With Us (The Amato Series Book 1)

by Layla Frost

  Well, quicker.

  Luc still had to explain a lot to me, but it hadn’t been as bad.

  I’d have never guessed how much I’d love using it. I wasn’t Ansel Adams or anything, and I had no intention of trying to pursue a career. It was just a lot of fun.

  After working as hard as I had for so long, it was nice to have a hobby.

  Theo rubbed my back. “Mom wants to know if you can help smash the potatoes.”

  Such a little thing shouldn’t have excited me so much. It did, though.

  I whipped the camera off and practically threw it at Theo. “Why didn’t you say so? Can you put this away, please?” Lifting onto my tiptoes, I kissed his cheek and headed for the kitchen. “Thanks.”

  “Dahlia, thank goodness.” Rachelle whipped her hands and looked around. “I may have miscalculated the timing and now I’m behind. Have you made mashed potatoes before?”

  “Only the boxed flake kind.”

  “That’s a no then.” She handed me a masher. “They’re in the strainer in the sink. Melt some butter in the pot on the stove, then add the potatoes and smash. I’ll get the milk.”

  I set to work, doing as she said.

  “Add this in slowly.” Rachelle set a measuring cup of milk on the counter before handing me salt and pepper. “Let me know if you need me.” She turned away and shouted, “Lou! The game will be there when you get back. That turkey may not if it starts on fire.”

  “I’m coming, no reason to be overdramatic.” Lou winked at me as he headed outside.

  “Years.” Rachelle shook her head. “He’s been asking me for years to deep fry a turkey. Not only did I finally make it, but I also loaded it with Cajun seasoning so it’s spicy for him. And he thanks me by getting sucked into the damn football game. That bird is probably drier than the desert now.”

  I carefully did as she’d instructed, not wanting to be responsible for ruining a key side dish.

  Rachelle grabbed a fork and tried a bite. “Add another stick of butter, then it’ll be perfect.”

  “A stick?”

  She smiled. “Thanksgiving is the day of rich foods. Can’t skimp on the butter.”

  “Got it.” Cutting the butter, I added the pieces and stirred it so they’d melt. “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “Grab that cutting board,” she said, gesturing to a massive clear board. When I brought it down, she opened the oven and pulled out a turkey in a roasting pan. “Okay, give me a hand here.” We carefully transferred the massive bird onto the cutting board. “There. Now that rests. Can you get the package of butter out of the fridge? And while you’re in there, pour us a drink from that pitcher.”

  “Sure.” I handed her the butter before filling a couple glasses. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Just keep me company.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Leaning against the counter and sipping at my drink, I watched Rachelle melt multiple sticks of butter in a double burner pot. She whisked in some flour slowly, making the kitchen smell almost nutty. I wasn’t sure what she was doing until she added the juice from the turkey and some milk. “Gravy?”

  “The best. Here.” She forked up some potatoes and dipped them in the gravy.

  I ate them and wanted to steal the rest. “That’s delicious.”

  “Usually, I roast one regularly seasoned turkey and one Cajun, and mix the drippings for gravy so it has some kick.” The door opened and footsteps approached, so she raised her voice a little. “But Lou insisted on deep frying.”

  “And you’ll be happy I did,” Lou said, entering the kitchen.

  Theo followed behind him, holding a roaster pan and the second turkey.

  “Did you remember to turn the fryer off and disconnect everything?” Rachelle asked, scooching out of the way so Theo could set down the pan.

  Theo fought a grin, though his eyes crinkled and his dimples showed more. “Only two people in this room are in the habit of setting food on fire, Mom, and I’m neither of them.”

  “Hey, mine was a cake!” I protested.

  “One time. I set the kitchen cabinets on fire one time, and I’ll never live it down.” Rachelle started filling bowls with food before handing them to Theo and Lou. “Tina and Julie should be done setting the table. Start bringing food out.”

  With everyone pitching in, food enough for a hundred was placed on the table set for twenty-five. Lou and Theo each carved a turkey, transferring the meat to platters before putting them with the rest of the food.

