A Billionaire For Lexi: Holiday Novella (The Barrington Billionaires, Book 3.5)

by Ruth Cardello

  Who am I kidding? It’s exactly where I want to be, just not where I should be.

  When she turned back to the eggs, she couldn’t remember if she’d even put any salt in. When she picked up the shaker, he shouted, “It all about the right amount of spice. And right now those are perfect. Now you’ll know how to do them tomorrow.”

  I would if you let me concentrate on what the heck I am doing instead of what I am feeling. “What else can I do?” And please don’t you dare say check your sausage.

  “I have a fresh fruit salad. If you can plate everything, I’ll finish the cooking.”

  He was back to business, which she liked. There was too much riding on the outcome of this event. Her father didn’t say who was coming, but he’d made a point of saying there were going to be some of the most influential people in the country. They didn’t know her father wasn’t there, and she refused to let his reputation be tarnished. All she could do was trust Vincent knew what he was doing.

  Trusting him to cook is easier than trusting myself to behave.

  The night before he’d told himself it was a one-time deal, then she was on her own. Yet this morning he found himself back in the kitchen.

  Breakfast was usually the easiest to prepare. That wasn’t the case today. Renita was sweet and lovely to look at but a distraction that slowed him down. She wanted to talk, and he could listen to her voice forever. At one point he’d been so enchanted by her laugh he couldn’t remember if he’d put salt in the hash browns.

  Normally he was in full control of what was served, but not so much today. He could’ve kicked her out, but then again, she was the only reason he was helping in the first place. Your teary brown eyes got to me. I have no issue with that, but I’d much rather we heat things up in my bed than in here.

  He had two choices: pursue her and say fuck it to helping her, or actually, for once, think beyond his own wants and needs and do something for someone else. Not just anyone but you, Renita. Vincent wanted to see her succeed at this. She had heart, and he believed she wanted to learn, but teaching her was going to complicate things. He knew she couldn’t afford such liberties right now. Time was of the essence. Private lessons will have to come later.

  No matter how hard he fought the urge, he found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye. Who could blame him? She was stunning. Whether she realized it or not, Renita sang softly to herself with each task he gave her to do. Who would’ve thought that I could get turned on watching someone plate food? Did she really need to sway those sexy hips to the rhythm? It was pure hell to watch and do nothing.

  When he felt the blade of the knife brush his knuckles he was pissed. Not at Renita, but at himself. It was a foolish mistake that, in all his years, he’d never made before. That didn’t mean he didn’t snap at her anyway.

  “You’re done in here. Go help the waitstaff.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Her big brown doe eyes were filled with concern.

  Problem is what you’re doing right. “No. You look preoccupied, and I thought maybe you wanted to keep an eye on your staff.” Instead of me keeping my eyes on your ass.

  “Thank you, but breakfast is complete, and I have to think about the cleanup.”

  He looked around and wished the dishwasher had shown up at least. Thankfully technology made it so most wasn’t done by hand any longer, but still someone had to load and unload the machines.

  “It’ll only take me five minutes. You can go.” She still didn’t leave. Something was troubling her, but he couldn’t tell what. “Renita, breakfast service went well. We only get a short break before it’s time to start the lunch prep.” She didn’t budge. “Glad to see that doesn’t seem to be what’s troubling you.”

  “No. I’m worried about my father. I spoke to him earlier, and his cough is so bad.”

  “Is he taking anything for it?”

  She shook her head. “My father is one of those people who normally refuses to take any medicine. But he needs something to help with this cough. With the roads still impassable, there’s no way for me to get him some. Even if I did, I’m not sure he’d take it.”

  “I can teach you how to make an all-natural one. I’m sure if he was feeling better he’d have thought of this himself.”

  Renita’s eyes widened. “You’ve tasted my cooking, I should never attempt to make anything medicinal.”

  He smiled at her. “No cooking needed. I’ll show you how to make a tisane by infusing herbs in hot water. Trust me. This will help with coughs and bronchitis. I’ll make and you watch and learn.”

