Page 10 of Spice and Revenge

“What?” I manage, caught off guard by the accusation.

“Don’t reply to my questions with questions,” he says. I bite my cheek till it draws blood.

“Were you sent to poison me?” he asks again.

“That is a grievous accusation, Don,” I bite out. “Might I know why you would say that?” He chuckles bitterly like he could not believe me.

“The juice is too sugary. Weren’t you told I don’t take artificial sugar?”

“Shit,” I hear Josie mutter under her breath. Heck. This man made my Josie swear!

“I can assure you that the juice was made with just fresh oranges. I squeezed them myself,” I say. I know he won’t hesitate to fire Josie if he finds out she made the juice, just to prove some stupid point.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” he growls. “Also, can you tell me why the cornetti is undercooked? It’s cornetti! That’s the basic thing every chef should know how to make…”

“You’re mistaken. They’re not undercooked.”

The moment I utter those words, I know I’ve made a grave mistake.

Hilda hisses beside me. “Don is always right,” she whispers through gritted teeth.

I see the anger blazing in Leonardo’s eyes as he drops his napkin harshly on the table. “Everyone, leave!” he growls, staring right at me.

The room empties in a flash, leaving me alone with Leo and a tense atmosphere. Even Nina herself seems ruffled. I turn to go, but his words stop me in my tracks.

“Not you, Lorena.” My body shivers with fear as I turn to face him, seeing him march towards me with anger evident on his face, as he closes the distance.

“Repeat what you just said,” he grits out, cornering me against the dining table. And I realize that it's the first time Leonardo is standing this close to me, and I have lost my ability to speak.

Chapter Four

Leonardo

I cannot believe the guts of this girl. In my entire life, no one has dared to speak to me the way she just did.

My men respect and fear me, my staff tremble at my command, and my enemies quiver at the mere mention of my name. Yet, at this moment, as I loom over her, anger isn't the only sensation coursing through me. Instead, I feel myself getting harder.

I have never stood this close to Lorena before. Now that I am, I notice the delicate details of her face—the light dusting of freckles on her nose and how long her lashes truly are. Her faint vanilla scent wafts into my nostrils, mixed with the savory aroma of spices, intoxicating me.

Her breath catches as I advance, a primal urge awakening within me. I want to possess her, and it's anything but innocent.

Snap out of it, a voice growls inside my head.

“I asked you to repeat what you said,” I say in a low drawl. “Cat got your tongue?”

She remains silent, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. From my vantage point, I glimpse the outline of her cleavage, the unfastened buttons on her dress tempting me. Blood rushes into my dick, and I grind my teeth at the visceral reaction.

My fingers itch to grasp her and show her who's in control. But I know if I touch her, I may not be able to stop. For a fleeting moment, I imagine her in one of my playrooms, over my lap, as I deliver a firm spanking to her ass cheeks.

“Don’t you ever fucking disrespect me again.” My tone is low and dangerous, and I see something flash in her eyes as she continues to stare at me.

Throughout our confrontation, she remains eerily quiet, and I can't decide if I prefer her silence or hate it. I hate the way she talks back at me, but I think I hate her silence more. Her body language makes it seem like she’s scared, with the way she cowers away from me. But the look in her eyes tells me otherwise. Her green eyes burn with rage and restraint, like she’s trying her best to keep her cool. Suddenly, I'm consumed with the desire to push her to her limits and see how long it takes for her to snap.

I swiftly grab my half-eaten plate and empty it over her head. She makes no sound or reaction. She just stands there, glaring at me with nothing but hate in her eyes. I watch as the remnants of food cascades over her, decorating her chef's cap and staining her pristine apron.

“Clean up the mess,” I bite out before storming out of the dining room.

The morning sun beats down as I step outside. Heading towards the garage, my Lamborghini truck emits a confirming beep as I unlock it. Sliding into the driver's seat, I ignite the engine. The truck purrs to life with a smooth, deep rumble.

---