by C. M. Steele
“Just take off your shoes and I’ll clean up this mess.” She takes my coat from me and hangs it on the coatrack near the door that has a mat to catch the melting snow. It’s the first time I take in her home. It’s small, but neat except a small section near the sofa which looks like it’s Anabelle’s workstation. She needs her own office, and one day I’ll give it all to her.
Chapter Five
Anabelle
He hasn’t tried to kiss me again, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. My heart wants to believe he’s telling me the truth, but I have so many online images in my head. Granted, the biggest one had been a lie. I want to choke that woman myself.
I call Isabelle to make sure that she’s okay, and when I finally feel satisfied that she’s good, we say goodbye. I leave out that our boss is sitting on our sofa, staring at me because I don’t want to answer questions I can’t possibly answer.
“Tell me about you, Fabio. The real you.”
“Not many people know the real me. I’d say Franco knows me the best, but in reality, there’s not much to say. I work a lot. About eighty hours a week between all the three restaurants. About twice a month, I join my guests of honor, or celebs as you’d refer to them. It’s a press thing I learned a long time ago. Food can be made great by many people but without those to taste it, it’s pretty hard to get people into your restaurant. Once, I had that famous actor from The Nature Games. He came in and posted about my food on Twitter, and it kicked off my business from there. My first restaurant had been in Rochester, and since he’d been from Canada, he’d stopped while on Lake Ontario. After that, I built a restaurant in New York City with Franco’s help. He leased a property to me, and it’s been a hit.”
“Wow. You and your brother are close. I hope that he recovers emotionally.”
“With your sister at his side, I can’t see how he couldn’t. What about you?”
“Me? What about me?”
“Tell me about you? Why are you a graphic designer?”
“It came easy to me in school, and I picked it up and ran with it. I’ve been doing it since I turned eighteen. It’s been a slow-going process as I learned the business side of it all. Now, I make a nice living even if it’s nothing compared to what you and your brother make.”
“You should be very proud of yourself. I’ve seen your work and know you’re talented, but I will say that you just need the proper vehicle to drive your business. It’s also a matter of who you know. Maybe once my site launches with your designs, we’ll do some marketing and I can get some coverage for it.”
We sit on the sofa together, talking and talking as the evening sets in. The sun has set, and I’m surprised that I’ve forgotten all about my sister. We briefly spoke a couple of hours ago, but I know she’s getting down and dirty so I’m happy for her.
“I’m going to start dinner,” he says.
“Oh really? There’s not much in the fridge.”
“I’ll make do. You do know I’m a chef.”
“Yes, world renowned, from my online reading.” My stomach burns with all the online images.
He crosses the distance calmly, cupping my face again with his strong hands, which feels so incredible that I want to lean in to his touch but I don’t. “You need to stop with that shit. Most of the shit they post is to get you to read their crap and not real. I get that you still don’t trust me, and I suppose I was foolish to hope that you would, but I’m not giving up.” He runs his hand along my jaw and then steps back. “I told your boyfriend that I wouldn’t.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Dr. Malcolm. I wish I never hired him to help with Isabelle, and then he would have never had a chance to sweep you off your feet.”
“We never had another date.”
He moves toward the kitchen, but before he moves out of sight, I ask, “Do you want to watch a Christmas movie with me?”
“Yes. You pick one,” he says, standing there with his head poking out from the hallway, staring at me.
“You might not like it.”
“I’ll watch it even if I don’t.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now go on and get it started. I’ll make some food.” I scroll through all the movies and decide to go with a romantic comedy. I queue it up and then check on the weather outside. Brushing the curtains aside, I gasp, “Oh my…” The ground is all white, and so are my tires that have disappeared in the snow. He wasn’t kidding. If he hadn’t come here, I would be completely alone on Christmas for the first time in my life.
I have the man I’m madly in love with, snowed in for the holiday, and I’m bitching at him. Can I believe he’s telling me the truth? It’s too unfathomable that someone like him is a virgin. He’s twenty-eight, handsome as hell, and super popular with everyone. Then, I remind myself that I’m no different. I’m popular, pretty, and in my twenties, still clinging to my virginity.
Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt. “Anabelle, can you come in here, please?”
“Coming.” I open the kitchen door and practically moan as I take in the image before me. He’s wearing one of my sister’s generic aprons she has for work, and the sleeves on his green shirt are rolled up just like I remembered at the restaurant. The man is so damn sexy, it’s a crime.
“Um…what is it?”
“Is there anything in here you don’t like or eat?” he asks. My heart does a flip at the question. I’m sure it’s just a part of his job, but it’s considerate since we’re not at the restaurant.
“No. Isabelle and I are the same when it comes to food, so we only keep things in here that we’ll both eat.”
“Good. It’s going to be meatless spaghetti tonight, but I promise to make it work.”
“Actually, there’s some premade basic meat sauce in the freezer. Isabelle tends to make more than we need, so she only needs to add some fresh veggies and pasta and we have a dish. If you want, of course.”
“This will be perfect.” He bends over the
and kisses my cheek. “So what movie have you chosen for me?”
