Page 7 of Spice and Revenge

“I will keep that in mind,” she says, her voice low.

“It makes no difference whether you do or not. You're just a chef, after all. You'll wear the apron provided and confine yourself to the kitchen, out of sight,” I declare before storming out of the room and returning to my office.

My shirt suddenly feels suffocating and tight. I undo the first two buttons before relaxing in my seat. I attempt to focus on work, but I'm unable to shake the disquieting presence of Lorena somewhere under the same roof.

I dial my second-in-command, Vito.

“Boss,” he drawls as he answers the call. “To what do I owe this impromptu call?”

“I need you to conduct a thorough background check on my new chef,” I instruct.

“Chef?” Vito chuckles. “Don’t you have a very strict hiring process? Your tech guy must have done some checks on the person before they were hired.”

I rub my eyebrows in annoyance.

“I’m not talking about a normal check, Vito,” I bite out. “There’s something about her. I can’t put my finger on it. I need you to investigate whether she has any ties to the mafia.”

“Consider it done, boss,” Vito assures me before I end the call.

Throughout the remainder of the day, I attempt to distract myself with various tasks. Yet it’s still useless because, no matter what I do, I can’t get the green-eyed woman out of my head. I'll be keeping a close eye on her from now on. In this world, you can't be too careful.

Chapter Three

Lorena

I wake up to the sound of my alarm going off, and for a second, I forget where I am. It takes me a moment, but once I remember that I'm in the Vitale household and not in my small studio apartment in the city, my eyes snap open.

It’s still dark outside, and that is because I set my alarm for 5:30 am. The Vitale have breakfast at 7:00 am sharp, and I have to get everything ready before then.

I reach over and turn off the alarm clock that keeps blaring incessantly. Pulling myself out of bed, I drag myself into the bathroom so I can get ready. While I wash my face, I check my reflection in the mirror, and when I do, I notice that my cheeks are pink, and my eyes are bright. I smile a bit.

Despite what might have happened yesterday, I am excited to start my new job.

I brush my teeth and step into the shower, letting the warm water rinse the last remnants of sleep from my body. Ignoring every thought about Leonardo Vitale, I squirt a huge amount of my favorite vanilla-scented body wash onto my loofah, and I scrub until every inch feels raw and invigorated. I stand under the warm water again, letting it rinse all the soap from my body.

Emerging from the shower, I cocoon myself in fluffy towels, one wrapped snugly around my waist, another around my hair. Amere fifteen minutes have slipped away in the bathroom, leaving me scant time to dress before my presence is required in the kitchen by six.

As I get dressed, I realize how different my life will be from now on. When I lived alone, I never woke up before 8 am. Since I never worked for anyone, I had total control of my schedule.

After culinary school, I realized that the best way to make money and still live a private life was to become an anonymous online chef. It was easy. I had the perfect house setup, I had the skills, and I wasn’t required to show my face anywhere. I think that added to the thrill. The more videos I made, the more people were curious to see my face. That was when the followers and the brand deals began to roll in. I liked that life. It was comfortable and safe.

But it wasn’t what I really wanted. Even though I wanted to be away from my previous life, I didn’t want to hide forever. I realized I wanted a change. I wanted a challenge. When I came across the job opening for the position of live-in chef for the richest family in Sicily, I decided to apply.

So, heck yeah, I’m excited to be here. No sour-faced, grumpy man will steal my joy.

Slipping into one of the uniforms Nina gave me last night, I admire the tailored navy-blue dress, with a white collar, white sleeve cuffs, and white buttons running up the front. The dress stops just above my knee, and I pair the look with black stockings and black flats. I apply leave-in conditioner to my curly blond hair, brush the damp strands, and tie it into a bun, securing it with white ribbons I was also provided. After that, Iopt for minimal makeup, grab my apron and chef hat, and stride out of the room.

Glancing at my wristwatch, I note the time: 5:58 am.

See, you’re already getting the hang of it, an upbeat inner voice says. Indeed, this is one of those rare mornings where I wake up in high spirits.

There is hushed chatter in the kitchen when I step in. Two young women who look to be in their mid to late twenties and a guy who looks to be about the same age turn to look at me.

“Hey! You must be Lorena, the new chef,” one of the women says with a big smile. “We went to the farmer’s market yesterday to get some groceries. We didn’t get to meet you.”

They all introduce themselves with smiles on their faces. When Nina said I would have assistants, I didn’t know that there would be three of them. Following the brief exchange, we dive into work.

Today's breakfast is a simple Italian delight: freshly bakedcornettiserved with jam and Nutella on the side, orange juice and, the most important part of any Italian breakfast:espresso. My culinary schooling left me well-versed in Italian and Sicilian recipes, making this task a breeze.

---