  “Thank you.” Renita’s eyes softened, and she smiled as she spoke.

  Her smile made his heart melt. Somehow she trusted him and that was a mistake on her part. He knew what type of man he was. Yet here he was relishing that she did trust him. I don’t want to break that trust either.

  He gathered chamomile, marshmallow leaf, and thyme because he couldn’t find any mullein leaf.

  Once again he had her smell each one.

  “I thought thyme was for meat.”

  “It is one of my go to spices that I add to many recipes. But it’s not only used for cooking. There are numerous medicinal uses for it as well.”

  “Wow, thyme. I guess you learn more than just how to prepare a great meal in culinary school.”

  Putting the herbs in a glass quart jar, he added raw honey and poured in boiling water, filling the jar to the top, and then covered it.

  “All we have to do is let this steep for forty-five minutes and then strain the herbs. He’ll want to breathe in the vapors while sipping the hot tea.”

  “I think even I could make something like this.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Renita. If you wanted to learn how to cook, I know you would and probably kick ass at it.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I’ll cook dinner for you one night and see if you change your mind.”

  “Deal. But for now, I have a few things I need to attend to before we meet back here.” Before he passed her, he gave her a kiss on the top of her head and said, “Good job this morning. Go get some rest.”

  Walking away, he kicked himself. He had no idea what possessed him to do that. Somehow it had felt natural. Pull your head out of your ass, Vincent. You’re not the sweet, tending, loving guy. Don’t pretend to be.

  He went to his room and took a cool shower, trying to clear his mind. Getting dressed again and heading back down wasn’t what he wanted to do, but he’d said he’d be there, and it was almost time to go. As he headed toward the door his phone rang. About time, they get the network back up.

  Vincent shook his head as he saw who it was calling. “Brice. Hope you’re calling to say you’re on your way, because trust me, this is an event you don’t want to miss.”

  “Why is it that I don’t believe you, Vincent?”

  Because, we’ve been friends long enough to know a lie when we hear it. “So I take it you and Lena aren’t coming. Even to taste R. Gallo’s food again?” If you do show up, buddy, trust me, you’re so going to eat Renita’s cooking instead of mine.

  “Tempting as that sounds, we’re getting hit with another snow storm here in Boston. Looks like you’ll have to enjoy this one without us. Besides, I thought you were making this a purely business trip. You know damn well that if I travel with Lena, she’ll have both our heads if we even mention work once.”

  “Oh yeah, got to love that family life.” His voice was full of sarcasm.

  “I used to sound a lot like you do now. Trust me; with the right woman by your side, you’ll see things differently.”

  He was surrounded by women throwing themselves at him all the time. They either were looking at him for what he had, or for who he was. He enjoyed their company for what it was, but always knew what it’d never be: anything serious or long term. It wasn’t that Vincent was opposed to sharing his life with someone. He’d never met anyone who intrigued him enough to explore anything serious. Or never let them in
long enough to find out.

  “Has he met her yet?” Vincent heard Lena asking in the background.

  “Met who?” Vincent asked.

  “No one,” Brice replied flatly.

  “Brice, give the phone to Lena.” Vincent knew Lena was the weak link, and it wouldn’t take long to find out what really was going on.

  “I thought we’d talk business.”

  “Normally I’d prefer that, but at this moment, I think I’d rather hear what Lena has to say.”

  “You say that now,” Brice said before handing the phone to her.

  Her joyful voice echoed through the ear piece, “So, tell me, Vincent. Did you meet her?”

  “Somehow I don’t believe you’re talking about Sophie Barrington because you’d know she hasn’t arrived yet.”

  “Sophie is a wonderful person, but you can meet her anytime. I’m talking about the chef’s daughter, Renita.”

  So, Brice, you let your wife talk you into sending me here in this bitching cold weather under the assumption I was to meet a chef when in fact it was to meet a woman. Nicely played. But it’s not going to work. “Yes, we’ve crossed paths a few times.”