  “If you’re wanting to eat, better get in here quick!” Rachelle shouted.

  When we’d arrived a couple hours earlier, I hadn’t believed how much food there was. Although Rachelle had told us we didn’t have to bring anything, I’d insisted on getting pies from the bakery Java Brew used to order from. Theo had also brought multiple bottles of wine. Everyone else had provided a side dish, drink, or dessert, which meant there was a month’s worth of food.

  With everyone doing a bit, no one person had to carry all the weight. It made for a more relaxing day, even for Rachelle.

  Food was dished out, drinks were poured, and the rumble of conversation and laughter filled the room.

  “This manicotti is amazing,” I whispered to Theo. There were pieces of spicy Italian sausage and about seven pounds of cheese.

  “Luc made them.”

  “What?” My eyes shot down the table to where Luc sat with his parents. “Luc, the manicotti is amazing.”

  Smiling, he lifted his fork a little. “Savor them ‘cause I only make them once a year.”

  “Twice,” Celia, his mom, corrected, “if I ask for it for Mother’s Day or my birthday.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “They’re a pain in the ass,” he said.

  “Luca, watch your language.” Celia beamed at me. “He’s not lying, though. He makes most of it from scratch. The pasta, ricotta, and sauce. It’s all he can cook, but he does it so well.”

  “Because it’s for a family thing, Faust provides the mozzarella and sausage,” Luc further explained.

  “Is he still not letting you eat at his restaurant?” Luc’s dad, Matt, asked.

  “No.”

  “And he still spits after he says his name,” Theo added.

  Rachelle poured a glass of wine. “That man can hold a grudge.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, giving in to my curiosity.

  Everyone’s focus turned to me, and I had a moment of panic.

  Uh oh. Did I overstep in asking? Why are they all looking at me? Did I just ruin the entire day?

  Most of the people started laughing. Luc and his parents, plus Theo, Gabe, and Tina started speaking at once.

  “Okay, hey, quiet!” Luc shouted above them. “It’s my story, so I get to tell it.”

  “No way,” Tina said, shaking her head and earning a glare from him. “Side-eye me all you want. Anytime you tell the story, you change it into a work of fiction. Dahlia wants to hear the truth.’

  “I got this,” Gabe said. Setting down his fork, he cleared his throat and launched into full storytelling mode. “Faust likes to enter food competitions. He’s very competitive, so, unlike most everything else in his life, he takes them very seriously. Two years ago—”

  “It was three,” Luc interrupted. “See, you’re bad at this. Let me—”

  “Three years ago, Faust was entering ravioli into a competition. He’d spent weeks perfecting a goat cheese and mozzarella blend for the filling, then a different one for the mushroom shallot sauce. Weeks of trial and, in his eyes, error. He made about sixty cheeses, then another sixty ratio variations. He finally had it perfected.”

  “Okay,” I prompted, both intrigued and hungry.

  “So two nights before the competition, Luc gets drunk. I’m talking, totally shitfaced.”

  “Oh no.”

  Gabe grinned. “Oh yes. He pours himself into a cab and decides he’s hungry. So, he heads to Faust, but not before stopping at a twenty-four-ho
ur convenience mart.”

  “At the time, I still had a key to Faust’s,” Luc put in. “He took it. And changed the lock. And he changes the security code on a weekly basis.”

  “Faust comes down a few hours early to begin making the raviolis for the contest,” Gabe continued, “to find Luc, totally naked, sleeping on one of the long metal carts.”

  “I was overheated.”

  “And he’d used every last bit of competition cheese.”

  I looked at Luc. “Oh, Luc, no.”

  “To Faust, that still wasn’t the bad part,” Gabe said.

  “It’s worse?”

  He nodded. “When he’d stopped at the convenience mart, he’d picked up around thirty boxes of mac and cheese. The cartoon shape kind. He’d cooked almost all of it, and that’s what he’d put the cheese in. Faust was angrier that his cheese had been mixed with fluorescent orange powder cheese.”

