Page 43 of Always You
“I made enchiladas if you guys are hungry.” I retrieve a green enchilada casserole from the oven. Nana taught me how to make her Mexican dishes. She always makes the best food.
“Damn, these are the best enchiladas I’ve had,” Ryder moans.
My New Yorker best friend can’t handle the heat. She chugs tons of water.
“Omg, you made these so hot, Mila! Are you trying to kill me? Sheesh,” she breathes out, fanning her face.
I laugh, shaking my head at her. “You’re such a wuss.”
“Hey, this white girl doesn’t do super-hot chili,” she groans in her New York accent.
thirteen
DOMINIC
“Hey Dom, two call-ins today,” my head chef, Mario, comments as he walks into my office.
Lately, many of my employees have been making call-ins because of sickness, and family issues.
“Damn, who called in?”
“Melissa and Eric. We’re short-staffed in the kitchen.” He sighs and shakes his head. He’s clearly just as stressed as I am. “I called Jimmy to see if he could come in today. He said maybe in an hour he can make it in, but I couldn’t get in touch with anyone else.”
Fuck. Just what I needed today.I’m swamped with paperwork, I need to do inventory, and complete the payroll. I have so damn much to do. Fucking hell can’t find reliable people.
“All right, I’ll step in to help throughout the day, man.”
Mario taps his fingers on the desk. “Thanks, boss. I appreciate it. I’ll head back to the kitchen. Dinner is the busiest, I assume we’ll be good until later.” He steps out.
My body is so tense from working so hard to catch up, and to be honest—I need to distract my mind from thinking of running to Mila. Jesus, she’s stunning; her entire being is. Her flowing, long, black hair, porcelain skin, emerald eyes, and luscious lips make my mouth water. A mouth to devour. Her curvaceous figure, and gorgeous big breasts fit perfectly in my mouth. Goddamn, I want her. I have never wanted anyone like I want her. She wakes every inch of me. I feel alive. Fucking hell, I missed her so much. Her laugh, her smile. I need to feel her against my skin, feel every inch of her; claim her as mine.
“Dominic, I have been calling you.”
Fuck. She’s the last person I want to see right now. She drives into my office like she owns the place.
“Well, hello, Mother.”
I know she’s found out about Dante. I spent weeks trying to figure out if Mom was the one lying to me or if it was Mila. I went along with my gut instinct and heart. After seeing Dante, I realized Mila would never betray me. She has always been kindhearted. I glance up from the mountain of papers. She’s fuming. I couldn't care less what she has to say. She played me—watched me heal from my illness and a broken heart. She has been feeding me lies all this time. She watched as I suffered for five years, but she never dared to say anything. I love Mila and Dante. I’ll be damned if I let her keep them from me. I could have been there for my son.
“What is it you need, Mother? Did you come to confess how you lied to me and kept Mila from me? And how my brothers ignored her calls. You wanted her to believe I was dead, and you wanted me to hate her; to think she didn’t want me.” I jolt out of my seat and walk toward my mother.
She curves her lips and sneers. “She’s not suitable for you, Dominic. Your smart and successful. She’s nothing but a weight on your shoulder. You deserve much better than that tramp.”
My jaw twitches. She didn’t deny it. “Don’t you dare talk about Mila that way. She’s more than enough for me. She’s everything to me. She was pregnant with my son. Tell me, Mother, did you know? Did you know she was pregnant?” I bellow.
She scoffs. “Of course not, and how do you know it’s yours? Hmm, she’s nothing but a slut. I’m sure she’s pinning it on you, claiming it’s yours.”
Raging heat flushes through my body. How could she be so cruel to her? What has Mila done to her? She never treated Samantha this way.
“Mom, you have no control over my life. I have no idea what you have against Mila, but I’m positive he’s my son. Never speak little of my girl. You might be my mother, but my girl and my son come first.” I stare into her hostile, cold eyes.
“You would think after her being left an orphan, without parents, you would’ve been more maternal toward her; she doesn’t deserve your cruelty.”
All I see is red, fisting my hands. It fucking hurts for my mother to lie to me and treat Mila this way. Her expression shows she doesn’t give a shit about Mila, and she never has. No sympathy for the situation she was in.
I yell angrily, “Get out, Mom.”
She stares at me, pointing her index finger at me. “How dare you speak to me this way. I helped you, cared for you, who was there when you were dying, Dominic. She sure wasn’t.”
