by Maggie Gates
Luca exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Damn.”
“You spill that I told you all of that and you’ll be dead to me. Heard?”
“Heard.” He affirmed. Easing forward, he placed his hands on my arms, and gave my biceps a gentle squeeze. “What can I help you with?”
I looked around the kitchen. Everyone always pitched in to clean up, so there wasn’t much left. “Grab me a beer out of the fridge?” Luca grabbed two. I took his hand and led him back up the spiral staircase to the roof.
I didn’t keep anything on the roof like some other houseboat owners did. The weather on the coast could be unpredictable and harsh winds coming off the ocean tended to fling furniture off the deck or the roof. There was nothing worse than having to swim out to retrieve a lawn chair that was stranded in the middle of the sound. “You know, that jump was pretty fun,” Luca chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the roof and let his feet hang off.
I sat down beside him and cracked open my beer. “You’re not as stuffy as I thought you’d be.”
Luca grinned and it was blinding. His thick lashes, his dark stubble, the way his olive skin glowed—I could stare at him all day. He had opted to keep his shirt off even after we dried off from jumping into the sound. I didn’t mind in the slightest. He was so guarded when he was Luca DeRossi—when he was the curt restaurateur who was never seen in anything other than a four-figure custom tailored suit.
The person sitting beside me now was Luke, the man I met in California who took me out for carnitas and Coronas. He was wearing athletic shorts and no shirt, just like the day we ran together at the gym. I loved seeing his tattoos and I cursed the fact that I hadn’t spent every spare minute of my time memorizing each stroke and curve of the ink that wrapped around his muscles. More than anything, I loved seeing his tattoos because I knew that no one else did. As much as he was active in the public eye and on social media, he did manage to keep his personal life personal.
What I originally thought was a man without scruples was actually someone who valued his personal life so much that he had learned how to play the game. He’d distract the public enough with his grumpy asshole act so that he could go about his business in peace.
We sat in comfortable silence and finished off our beers. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around me. It was such a simple moment, but I couldn’t think of anything that made me feel more safe. Luca wiggled back and threw his leg over to the other side of me so that I was sitting between his legs. He wrapped both arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head.
I loved his gentleness. His kindness.
I loved how focused he was in the restaurant and how commanding he could be in the bedroom.
I loved the way he smelled. The warm musk that was masculine and luxurious. I closed my eyes and leaned back against his chest. “Luca?”
“Hm?” He hummed as he craned his head down and kissed my shoulder.
“Will you stay?” I felt the corner of his mouth twitch against the shell of my ear. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I was about to ask how long he was going to stay after the summer ended, but voices carried through the air and I turned my head and peered over his shoulder to see who it was.
The light in Steve’s garage was on and the door was open. I could see him sitting on a weight bench talking to someone who looked a lot like Melissa.
“They a thing?” Luca asked as he followed my line of sight.
I shook my head, “Nah, they’ve just known each other for a long time. Mel brings him dinner sometimes. She’s been helping him out since Heather passed.”
I watched a little longer. When it looked like Melissa was about to leave, Steve wrapped his arms around her tiny frame in a lingering hug. It definitely wasn’t the kind of hug he gave me, but I didn’t say that out loud. Steve had been grieving long before Heather actually died. A little more-than-platonic companionship would do him good.
“What about us?” Luca asked as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Are we a thing?”
I tipped my head backward and looked up at him. “Are you asking me or asking asking me?”
Luca held both of my hands and laced our fingers together. “I’m asking you if I can stay tonight. I’m asking if you’ll come home with me tomorrow. I’m asking if I can take you out on proper dates and show you off. I thought I could ask for just one night, Mad, but I can’t. I’m asking for all of them.”
I bit down on my lip to keep from giggling. “Then ask.”
“Madeline,” Luca smiled against my neck. “Be my girl?”
I sighed dramatically and smiled, “Fine.”
A hearty laugh ripped out of his chest as he laid back on the roof and pulled me on top of him. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
“You quoting Travis Tritt just to make me fall for you?”
Luca’s brows knitted together. “Who’s Travis Tritt?”
I groaned and rolled away, but he pulled me back.
“I’m gonna kiss you tomorrow,” he warned.
“Why not tonight?”
“I’ll kiss you tonight,” he said, cupping my jaw in his hand as he brushed the pad of his thumb over my lips. “But I’m gonna do so much more to you tonight. And tomorrow when I come into the restaurant, I’m gonna go downstairs and kiss you and make sure that there isn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re mine.”
✽✽✽
I looked at the clock as the shorthand ticked closer and closer to eleven. Luca was usually in by ten in the morning. He left my place at the same time I did, but he drove back to his beach house before coming in. Part of me was thankful that as of yet, he hadn’t stuck his tongue down my throat in front of the staff. The other part of me was sorely disappointed. I sighed and went back to work.