  By the end of the story, everyone was laughing, Luc included.

  “It was an innocent, and drunken, mistake,” he said. “But since then, I haven’t been allowed to eat his food.”

  “You basically ate his baby,” Julie pointed out.

  “Speaking of babies,” Mar said loudly, cutting everyone’s laughter. “Uncle Theo, are you and Dahlia having a baby?”

  Expectant eyes turned toward us. Even with a quick glimpse, I could see the excited anticipation in Rachelle’s.

  “No,” I rushed out, not wanting to give anyone a false sense of hope. “No babies here.”

  “I fucking wish,” Theo muttered next to me, earning an elbow to the rib. If his mother’s squeal of delight was any indication, she’d heard his comment. I elbowed him again.

  Gabe looked at his daughter. “Mariangela, what would make you ask that sort of thing?”

  Mar sat a little taller, her focus on me. More specifically, my stomach.

  She wasn’t the only one inspecting and analyzing the area. Since my sweater dress was form fitting, it was easy to see there was no Amato turkey in my oven.

  “I asked you a question,” Gabe said, using his ‘dad voice’.

  Mar slumped back. “Beth said that if a man and woman kiss, she’ll have a baby. And Uncle Theo and Dahlia kiss all the time. And he’s always touching her butt. I thought maybe that was to make sure the baby didn’t fall out.”

  Ignoring the laughter and comments, Gabe looked at Tina. “Looks like you need to bump the talk up a couple years.”

  “And while I’m at it,” she said, “I’m adding in a talk with Beth’s mother.”

  As conversation moved off babies and onto other embarrassing kid antics, Theo wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. He turned his head, his lips right near my ear as he whispered, “Maybe soon, my gattina.”

  Yup, definitely feels like a real family holiday.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A Bull and a Dancer

  Dahlia

  Flesh hitting flesh.

  Every time was harder than the last.

  The smell of dust and sweat clung in the air, coating everything. Everyone.

  Dim lighting made it hard to see unless you were right under the strategically placed lights.

  The ground and walls seemed to rumble and vibrate from the noise.

  The roar of the crowd.

  The scream of the victor.

  Or maybe it was my own scream.

  With one hand on my hip and the other behind my head, Theo had me pressed against the wall. His cock slammed into me, over and over until my moans drowned out the noises of the fight on the other side of the wall. I came hard and fast, clawing at his back and biting his shoulder to keep from screaming.

  A few more brutal thrusts, and Theo came, too. His grunts filled my ear, turning me on no matter how spent my body was.

  Like the fight, it’d been savage and brutal, though beautiful in its own way.

  He lowered me, keeping hold of my hips until my legs felt steady. “You good, my gattina?”

  ‘Good’ would be an understatement. Apart from the baby conversation, Thanksgiving dinner with his family had been perfect. I’d been tempted to skip the fight and stay. As it was, we’d had just enough time to go home and change. It was a good thing we had decided to go because one of the first fighters had shown up drunk on more than just the holiday spirit. The match had been cancelled, and Theo and Sammy had scrambled to adjust the times.

  “Better than good,” I said. “The fights are mesmerizing, I’m full of good food, and I was just full of something way better.”

  He pushed in close, taking my mouth in a hard kiss before backing away. “We’ve gotta get out there if you don’t want to miss the headliner.”

  I grabbed my panties and black jeans, shimmying them on. With a quick check that my breasts were back in my bra, I turned to Theo. “Ready.”

  Wrapping his arm around me, he smiled down at me. “We could always go back home…”

  “After.” A shiver ran through me. “Definitely after.”

  When we got back into the main room, Theo steered us to a blocked off area right near the ring. We approached just as one of the men fell. The whole thing shook.

  With all that weight hitting so hard, I’m surprised the whole thingy didn’t collapse.

  It’s called a ring.

  And not a stage, like I called it earlier…

  Theo sat in a chair and immediately pulled me onto his lap. There were other people sitting in similar position. Some men had more than one woman with them.

  “Do you get a lot of rich people?” I whisper yelled in Theo’s ear.

