Page 54 of Sold To My Ex's Dad

I bite my lip, debating, then spill it. "It's Donnie. I overheard him at the restaurant last Tuesday night. He was talking about taking someone out," I confess, the words tasting sour as they leave my mouth.

Patrick's jaw tightens, the muscles working visibly as he processes what I've just said. "He said what?" There's a hard edge to his voice now that reassures me as much as it worries me.

“He and one of his goon friends were talking about bumping someone off or whatever the mob guy term is.”

He sits still for a moment, his jaw working. No doubt he’s pissed, as much as he’s keeping it in check.

Finally, Patrick stands, his decision clear. "I'll talk to Luca. This isn't what Savor is about, and I won't have that kind of talk going on there. My restaurant, my rules," he declares, a definitive note in his tone.

I nod, appreciating his protectiveness, but a part of me can't help but worry about the consequences. "But what if Luca doesn't like being told what to do? What if this backfires?"

Patrick reaches out, his hand enclosing mine, his grip firm. "Hey, look at me," he says, with a warm confidence in his eyes. "I'm not about to let anything or anyone threaten what we have—not the business, not our safety, and especially not our family. I promise."

His assurance soothes my nerves a little, and I manage a small smile. "Okay, I trust you. Just be careful?"

He pulls me close, his presence a solid relief. "Always."

Startled back to reality by a quick burn with the hot pan I wasn’t paying attention to; I rush to the sink to cool my hand under the faucet.

The kitchen feels eerily quiet, just the sound of running water and the distant murmur of Patrick in his office. Servers dart in and out, prepping for the evening ahead, but there’s a tension in the air, like the calm before a storm.

I glance at my watch—thirty minutes until Luca Amato and his entourage descend on us again. My stomach knots up a bit at the thought, but there’s something else gnawing at me, too—Caleb.

It’s been over a week since he stormed out, and Patrick’s attempts to reach him have gone unanswered. I haven’t tried to contact him myself, partly because I’m sure he wouldn’t want to hear from me, but also because I’m a little afraid of what he might say.

As I dry off my hand, I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the worry. I need to focus on the tasks at hand and on making sure everything goes smoothly this evening. But it’s hard not to feel a pang of sadness, missing the connection Patrick and Caleb used to have and knowing I’m somehow to blame for the rift.

I check my watch again, steeling myself for what lies ahead. Time to get back to work, to put on the brave face of a sous chef who can handle anything—even a Mafia-tinted dinner party. But in the back of my mind, the concern for Caleb lingers, a quiet echo of the evening's anticipated tensions.

As the evening kicks off, I watch from the shadows of the kitchen as the first wave of guests rolls in. My heart does a little skip of relief—no sign of Donnie among them. I catch a glimpse of Patrick doing the charming host bit before he strides back to me with a look that says he’s got the news.

“They're not all here yet,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Three more on the way, and Donnie’s tagging along.”

The mention of Donnie has my stomach doing flips, but Patrick’s quick to add, “I’ll chat with Luca before his son arrives. Donnie won’t be anywhere near the kitchen tonight.”

“Thank you, Chef,” I say, relieved.

Chapter 33

Patrick

"Gentlemen," Luca begins, raising his glass in a toast as his guests mirror his action. "Tonight is not just a celebration of our ventures but a reaffirmation of our commitment to excellence—both in business and pleasure."

The first course is done; just waiting on the next. Still no sign of Donnie.

One of the guests, a distinguished man with a thick accent—probably the associate from Sicily—nods appreciatively.

"Luca, every time I come to New York, you surpass my expectations. This restaurant, this food—it's exquisite."

"Thank you, my friend," Luca replies with a gracious smile. It's my pleasure to showcase the best our city has to offer. And tonight, thanks to Chefs Patrick and Allie, we can expect something truly special."

He gestures subtly toward me, acknowledging my role without drawing too much attention.

Another guest, younger and more animated, chimes in, "Luca, you've outdone yourself."

Luca's response is smooth, his tone even. "I aim to please. And, of course, none of this would be possible without Savor's exceptional team."

As they continue to engage, discussing topics such as wine preferences and cultural anecdotes, I maintain my distance.

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