  “And? What do you think?” Lena asked, and Vincent rolled his eyes just listening to her excitement.

  Then he thought about it. How well did Lena know Renita? Was this all a setup? Was Renita only pretending not to know anything about cooking just to lure him to her? A damsel in distress. Classic move, and I fell right into it.

  “I think she’s a fine hostess, but I’m not hiring any at this time. You can have her apply online, and we’ll keep her résumé on file if anything opens up.”

  He heard Lena huff and puff on the phone. “Vincent Moretti. Are you blind? She’s beautiful, funny, and so full of life. Renita’s amazing.”

  “And if a position opens up, I’ll consider her for the job.” He wasn’t going to give Lena the satisfaction of knowing he almost fell right into their web.

  She huffed again, and he heard her say, “I should’ve listened to you, Brice. Vincent’s hopeless. He can’t even see.”

  The line went dead. He looked at the phone and once again, no service. Got to love this place. You better be on vacation if you come here. I’m not sure if this is due to weather or location, but either way no one is getting any work done.

  He quickly made his way downstairs and was about to enter the kitchen when he saw Renita approaching him with a young man. You’re going to be sorry the service came back briefly, because you’re about to see what an ass I can really be when I run a kitchen.

  “Hi, Vincent. One of the sous-chefs made it in. I guess they are slowly opening up the roads again. That is both good and bad.”

  “Why is it a bad thing?” To me, it means I can get the hell out of here anytime. I see no reason to stay for the party. They have my money, and I’m not about to kiss anyone at midnight, so there is no reason for me to stay.

  “Means that more guests are going to be allowed to come, but if we don’t have the staff, we’re going to be in worse shape than we already are.”

  He watched Renita closely, analyzing everything she said. We? I’m just a guest. Vincent didn’t respond to her and spoke to the guy with her. “How long have you been here?”

  “Three years.”

  “Any good?” Vincent asked as he stared him down. He wanted to know how confident this kid was.

  “Chef Gallo would be the person to ask.”

  I like that answer. I can work with that. He hated it when they were so cocky they wouldn’t take instructions. Normally those people didn’t last long in his restaurant. “Then let’s ask him. What’s your name?”

  “Roberto.”

  Vincent turned to Renita and said, “I can call or you can.”

  “Are you really going to check with my father on whether or not his staff is qualified? Who are you to say if Roberto is good or not? I never even checked your credentials. For all I know you’re not actually a chef either. I can’t believe I let you into my kitchen!”

  He thoroughly enjoyed watching her defend her father’s honor. She was fiery, and it wasn’t just evident in her tone either. Her eyes became so dark they were almost black. You’re either the best actress I’ve ever seen, or I’m misjudging you all together. Since I can’t tell yet, I’ll stick around a bit longer but only because you’ve piqued my interest. And that is not easily achieved.

  “You expect me to believe that you don’t know who I am?”

  “Of course, I know who you are. You said your name when you introduced yourself. Is that supposed to mean something to me? Because it doesn’t.” Renita snapped at him, and she was serious as she spoke.

  Roberto seemed surprised by the exchange. “Signore, I apologize, for Ms. Gallo. She is under much stress. But she will be better now with me here. I shall take over for her in the kitchen until Chef Gallo returns.”

  Vincent admired the kid for trying, but he knew there was no way he’d be able to handle everything himself. Hell, he could barely do it, and he was more than a sous-chef. He knew he was going to regret these words, but he said them anyway.

  “I’ll be happy to have your help, Roberto. I just hope you are more skilled than Ms. Gallo. Otherwise, we’re going to have a lot of unhappy people shortly as time is running out, and I need to get in there and start the prep.”

  “You cannot be serious. Vincent, there is someone qualified to cook here. If you want, I can allow you to assist him, but he’ll be the one giving directions, not you,” Renita said firmly with her hands on her hips.