  He looked over to one of the men who was surrounded by gorgeous women. “How do you know it’s not his award-winning personality that draws them in?”

  “Is it?”

  “No. He’s a pretentious dick. But a loaded one who likes to drop cash on a regular basis.”

  “Thought so.”

  I’d been curious if I’d have to make small talk with anyone since most of Theo’s work functions required it. There, however, no one spoke to him unless he greeted them first. No one even looked at him.

  There was a difference in him, too, subtle as it was. He was more serious, bordering on stern. Dominating and intense.

  When he looked down at me, his face always softened even if his eyes were filled with a wicked heat.

  I liked it.

  All of it.

  In the back of my head, there was still a quiet voice who protested it all. With each day, each kiss, each time he touched me, the voice faded more and more.

  After the fighter was counted out and helped from the ring, there was a short break. A buzz of exhilaration and heightened anticipation had the crowd already worked up. Had it not been for the strict and heavy security along with the smooth-running schedule of the fights, the frenzy they were whipped up in could’ve become something dangerous. Luckily, the vibe stayed mostly positive as the crowd awaited the next fight.

  There was a burst of applause and cheers that travelled like a wave from one end of the room to the other. A scowling man stepped into the ring first. When a beefy and muscular kid climbed in and smirked, the noise level was near deafening.

  “That’s Astaire,” Theo told me when it quieted enough for him to be heard.

  “Why do they call him that?” I watched for a moment as he moved, his feet going faster than my eyes could follow. “Never mind.”

  I couldn’t hear Theo’s laugh, but I could feel it.

  Unlike the other fights, Astaire’s wasn’t about raw power and blind luck. His steps were strategic, as if he’d read his opponent’s thoughts and knew which way to duck or weave. When the grumpy looking guy’s fist did connect, it seemed to carry a lot of force but Astaire barely blinked. In contrast, his hits were faster and looked softer, but each one caused a larger reaction until the scowler was practically doubled over with blood dripping from his lip and eyebrow.

  Theo cupped my jaw, his hand resting against my neck. He gently pulled
me back so his lips were at my ear. Using his hold, he shifted my focus around as he spoke. “Astaire picks up on weak spots. Bull is leaving his wide open, and Astaire is catching them over and over. He’s conserving his energy, while still doing a lot of damage.” He dropped his hand, but leaned us over so I could see Astaire repeatedly punching Bull in the side.

  The bell rang and each fighter went to their corners. Astaire still looked spry, smiling and laughing with whoever the person was on his side.

  Bull looked pissed. If looks could kill, Astaire would be the one in trouble. Each smirk earned him another dagger filled glare.

  “Uh oh,” I muttered.

  Theo shook his head. “He’s about to do exactly what Astaire is waiting for.”

  The bell rang again, and Bull was like… Well, like a bull let loose for the first time in months. He charged at Astaire, fists flying as he grunted with the effort. Though he connected a few times, most of his blows missed. The ones that did connect made little difference.

  In the previous round, each fighter had almost danced around each other, trying get a feel for their opponent while throwing punches.

  Astaire’s read was obviously much better than Bull’s, because while Bull came storming out on the offensive, Astaire was patient with each dodge and punch. It wasn’t long before Bull realized his mistake. His shoulders slumped slightly, fatigue breaking through his sour expression.

  Taking his opening, Astaire stayed controlled as he went on the attack. Each hit was more brutal than the last, his fists catching every unprotected spot. True to his name, his footwork was quick and graceful.

  Bull tried to avoid each blow at first, but he didn’t have the energy to move fast enough. Giving up, he kept leaning forward, as if he and Astaire were in a clinch. When the bell rang again, he practically melted to the ground.

  The people on his side went wild, rushing to try to stop the bleeding while yelling advice to him.

  “Are you having fun?” Theo asked as we waited.

  “A lot of it.” I leaned back into him, loving the way he automatically wrapped his arm around me. His fingers tapped on my chest, occasionally dipping just slightly into my neckline.