Whisked Away by Her Sicilian Boss

by Rebecca Winters

  Her head jerked around. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re going to have to watch out for Mario and Manoussos, the two assistants who aren’t married yet. Both seem to be besotted by you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I overhead them talking in the pantry about who was going to bed the squisita Siciliana first.”

  She scoffed. “You made that up.”

  “I wish I had. Little do they know they’ll never be able to get you alone, not when I bring you to the castello every morning, and take you home every night.”

  Tuccia loved the possessive ring she’d detected in his voice.

  “Even though there are strict rules about the staff having relationships, they’ll try everything in their power to persuade you to go out for lunch with them. After one success, they won’t stop.”

  “Cesare—I don’t pl—”

  “I know what I’m talking about,” he cut her off, “because the types in my restaurants in New York are no different when it comes to a beautiful woman. Don’t say you weren’t warned.” He reached for the door handle. “I’ll be right back.”

  He actually sounded upset, but that was because he felt totally responsible for her safety at this point. That meant physically and other ways, too. They’d shared a moment of intense passion, but to her chagrin she knew Cesare would never take advantage of her. Furthermore he wouldn’t allow anyone else to, either.

  If he only knew what was in her heart, he wouldn’t give a thought to what he’d overheard. But it thrilled her to think that on his watch, he might not like the idea that she could get interested in a man she found attractive.

  Manoussos, the assistant from Crete, had a rather dashing appeal in his own way. Kind of like a younger Takis. While her mind was still mulling over their conversation, Cesare came back to the car with their food and drove them to the apartment.

  “Excuse me while I change out of these clothes. I’ll be right back.”

  It was wonderful to discard the hat and stocking. Now her head could breathe. After removing her uniform and shoes, she put on jeans and a top. Once she’d run the brush through her curls, she hurried back to the kitchen. Cesare had already laid out their meal and poured the red wine they’d opened the other day.

  “I can see you’ve bought enough polenta and cotoletta alla Milanese for half a dozen people.”

  “I’m partial to both.”

  She would have to remember that considering he was a connoisseur of fine food. After a few bites she agreed the ribs were delicious. “But I’m afraid that for me the grilled polenta is an acquired taste.”

  “Long ago it was considered the food of the poor, but I loved it when I first moved to Milan.”

  “My friend in Catania loves it, too. She said it reminds her of the porridge she ate when she was studying in England. I miss talking to her. She wouldn’t believe it if she knew what I’ve been doing.”

  He drank the rest of his wine and sat back in the chair. “Today has marked a drastic change in your life. After nine years, you’re no longer engaged to be married, releasing you from your prison. Even better, you’re employed with a vitally important job and benefits.”

  “All because of you,” she blurted.

  “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Tuccia.” He’d turned serious all of a sudden. She hardly knew what to think. “This job is going to run your life for a while. To make it a little easier, you’re going to have to take breaks in order to handle the stress. It’s time we talk about a schedule for you.”

  “All right.”

  “Basically you come to work at eight-thirty and can leave by three o’clock Monday through Friday. You’ll alternate being on duty Saturday or Sunday evening twice a month from six to nine. Not to cook, but to make certain things are running smoothly.”

  She thought about it for a minute. “If there are problems, then I need to improvise. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Should there be any issues, I’ll be there to help.”

  “I see. But who spells you off?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “We’re not talking about me.”

  She shouldn’t have asked. Cesare was in a strange mood.

  “Gemma and I worked out a schedule where she had two weekends off a month and Maurice the other two. I believe it’s still the best way to arrange your time. When you’re off, Maurice will handle any difficulties that come up.”

  “That sounds more than fair. Does it mean that you’ll be taking those same weekends off?”

  “Yes. That’s how it has worked in the past so I can fly to New York and get my business done there.”

  The knowledge that he’d be gone at the same time she had two days to fill on her own private agenda was more than disappointing news. It was awful. Tuccia was so used to being with him she couldn’t imagine him being so far away. To think that a week ago they hadn’t even met. Now...

  “Do you know how to drive, Tuccia?”

  His question surprised her. “Yes. My zia taught me how. But I don’t have a license because my parents never allowed me to have a car. Why do you ask?”

  Frown lines formed around his eyes. “Always assuming you’ll wear your disguise, I was going to let you use my car when I’m not in Milan. Under the circumstances, I’ll make an arrangement with the limousine service so a driver will be on call for you at any time, day or night, when I’m not available. You need freedom to do the things you want and have to do.”

  No one in the whole world was more thoughtful than Cesare. No one. But in his odd frame of mind, she chose not to tell him that he didn’t have to do that for her.

  “Thank you. I’m very grateful for your generosity. But what would you think if we altered the daily routine a little?”

  “In what way?”

  “If you picked me up in the mornings, we could talk about the day ahead of me. But at three o’clock I could go home in the limo with another recipe you wanted me to make. I could get the groceries needed and do my errands. Then I’d make the dessert. When it was done, you could come by to test it. It will free up your time. What do you think?”