The hand ticked around the clock once more before I heard footsteps on the stairs. Luca’s voice echoed as he got closer. My blood simmered and I quickly brushed off the bits of flour I had on my hands and snuck a glimpse at my reflection in the side of a stainless-steel bowl. I’d put a little more effort into my appearance today. Something about being Luca’s girl made me just a little bit insane, so I dabbed on a little foundation and some mascara.
And then some powder and a little blush.
And then some eyeshadow.
And then liner.
And then a natural lipstick and some gloss.
I felt a little silly going all out for him like I was back in middle school trying to impress my first crush, so when I stopped at Queen’s for my coffee and a pastry, I didn’t bother reapplying the lipstick that printed on my cup.
“And this is our pastry kitchen,” I heard him say as he rounded the landing and began to walk down the last few stairs.
He’s giving a tour. Okay, so it made a little more sense why he hadn’t come down as soon as he got here. I pushed my bruised ego aside and looked at the door.
Luca emerged in a grayish-green suit that on anyone else would have looked completely douchey. On him, the pants that stopped just above his ankles, the shiny black loafers, the white shirt that was unbuttoned a little lower than would usually be appropriate, and the trim sage jacket with a perfectly creased pocket square had him looking like an Italian supermodel.
The woman he was with carried the same sense of confidence. She was almost as tall as Luca. Her blonde hair was twisted back in a sleek chignon. She wore a cream-colored blouse that was practically see-through, but had a spaghetti strap camisole underneath. Her coal pencil skirt started at the middle of her tiny waist and went almost to the middle of her calves. The red soles of her black pumps screamed money. Her complexion was flawless. All she added to it was simple mascara and a bold red lip. She was elegance and grace in a perfectly poised package.
Luca put his hand on the small of her back, just above her lack of an ass and led her through the hustle and bustle. “Celeste, this is Chef Madeline Dorsey, the executive pastry chef here at Revanche.”
My c
heeks burned with jealousy, but I put on my game face and extended my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Celeste Montgomery,” she smiled as she returned my handshake and looked around. “You run quite the operation here, Chef Dorsey. Luca has been telling me all about how you and Chef Christensen have redefined southern cuisine into a fine dining experience.”
Oh, so I’m Chef Dorsey, but he’s Luca to her? My brain exploded behind my polite smile. I looked up and saw that Luca had put on the best poker face I'd ever seen. He quickly ushered her away without a word to me, and showed her around the kitchen.
As he led her back to the stairs, Luca put his hand on her back and motioned for her to go up. Celeste reached over and gave his bicep a squeeze as she said, “I hope I don’t sound too eager, but I’m dying to get to that lunch you promised me.”
Well, fuck.
27
———
LUCA
This was the afternoon that would never end. I had never been so miserable in my life and that was including the time that my sisters made me watch Sleepless in Seattle and Sense and Sensibility in exchange for their silence to our parents regarding a few dirty magazines that the two of them had found in my room. Celeste was fine, but all I could think about was Maddie and waking up beside her this morning.
Her houseboat was surprisingly comfortable. Not my usual choice of accommodations, but the water was smooth as glass and having Maddie stir awake in my arms was the icing on the cake.
And so was the quickie in her shower before she left for work.
I had promised to kiss her as soon as I got in. I knew that it was going to embarrass the hell out of her, but she seemed excited to get things out in the open. I’d learned her tells—the way she’d bite her lower lip and then roll it out when she realized she had done it. How she’d look up at me all wide-eyed and innocent and then look down. The woman was a spitfire, but she had a way of wrapping me around her finger until she had all the power. I didn’t mind one damn bit.
“So, as I was saying—the article discusses the relationship between Food, Fashion, and Sex.” Celeste raised her glass of chardonnay, subtly tipping it toward me. “You embody all three.”
I grinned and leaned back in the chair as I sipped on my bourbon. “If all the journalists who wanted to interview me flattered that way, I’d probably be more willing to sit down with them. It’d sure save my assistant, Astrid, a lot of headache.”
Celeste smiled coyly and sipped her wine. “Ms. Bancroft may have implied that you would be less than cordial about this being put on your schedule so last minute, but I couldn’t give up the chance to interview one of the hottest men in the country, I mean, you were number two in Sexiest Men Alive last year. Thank you for your hospitality. The tour, the food—it’s all been just absolutely incredible. You’re fascinating and I can’t wait to get started on this editorial piece. I wish we had more time to chat. I’m sure with your career, you’d have some sordid stories to tell.”
I glanced over and saw Maddie walking out of the main kitchen with our server as he brought over dessert. “Well, the best is still yet to come.”
Celeste smiled and reached over, placing her hand over mine. “It certainly is, isn’t it? You know, Ms. Bancroft did mention that you might be interested in continuing this conversation at the James Beard Awards in September. I’m based out of New York, so if the offer still stands, I’d love to attend with you. You know, for someone who has no problem being seen in the public eye, you’re quite protective over your personal life. I’d love to get to know you more so I’m able to write more accurately about the man behind the name.”
I didn’t have time to jerk my hand away before Maddie was at the table. I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I slid my hand out from under Celeste’s, picked up my drink, and cleared my throat. “Chef Dorsey.”