  “I take direction from no one. Not you, not Roberto, and not your father. Got it?”

  “Vincent Moretti, you’re impossible!” Renita said and stomped her foot as though it would intimidate him. He would’ve laughed if Roberto hadn’t spoken up.

  “Signore Moretti?” Roberto exclaimed.

  Renita turned to him. “Yes, Vincent Moretti. He’s a guest here.”

  “Signore. Your reputation . . . I’m honored to meet you.” His hand trembled as he reached out to shake Vincent’s hand.

  Vincent watched as Renita went from perturbed to puzzled. “Do you know him?”

  “Si. Un gran chef, a grand master chef. He owns molti grandi ristoranti. If, Chef Gallo only knew you were here he’d—” Roberto exclaimed, full of excitement.

  Renita arched a brow then looked back at Vincent. “You’re not only a chef, but you own restaurants?”

  Vincent laughed and used his best Italian accent, which was pathetic but he did it anyway. “Si, signora.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Does it matter to you that much? You questioned my qualifications, and I said I was a chef. If you’d have questioned further, I would’ve divulged the information.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “I’m attending the event like everyone else.”

  “But this is an exclusive group of individuals. They’re all—”

  “People.” He knew exactly what she was about to say. Rich. Powerful. He wasn’t going to disagree with her on that, but he didn’t like to classify himself that way.

  Vincent watched as she changed how she acted toward him. It was as though he was no longer Vincent, but now Chef Moretti. I don’t think I like that one bit. I only want to be Vincent to you.

  “Chef Moretti, would you please be kind enough to assist one more time in the kitchen? With such short notice, I cannot pull this off with only myself and Roberto.”

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her if she called him Chef one more time, he would kiss her until she couldn’t remember her name, never mind his. Instead, he gave her a quick nod and said as he walked toward the kitchen, “Rule two, stay out of the way of the sous-chef as well. Let’s go, Roberto. We’ve got a lot to do.”

  He left Renita standing there as he walked to the kitchen. It was going to be much easier with Roberto’s help, but he was going to miss his alone time with Renita. Maybe that’s a go
od thing. I can get through this and get back to my work.

  Chapter Three

  First Roberto showed up, then within an hour three more of the kitchen staff arrived unannounced. She wasn’t sure if Roberto had called them, but somehow their jackets were all pressed, and they each were as quiet as a mouse just awaiting direction from Vincent.

  If Dad could only see you now. There wasn’t really anything for her to do with the staff all at Vincent’s beck and call. She’d only be in the way, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t keep an eye on things. Grabbing her cell phone, she stepped out of the kitchen to call her father.

  “Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?”

  “Almost back to myself since you sent that tisane. How did you know how to make it?”

  “Glad it helped.” She wasn’t ready to tell him exactly how. He was a private man, and he’d never be happy knowing she had been talking about him being sick with the staff, never mind a guest.

  “How are things at the resort? Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen cooking? Did something happen?” He spoke faster with each word.

  “Everything is fine, Dad. Don’t worry about a thing.” She understood why he was concerned. Mr. Prescott had always been kind to her father, but this was a high-level event that if it went bad, they were all finished.

  “What is on the menu?”

  I should know this. Sadly I don’t. “Dad, I only have a minute and wanted to check on you, that’s all. Glad you’re no longer coughing, but I’ve got to get back inside.”

  “Nita, I’m your father. I know when you’re keeping something from me. Unless you want me to get in my car and come there this instant, you will tell me the truth.” His tone demanded an answer.

  “Dad, you know I’m not a good cook. Actually, I’m horrible. But there’s a guest here who’s been kind enough to . . . help me.”

  “A guest is in my kitchen? I can’t believe you’ve let a stranger in there. What’s his name? I want to speak to him right now.”

  She had thought it was crazy when Vincent mentioned how territorial chefs were, but she’d just heard her father confirm it. Maybe they’re all crazy from the heat of the ovens or something.