  “It’s your decision.”

  “I see.”

  If she dared, she’d ask if she could fly to New York with him. She’d traveled all over Europe under supervision, but she’d never been in New York before. Tuccia would love to see the original Mamma’s, and where he’d lived before he’d put the castello ristorante on the map.

  “Just so you know, your first weekend off will be in two weeks, starting when three o’clock rolls around on Friday afternoon. Do you have other questions for me right now?”

  Too many, especially one about how she would fill her time while he was away, but anything she wanted to ask him wasn’t about her schedule and she feared he didn’t want to hear it.

  “No. Between you and Gemma, I’m feeling much more confident about everything.”

  “You were brilliant today.”

  “The credit goes to my teacher.”

  A strange silence followed before he suddenly got up from the table. “I’m afraid I have to go, but I’ll be by for you at eight in the morning.”

  “Could you do one more favor first and buy the ingredients I need to make the pastries I’ve never prepared? I’ll start practicing on a couple of the recipes before I go to bed.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be right back.” Twenty minutes later he returned with the items needed.

  “Thank you so much, Cesare. Now don’t let me keep you any longer.”

  He was probably so sick of teaching her how to cook his recipes he couldn’t wait for some breathing space. It was only five in the afternoon and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. He’d done his duty, now he was out of there.

  “Thank you for
lunch,” she said after following him to the door with her heart dragging on the tiles.

  He gave her a heartbreaking smile, but didn’t try to hold her or kiss her. “I promise, no more polenta.”

  “It was good for me to try it. I’m a cook now and need to be open to new taste experiences from the expert himself.”

  “You’re becoming a very fine pastry cook,” he corrected her.

  “Arrivederci, Cesare.”

  He nodded before getting in his car and took off like a rocket.

  Trying to pull herself together, she walked back in the kitchen to clean everything up. While she worked, Cesare’s words rang in her ears.

  Today has marked a drastic change in your life.

  No kidding. Her teacher had done his job.

  She remembered something else he’d told her days ago.

  There’s no room in my life for any woman until the castello’s new pastry chef can create masterpieces without my help.

  That day had come. Though they were Cesare’s masterpieces, he’d decided it was time to push his needy fledgling out of the nest.

  You’re on your own, Tuccia. You’d better get used to it fast.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TUCCIA COULDN’T BELIEVE how fast the next week flew by. It didn’t take her long to get into a rhythm. So far the camaraderie with her assistants was building. They were remarkably trained and skilled, hoping to become a chef at a great restaurant one day themselves.

  The two guys who constantly flirted with her made the day fun, but she could never take either one of them seriously despite Cesare’s reminders to be careful not to lead them on. She loved it that he was always around in the background, watching everything without being obvious about it.

  Tuccia still felt a fraud at having been promoted to executive pastry chef status in a week. But the others had no idea how it had happened. With Cesare her mentor, she’d been hyper-glided into the coveted position, one that was saving her life.

  Maurice liked to tease her about her Sicilian ways. Things were coming along. In truth she liked having an important reason to get up in the morning and go to work. She liked cooking! With every new dessert, she needed less help to figure it out and perfect it.

  On Thursday, just before quitting time, Cesare came in while she was testing the results of her assistants’ creations in the ricotta cheesecake department. Each cook had put his or her initials on a piece of tape on the side of the pan. “This particular cake is lacking two essential ingredients that were included in the recipes I passed out.” She knew who had made it. “Why don’t we ask Signor Donati to tell you what they are?”

  Manoussos no longer looked happy as she cut Cesare a piece and walked over to give it to him with a fork. Their gazes met in silent amusement. He started to eat. Tuccia was loving every second of this. Cesare finally put the empty plate down on the counter.

  “Signorina Bottaro is right. I don’t detect the strong flavor of chocolate or amaretto.”

  “You see,” she exclaimed. “The secret of this cheesecake is to crumble amaretto cookies into the crust, and add two extra tablespoons of chocolate. Leave out either of these ingredients and it will taste like all the mediocre cheesecakes you’ve ever eaten.”

  “It was my mistake,” Manoussos spoke up. “I was playing a little joke to see if you could tell. But I didn’t realize Signor Donati would be doing the testing. I’m very sorry.”

  “I’m glad you did it and I forgive you,” Tuccia said with a smile. “Now perhaps you’ll take me seriously and understand the castello ristorante doesn’t do mediocre!” She stared at all of them. “That’s it for today. See you bright and early in the morning.”

  Cesare broke into laughter after they’d walked out to his car. “He’s still upset that he can’t get anywhere with you. I have it in my heart to feel sorry for him because he’ll never get the chance.”

  That made two people who were upset because Tuccia wasn’t getting anywhere with Cesare and she was in pain over it.

