Ingredients to Love

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  Her entire family turned on her, and then to top it off, they bad-mouthed her friends, the people she loved, and when she had been drugged and her cousins came to see her, her parents and brothers reprimanded her more so and told her she should stay away from criminals and whores. Alessa’s friends were her family. She couldn’t have survived Calvin cheating on her or not having her friends supporting her while she studied and took the Bar exam despite not wanting to and passed. Alessa didn’t even tell her parents. No, she would use that one at a later date to shock them.

  She looked at the envelope. Her funds were getting low. She could maintain the small apartment and her lifestyle just fine, but putting away more money to save for her own business was becoming difficult to keep up with. She needed more money. She was tired, too. The Sunday job was a killer, but it was her means to make more cash for the dream fund.

  Alessa tapped the envelope against her lip and then glanced at the clock. It was time to head to the restaurant. God, she was tired and she didn’t even go to work yet. What she would do for a day off to just sleep and not have a care in the world, but that wasn’t an option. At night she struggled to sleep, her mind on bills, on ways to get more money, and then as she drifted off in exhaustion came the nightmares. Being taken, drugged, and having men touch her, forcing themselves on her, filled her nightmares. Meanwhile, nothing ever happened. Her friends, Alda, and the men had saved her in time, but it was the not knowing, the way her mind processed it all as more failures on her part kept the demons in her head. If she got a few hours of sleep a night it was decent.

  She sat up and glanced at the newspaper and the numerous highlighted and circled ads about buildings for sale. Small ones in decent neighborhoods she felt she could make it in. She needed big money to open up in a better, high traffic area, but she couldn’t afford that.

  She exhaled.

  A pipe dream. Maybe it was just a pipe dream and now it was time to move on to reality. She thought about that as she grabbed her purse, the backpack, and her pastry chef attire. No. I’m not giving up. I will have that place one day and I will finally feel good about myself, and not like some loser like my family thinks I am.

  Chapter One

  “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!”

  Cobra grabbed the man by his throat and held him up against the wall. “You will fucking tell me or I’ll leave you here to take full responsibility for this mess.”

  “Please, man, I’ll tell you everything. Shit, I didn’t know that the truck belonged to the Fiorre family. That wasn’t what I was told.”

  “Who told you to hit this shipment?” Ziek asked, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed while Cobra did the heavy work. Cobra put the fear of God in the guy and Ziek bent down and picked up the black backpack on the ground. Ziek looked through the bag the guy had on him. Multiple rolls of money and a book with addresses was inside.

  “What the fuck is this shit?” Ziek asked him.

  “Not mine. I’m delivering that, too. I had to pick it up for the same person who wanted this truck of stuff,” the guy told them.

  Ziek exhaled.

  “Roland, this isn’t our first night on the job. I mean come on, man, we’re right fucking here,” Ziek said.

  “Men have died for less,” Cobra told Roland through clenched teeth. He still had him up against the wall.

  “Don’t kill me. If I knew this truck was yours, I never would have agreed to do the hit.”

  “Bullshit. What dumbass even suggested that you try and rip us off?” Cobra asked.

  Roland shook his head. “He’ll kill me.”

  Cobra gripped the guy’s neck tighter, making him cough.

  “And you don’t think I will?” Cobra asked.

  Cobra slowly lowered the guy down and released him.

  “Alvarez Colon. He said it would be easy. That no one is ever around securing this location. That your bosses are so big now that they slack in their security.”

  “Really?” Cobra asked, but Ziek didn’t say a word. The only reason why they were here tonight was because of the multiple times the place had been robbed. They hadn’t known about it until recently, and Collin and Fedarro were pissed. Turned out to be an inside job. That guy was no longer going to be a problem. Cobra was pissed, though. When they caught the guy, he took a shot at Cobra and nicked his cheek good. It was cut and bruised. Cobra was in a foul mood.

  “Well, this little free supply is officially closed down. Now, what do we do with you?” Ziek asked.

  “Send him to Alvarez Colon in a fucking body bag,” Cobra said through clenched teeth. His brother was pissed, and he couldn’t blame him. This bullshit was below them. There were other people who worked for Fedarro and Collin that could have done what they did, but lately Cobra was feeling restless and ready for a fight. He needed to blow off some steam, and boy did he on the other idiot. Ziek hid his smirk.

  “No. No, you said you wouldn’t kill me if I talked. Please, whatever you want I’ll do. Just don’t kill me.”

  Ziek looked into the bag and saw that there was a large amount of rolled up hundred dollar bills, amounting around the hundred thousand range or maybe more. That was a lot of fucking money to be carrying around in a backpack. Where the fuck did it come from?

