Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
There are so many reasons I can’t have her, I’m wasting every second of the time I’m with her imagining something different.
I stand awkwardly behind her, my hands shoved into my pockets. “Let me know if you need anything.”
She replies without even turning around. “Thank you, Sergio.”
I turn and walk away.
I can’t have her. I can’t be with her. I can’t even kiss her.
Then why does it take all of my self-control to walk out of this kitchen and leave her behind?
It’s the first time in my life I can’t have a woman I want.
It only makes me want her more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eden
Days pass and I don’t see Sergio again.
I shouldn’t care, but I can’t help but check the doorways when I hear footsteps, scan the parking lot for his car, and it would be a lie to say I wasn’t listening for the sound of his voice whenever anyone speaks.
It’s exhausting and frustrating. I want to shake myself. I’ve never felt this way about another person, and I… no. The truth is, I’ve never felt this about a man, and that’s dangerous territory for me. I came here with a very distinct purpose in mind, and I can’t let… whatever this is… sway me.
He sent word through his staff that the food I’ve made is “excellent.”
I’m tempted to make a sub-par meal just to get his attention, but I’m not that juvenile. And why do I want his attention? I don’t even know the man.
I still wonder where I am. It’s taken all of my self-control not to explore more of my surroundings to see what the big secret is. My job doesn’t take all day, even though I’ve tried to occupy myself.
At home—no, I can’t think of it like that. Where I came from, I worked all day, every day. I worked my fingers to the bone. We all did. So it’s natural for me to look for things to do here to keep my mind off of all things Sergio.
I’ve made my own sourdough starter, baked bread from scratch, and even canned an oversupply of green beans, much to the surprise of the kitchen staff. I made fresh pasta and tiramisu, two of the best recipes I have, hoping to draw Sergio out. On a whim, I even sent away for exotic ingredients for a complicated dish… but he only had one of his staff members fill the order.
I huff out a breath and sit on the bed in the room he’s letting me use, wondering what I want to do next. A loud knock on the door startles me; my heart beats faster, hope begins to bloom, and then—
“May I come in?”
Not. Sergio.
I open the door to find a younger version of Sergio, with the same dark hair and eyes that pierce right through you, standing outside with a sheaf of papers in his hand.
“Timeo Montavio,” he says. “Sergio’s younger brother. Sergio asked me to bring this to you and for you to tell me if there’s anything else you need.” He gives me a grin that would melt my into a puddle if I didn’t have a thing for his older brother. But thanks to the crush I wish I could quelch, I’m unmoved.
I stare at the papers. “Thank you.”
“Okay, so…if you need anything, let me know.” He smiles. “And welcome aboard. My brother does not hire anyone lightly, so I look forward to seeing how good your food is.” He rubs his belly and frowns. “Soon. Ciao, bella.”
As he walks away, I muse at the wonder of the Montavio family genes that somehow manage to make these guys scary and charming all at once, like they’d just as soon punch someone who double-crossed them with their right hand while pouring me a glass of wine or holding the door open for me with their left.
Interesting.
Not that I care about Timeo, younger brother, as it were. I mean, he’s nice and all…
I shake my head and look down at the papers Timeo gave me, unfolding the envelope that reads salary in bold ink.
I stare at the numbers.
I blink. I stare again.
He’s paying me how much?
I yell after Timeo before he’s out of sight. “Um. Timeo?”
He’s almost at the end of the hall when he turns and looks back at me. “Yeah?”
“I think you gave me the wrong one,” I say with a laugh. “This can’t possibly be a chef’s salary.”
Timeo snorts. “Believe me, you didn’t get the wrong one. We pay our staff well, Eden. He doesn’t want you to go. So, welcome.”
My heart soars. I’ve only seen a sliver of this club, but now I’ve met Timeo, Sergio’s brother, his cousins Mario, Marialena, and Rosa. Just being around them makes me wish I could know all of them better.
I look between the slip in my hand and Timeo’s retreating back.