  She loved him to the bottom of her soul. They could be together all night every night if that was what he wanted. But maybe she needed to face the cold hard fact that he didn’t feel the same way about her. She didn’t want to believe it, not when she was so deeply in love with him.

  During the second week of her being in charge of her crew in the castello kitchen, Cesare had come by the apartment after work to test the chocolate setevelli torta, a nine-layer cake he’d taught her how to make. When he tested the end result, he told her it tasted like the food of the gods.

  She smiled and thanked him. “Such praise makes a girl’s head swell.” In horrible pain because he wasn’t being more demonstrative in an intimate way, she had to do something to end it. “Since I’m thrilled I’ve passed your exacting test, please feel free to leave and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  For once he looked taken back. Was it shock, or could it possibly be disappointment that she’d brushed him off so fast and he didn’t like it? She got excited to think it might be the latter.

  “Why do I get the feeling you want me to go?”

  “It’s not that. If you must know, I’ve made plans for tonight and I don’t want to put them off. The limo will be here soon.”

  “To do what?” he asked in a controlled voice.

  Oh, Cesare—tell me what’s going on inside you.

  “To do some important clothes shopping in Milan.”

  “You could have asked me at any time. I would have taken you.”

  “I know you would, but I’m no longer like the in-flight helpless woman who developed an embarrassing crush on her protector during those first few days.” There! She’d said it to disabuse him of any notion that he needed to worry about her any longer.

  From the look of his tautened mouth, she’d found her mark. It encouraged her to go on and finish making her point. “That fairy tale has ended now that you’ve given me the tools to help myself. Since the police are no longer looking for me, I want to get out on my own.”

  “Tuccia—it’s probably not a good idea for you to walk alone at the shops this time of evening. It’ll be dark soon. A beautiful woman is a target for unsavory types.”

  “But it’s what I’ve been wanting to do, and any woman is a target for a pickpocket. I can defend myself and I’ll take my chances. To be a normal person without a bodyguard following me around sounds like heaven.”

  His jaw hardened. “Is that what I’ve become to you?”

  She folded her arms, tamping down her elation that he was upset. “I’m going to forget you asked me that question. It’s not worthy of you. I was referring to the security my parents hired to keep me watched day and night. Cesare—I need my freedom. Is it so inconceivable that I would want you to have yours and get on with your life the way it was before we met?”

  The lids of his eyes had lowered so she couldn’t read their expression.

  “In fact as long as we’re having this conversation, I want you to know that the salary you’ve put in the bank account for me will remain untouched until I’ve paid back every cent I owe you. Wait—” she said when he started to protest.

  “I don’t want to be beholden to you or anyone. Because of your incredible generosity, I’ve been given an option that opens many doors to my future when I no longer work here.”

  “You’re planning on leaving us soon?” His voice sounded almost wintry.

  His reaction was more than she could have asked for. If by some miracle he’d fallen in love with her, too, then she had to do something to get him to break down and tell her how he felt.

  “I would never do that to you. But yesterday you told me you heard from your mother and received wonderful news. Ciro is starting to make progress. It’s possible he’ll be well enough to work again in a couple of months rather than six. Y
ou have to be so relieved if he’s able to come back much sooner than expected.”

  Ignoring her comment he said, “Do you wish you could get out of our agreement sooner?” He wasn’t letting this go. She prayed it was a good sign.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Every day I’m here I learn something new and valuable. There isn’t a cook in Europe who wouldn’t sell his or her soul to be the executive pastry chef in a restaurant as renowned as yours. Don’t you think I know that? Until Ciro is ready to come to work, I’ll do everything I can to justify your faith in me.”

  He stood at the door, ready to leave. “Would you rather I didn’t pick you up in the mornings?”

  She hadn’t expected that question, but she’d done it to herself and had to live with it. “I love being picked up. Who wouldn’t? But I’m sure it isn’t always convenient for you. All you have to do is phone me if something comes up and I’ll send for the limo.” Tuccia moved closer to him. “Do you want to know what my greatest concern is?”

  “I don’t have to guess,” he muttered. “You’re talking about your aunt.”

  “Actually I’m not as worried now. But I’m thinking about you and the risk you took to talk your partners into helping me in the first place.”

  “I didn’t have to go that far,” he bit out. “When they heard about your situation and ate that batch of tarts you made, they wanted to protect you.”

  “Nevertheless I wish I could do something important for you to pay you back.”

  “You are,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Talk among the staff is growing that your desserts have already resulted in rave reviews from our latest guests. In fact several of the top food magazines, including Buon Appetito, already want an interview with the new pastry chef.”

  “That’s nice to hear, but I can’t take any credit for it. The people they need to talk to are you and your mother.”

  He cocked his head. “Would it interest you to know that the top dessert so far is your granita? Maurice says it’s perfection.”

  Tuccia adored Cesare for saying that. She loved him so terribly she was going to blurt it out if he didn’t leave in the next few seconds. “Then the credit for that goes to the chef on my parents’ yacht.”