“The Holiday.”
“Great choice. It’s one of Mia’s favorites.” He continues cooking like he didn’t just mention another woman’s favorite things in front of me after claiming he’s never been with a woman—ever.
With my hands on my hips so I don’t reach out and choke him, I hiss out, “Who’s Mia?”
“Woman, Mia is my cousin, who you’ll meet at the Christmas gathering.” He shakes his head.
“Um…I thought we’re snowed in.”
“It’s possible the snow will stop soon, and then it’s a matter of the plows hitting the roads. My brother has a fleet on speed dial, so even if we’re going to be a day late, we’ll be going there.”
“Why? He doesn’t leave his house, so why have plows at the ready?”
“Yes, but it’s not just for him. He has neighbors and employees who travel, so he wants to make sure everyone is safe. God, he was so pissed at me for sending her up there. I thought she was supposed to leave before the storm hit, but then she had car issues.” Damn. Franco sounds better and better by the minute. I might forgive him for unknowingly hurting Isabelle.
“She did. She had a flat tire and had to get it fixed.”
“Still, I feel like a dick because she could have been seriously hurt.”
“Don’t. My sister sounds happy.”
“That’s wonderful, because that means my brother is too.”
“Thank you for this.”
“For what?” His brows knit together, tilting his head.
“Bringing them together.”
“It’s only what they deserve.” I reach up and bring his head down to mine, kissing his lips.
“What was that for?” He groans.
“It’s what you deserve.” He slides his hands around my waist and sets me on the counter near the sink.
“Woman, you’re more than I deserve, but I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.”
“Are you going to kidnap me?” I challenge, arching my brow and daring him. Although I’m not really sure why considering I’m new to all of this.
“For the rest of our days.”
I give in and he kisses me hard, moaning as he presses his length along my heat. “I’m a virgin too, Fabio,” I let slip.
“Perfect, because the thought of you with anyone else, especially Malcolm, would kill me.”
“Honestly, I don’t remember much about him. He’s a nice guy, but not for me. Doctor or not.”
“I still hate him.” I roll my eyes at him, pretending to be annoyed with his blatant jealousy, but I find it sexy as hell.
“You’re being silly.”
“Am I?”
“You’re being jealous over nothing. You’ve had tons of dinner dates with celebrities and rich people vying for your attention,” I remind him.
“I was never on a date with them. It was always business. This prick could have taken my place. He wanted to be with you, challenging me to back down, but I’d never give in.”
“Whatever. Are you going to finish dinner or let me starve?”
“I’ll feed you, but I’m still considering having your pussy for dinner. You have no idea how often I’ve imagined you naked and my tongue fucking your slit.”
“Often?”
“Every damn day. Now, sit your pretty ass down and relax while I set up dinner.” I do as he says, sitting at the kitchen table and watching him work his magic. A strange feeling comes over me while I think about a future with him. Did he want Isabelle?
He fills two plates and sets them on the table while bringing over a bowl of garlic bread. I didn’t even know we had the ingredients to make it. I bring us a couple of drinks from the fridge and we sit down to eat, but I can’t find the will to take a bite.
“What’s wrong? Does it not smell good?”
“No. It smells great.” If it wasn’t for my sudden shift in mood and his presence, I might have scarfed it all up.
“Then what is it? You’re upset, but I don’t know why.” He reaches out, holding my hand in his across the table.
“Were you interested in my sister?” I blurt out.
He sets down his fork. “No. I’m not saying she’s not beautiful; after all, you two are twins, but I’ve never been attracted to her. If you want me to be honest, it took me by surprise that I wanted you like I couldn’t breathe if I didn’t make you mine when I’d never thought of Isabelle like that.”
“It’s strange to me. When we were growing up, guys would flirt with both of us, and then we’d never trust if they wanted us or the other. Most people can’t tell us apart.”
“I can, and so can Franco,” he says. “Because it’s more than looks. My heart pounds out of control when I look at you. My nerve endings electrify when I even think of touching you. It’s insane the power your presence has over me. Now, please eat because I promised you a movie night.”
“Okay.” I blush and then dig into my meal. Damn, okay. He’s a great chef too. No wonder everyone around the world admires this man. We finish our dinner in silence because he’s got me tongue tied.
“I’ll wash the dishes.” The wind howls through the house. “Oh goodness. The weather doesn’t seem to be getting better.”
“Let me check my app.” He digs his phone out of his pocket and looks at the weather. “It’s supposed to stop in an hour.”
“That’s good. Maybe we’ll get to see them tomorrow.”
“That would be nice. My parents and the rest of the family would love to see Franco happy.”
“I’m sorry for all that he’s suffered.” I couldn’t imagine being in their position. If something like that had happened to Isabelle, I’d be destroyed.
“Thank you. Now go ahead and sit down. I won’t be too long.”
“I can wash the dishes,” I insist.
“I’m sure you can, but since I made the mess and we should have been on our way to Franco’s home, I will take charge and with pleasure, clean the dishes.”
I press my hand to my chest, batting my eyes. “Such gallantry. What shall I do to ever repay you?”