Maddie stood slightly to the left of the server as he placed two perfectly plated desserts in front of us. She kept her eyes low, and her jaw set as she calmly explained the dish and urged us to enjoy. I could see the hurt in her eyes. I knew that Maddie didn’t like being perceived as anything other than a professional, so I didn’t make a move to talk to her while Celeste was still there with her phone on the table, recording the conversation.
I made a point to keep my hands clasped together for the rest of the interview, but on more than one occasion, Celeste’s high heeled foot made its way over to my side of the table. I wondered what exactly Astrid had said to her that would give her the impression that I would take her to the James Beard Awards as my date. I certainly hadn’t told Astrid that I was available. In fact, I had told her rather explicitly to make arrangements for Maddie to go with me.
The lunch with Celeste wrapped up and I didn’t even stop at my office before jogging down the stairs to find Maddie. I spotted Rae getting ready for the transition between lunch and dinner service, but no Maddie. “Rae, where’s Chef Dorsey?”
“She went over to the inn for an event walk-through with a bride and Miss Hannah.”
“Thanks.” I darted out the back door that led out to the dumpster pad. I could cut across to the inn, but I didn’t want to interrupt her if she was with a client, so I decided to text her instead.
Luca: Can we talk? That wasn’t what it looked like.
I sent the text and turned around to go back inside, but I heard the chime of an incoming text. I pulled my phone out but there was no new message. Huh. I typed out another text and hit send, and the sound chimed again.
Luca: Maddie, I need to see you.
“Maddie?” I called out as I crossed the pavement to where some line cooks had overturned crates to serve as seating for their smoke breaks. I rounded the corner of the dumpster and found Maddie sitting alone. “Mad, that wasn’t what it looked like.”
She shook her head and dabbed the rims of her eyes with her fingertips. “It’s whatever. I need to get back to work.”
Damn, she looked pretty today, and I’d made her fucking cry for real this time. “It was a last-minute interview that Astrid sprung on me. I didn’t even know she was coming when I left your house this morning.”
“I don’t fucking care about some stupid interview, Luca.”
“Ascoltami, Tesoro—listen to me, it was just business. You’re the one who didn’t want anyone to know about us. What was I supposed to do?”
Maddie swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re right. You had no reason to tell her you already had a date. You had no reason to tell her to back the hell off and act like a damn professional.”
I knew she was being sarcastic, and I deserved every ounce of it. Still, I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit of satisfaction. “Are you jealous, Maddie?”
“Yes, I’m jealous, you idiot!” She shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “Because fucking gorgeous women like her throw themselves at you every damn day! What the hell am I supposed to do with that? I hate being jealous! I’m not that kind of girl!”
“Good!” I shouted back. “Because it’s about damn time you admitted that you want me as fucking bad as I want you! You know how much it’s sucked chasing you around just to get bits and pieces of you, but not the whole damn thing? I want you, Maddie!”
Maddie shook her head. Tears filled her eyes and she stammered before finally spitting out, “You don’t! You think you do, but you don’t, Luca. I’m not the girl that guys settle down with. I’m the girl they have a good time with before they find what they really want. Half of the women in this town owe me a fucking fruit basket for turning their boys into men and sending them off to their forever homes, committed, loyal, and responsible like I’m a damn animal shelter or some shit. I can’t do it with you! It’ll hurt too bad when it’s over. You’ll move on to be with a woman like Celeste fucking Montgomery, but me? I won’t survive you, Luca! You’re going to leave and I’m going to be here.”
“Tesoro,” I soothed as I put my hands on her waist. She was trembling and I wanted nothing more than to
pull her into my arms. “It was just a misunderstanding. This doesn’t change anything. Last night—you and me, we decided that this is what we want. You are what I want.”
Her lip trembled and she grimaced as she shook her head. “You don’t know that for sure.”
“You’re right,” I began. “I don’t. I don’t have a crystal ball that’s gonna tell me what’s going to happen in the future, but I know that one thing is for sure—I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment I saw you walk into the gym in California. Not one minute, Madeline. Not when I watched you kick ass at the competition, not when you stormed out of here telling me you quit. Not then, not now, and if I have my way—I’ll never stop thinking about you again.”
Maddie turned to pull away, muttering, “I can’t do this.”
“No,” I raised my voice and grabbed her arm. You could see us from the corner of the rooftop dining area, and by now I was sure that every single staff member was watching. “You’re not the only one here with something to lose, Mad.”
“Luca, please,” she said as she swiped at a tear that was running down her cheek. Her voice turned to a solemn whisper as she begged, “This is embarrassing. Let me go do my job.”
“No.”
“Luca—”
I heard the door to the pastry kitchen open just as I grabbed a fistful of the front of her chef’s coat and pulled her in. I held the back of her head steady and kissed her hard. For a moment, she was stunned. Maddie let out a little whimper when my tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, but I swallowed it down. The door slammed shut and I looked up to see Scott and Rae, but I didn’t pay them much attention. Maddie had tears in her eyes and I wasn’t about to let them see her like that.
