my fog.
Dario
Another amazing service. I’m going to miss this. While Papa Riccardo has kept me close, always in my ear about my life as a Di Lorenzo and what the name means on the other side, my nonno is the one who has encouraged my love of the culinary arts. You would think it would have been the other way around.
Nonno takes pride in his bloodline, but for him it started with Amore Domestico so to be a Di Lorenzo, first starts with the business. Then we have this thing of ours. The part of my life that’s pulling me away from all that’s familiar. The dragons and their world.
Growing up and learning those dragons were la cosa nostra, our thing, the other crime families—has made me want to shield Carleen even more. Which is why I stand here, propped against the wall while watching her jot down notes in her recipe journal. She always has that thing with her.
I’m trying to anchor myself, so I don’t do something stupid like go over there, wrap her in my arms, and tell her I love her. It takes more of a man to walk away in order to keep her safe, than it does to be selfish and give in. This is what I’ve been telling myself for years.
Although, I’m starting to wonder if this is true. A pat on my shoulder causes me to turn to look over it. Pauly, one of our older line cooks has his eyes on me.
He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “You’ve been in love with her for as long as I’ve worked for you. Che problema c'è? Why waste time, tell her how you feel,” he says with a knowing look in his eyes.
I shake my head. “She’s too good for me. My life would eat her alive. We need to stay who we are.”
“Marone. Suit yourself. I’ll never understand this generation. In my day, you found your soul mate, you married them, and lived a good life. I miss my Anna. What I’d give for a few more moments, but what do I know?” He shrugs. “Good night, Dario.”
“Good night, Pauly.”
I push off the wall and stroll over to Carleen. She looks up from the pages of her journal and gives me a smile.
“Is that the recipe you wanted me to make?”
“Yeah, you don’t mind, do you?”
“No, but not here. Let’s get out of here and I’ll make it at home.”
“Okay.”
She gathers her stuff and places it in her backpack, as I get our coats. Taking the backpack from her, I place a hand on her back as we move to turn the rest of the lights out and lock the place down for the night.
Thoughts of doing this together for the rest of our lives dance in my head. I ache to be going home to our little family. A house filled with love and laughter. If Carleen knew how much blood I have on my hands, she’d probably run screaming.
I wouldn’t have to worry about her not fitting into my world or her safety. She’d probably look at me with such disgust and disdain, it would be enough to break my heart.
I’m not ashamed of what I’ve had to do. It’s always been to keep my family safe. There’s always someone out there who feels what’s ours should be theirs.