“Take my last name.” I look at him to see if he’s teasing, but his eyes are all seriousness. It’s not that I don’t want to marry him because of course I do, but I’m still scarred by the stories and my heart might not survive if he decides to change his mind.
I swallow hard. “Um… that’s a steep price for dishes. How about a kiss?”
“I believe we have an accord, my lady.” He reaches out for me but I pull away quickly, dashing back toward the door.
“Yes, but after the dishes are done.” I turn on my heels and walk out of the room. A deep rumble of laughter comes from his chest.
A few minutes later, he comes into the living room, drying his hands on a towel. “So let’s do this.” He plops on the sofa next to me and immediately pulls me to his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I don’t fight it or flinch; instead, I snuggle in and press play.
It feels so good to be in his arms. Maybe a little too good because I let out a yawn and close my eyes.
Chapter Six
Fabio
I don’t know when we fell asleep, but as I open my eyes, the sun is gently coming through the front window. My neck is stiff and my arm is numb, and yet, I wouldn’t trade it for the world—although it would be nice to hold Anabelle in bed.
She sighs softly in her sleep. Doing my best to not disturb her, I slide off the sofa. I head into the kitchen and search for the coffee supplies. I’ve almost got it started when she comes into the room, sleepily rubbing her eyes.
“Coffee,” she grumbles.
“I’m making it right now.” Everything was easy to find because Isabelle organizes it just like a chef would.
Anabelle pulls out a chair and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “So do you drink super-strong coffee like they do in Italy?”
I lean against the kitchen counter because if I get too close to her, I might do more than talk. “I make a slightly stronger roast, but no, I don’t drink espresso. I know it’s not how you expected today to go, but Merry Christmas, Anabelle.”
She smiles gently and replies, “Merry Christmas, Fabio.”
There’s an awkward silence because we’re standing too far apart and neither of us are crossing that distance. I’d pin her to the nearest surface and kiss her fucking senseless if I knew that’s what she really wanted, but she seems nervous. “Do you think we can get to your brother’s home today?”
“I hope so. It might be a day late, but we’ll still be able to celebrate by tonight. I’ll need to shovel out my vehicle, though.” That’s a daunting task considering this isn’t my home and I don’t know if they have the proper tools. For all I know they hire a local kid or a service to shovel or plow their driveway.
“We have a few shovels in the garage.” I’m taken by surprise, but then again, Isabelle did need shoulder surgery because she had too much nerve damage.
“Thanks. I have one in my trunk, but I’m guessing it’s buried.” Living where it snows heavily every year, it’s a smart thing to have because you never know when you come out of work if you have to dig yourself out. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“No. I just need some coffee. I fell asleep right after we ate.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I made it far in the movie.”
“I didn’t get to the part where they switched houses. That pasta was delicious and filling.”
“Carb coma. I understand completely, but your sister deserves most of the credit. It was her sauce that I added to and I’m a little put out that she kept that one a secret.”
“Speaking of work, I need to work for a bit.”
“It’s Christmas,” I say.
“Yes, but since I’m taking off for a couple of days, I need to do what I can in advance.”
“That’s true. We open the restaurants on the twenty-seventh. Although, I’ll have to notify Andre that he’ll
be head chef now.”
“What? What about Isabelle?”
“Do you think he’s going to let her out of his clutches?”
“No, probably not.” She giggles, and I wonder how she’d feel if I captured her in my condo and kept her there until we bought our own house. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing important.”
“Well, excuse me. I need my coffee.” She takes a cup from the hooks and pours a cup with a bit of sugar and a drop of creamer before walking out of the room. I make my cup and follow to see her sitting with her legs crossed under her and tablet on her lap. She’s making notes when I ask, “Have you seen my phone?”
“No. Do you want me to call it?” she asks, but I shake my head. She’s working, and I shouldn’t bother her with it.
“Maybe I left it in the kitchen.” I head in there, but then I hear the ringtone I set for her call. “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer.
I get out there and see she’s staring at my phone, knowing damn well I’m busted. It’s a stolen picture of her with the Caller ID reading Wife calling.
She ends the call and then calmly says, “It was in the cushions.”
“Thanks.” I take it with shaky hands. Her phone takes that moment to ring, distracting us from that conversation.
“I have to take this.”
“I’ll be out shoveling.” An hour later, I think my balls have permanently shriveled up and burrowed up into my stomach.
“A cup of coffee?” Anabelle offers as I walk in. I take it, making sure not to touch her hands so she doesn’t get cold, but then I kiss her nose. “Holy fuck, you’re a popsicle.”
“Well, at least we’ll be ready to go in an hour.”
“That’s great news. And speaking of great news—Franco and Isabelle are getting married.”
“Fuck, yeah! Our plan worked.”
“Your plan. I was just your little assistant,” she says, but I’m not letting that stand for one minute.
“You’re so much more than that to me.” I kiss her gently after taking off all my wet things. “Are you still working?”
“Yes. I need another hour, and then I can take my stuff with me and work while we’re on the road.”