  “How much do you think they got in free shit over the last few months?” he asked Cobra.

  “Too much,” Cobra said. Ziek brought the bag over to his brother and let him look inside.

  “You think this might cover enough to appease the bosses? Because otherwise, they’re going to want bodies,” Ziek said, messing with the guy and making him sweat.

  “No, oh God, no. Not the Fiorre brothers. Oh God, I’m going to die. Shit. I didn’t know it was your place. I didn’t know anything. It was part of an initiation into to the gang.”

  “What gang would that be?” Ziek asked, opening up the book log in the bag. He noticed the street addresses, and what looked to be a log of money collected. What the hell was this shit? Could it have something to do with the problems that were arising with some business they and their bosses were working on? The addresses matched some of the locations where they recently purchased real estate as investment. They were planning on revamping those neighborhoods and cleaning them up. Ziek would need to talk to Collin and to see how they wanted to handle this. In the meantime, they had to make sure this guy went back and told Alvarez Colon that he had been put on notice.

  “Alvarez needs to know who runs this city. It sure as shit isn’t him. We’ll let you live, but you need to make sure he understands the seriousness of what he has done. Cobra, just don’t kill him.”

  “Seriously? But I’ve been itching for some blood.”

  “I know, take it easy. I want him to be able to speak and think coherently when he goes back to his buddy and explains things.”

  “No promises,” Cobra said, and slugged the guy in the stomach.

  They weren’t going to kill him, but they needed to send a message to Alvarez to let him know whatever he was brewing, he’d better call it off before things turned bad. For Alvarez.

  * * * *

  Alessa wiped her brow with the sleeve of her shirt as she prepared the final set of desserts. Some special guests of their boss were at the restaurant. Her boss, Michelangelo, insisted that she prepare something special. She was lost in preparation, enjoying creating what she was certain would be a fabulous attack on the taste buds. As she watched the platter disappear with Romando, one of the main waiters at the restaurant, he winked and she smiled, then wiped her hands on the towel.

  “They will love it, Alessa. No worries at all,” the head chef, Peter, told her. She cleaned up her station and started thinking about the ride on the bus and the subway home. It would be late by the time she got to her apartment, showered, and got into bed. Then she would start all over again. She wiped down the station and put all her supplies away.

  “Alessa,” Romando called to her from the doorway with a smile. “They were impressed. Michela
ngelo wants you to come out to say hello.”

  She exhaled. She undid the apron and smoothed out the white chef outfit.

  “Don’t forget the hat, gorgeous,” Chef Peter teased and winked. She shook her head and laughed. It was all a show. Like most of the places when customers wanted to meet the chef, or pastry chef in this case, to compliment them personally, they were required to go out in full professional attire and basically comply. She made sure that her hair was in place in the nice tight bun she wore, and checked her makeup, then added the hat, took a deep breath, and headed out the door.

  The moment she laid eyes on the table of three men, her stomach clenched. They were gorgeous, well dressed, and looked serious as she approached.

  “Here she is. Ms. Preston,” Michelangelo introduced her to the men.

  The one in the center, leaning back, held her gaze as he brought one last piece of the chocolate square to his lips. The others complimented the dessert and asked how she came up with the idea. She made up some story of imported ingredients as Michelangelo preferred and then excused herself to get back to the kitchen. A glance over her shoulder and the man at the table that didn’t say a word, rose from his seat. As she came around the corner, she stopped in her tracks. There stood Calvin with a tall, skinny blonde with her hand on his chest and giggling. He locked gazes with her, looked her over, and chuckled.

  “Alessa, my, I didn’t know you worked here,” he said to her and the blonde stopped smiling and looked at Alessa like she was shit. Alessa wished she was dressed like she used to dress for the club scene and hanging with friends. Calvin would be drooling right now.

  She swallowed her anger and disgust.

  “Yes, I have been for a while now. I was just visiting a table of guests.”

  “That must stink. You look healthy,” he said, but he stared at her body like he was saying she was fat. Which she wasn’t at all. The clothing was baggy and meant to be comfortable, not to show off her figure. She thought about his comment to her about staying home and cooking for him but never getting fat. Her temper flared.

  “Well, we’re heading out to do some dancing and meet with other attorneys. I just had a quick meeting with some potential clients. Roxanne here was a fabulous asset to the business dinner. She knew just what to say and how to act,” he said and stroked the woman’s jaw. The slut pressed her breasts closer to Calvin’s chest, and she licked her lips and stared up at him like he was a god. Dimwit.

  “Wonderful,” she said and swallowed hard. Calvin looked good. He wore a designer suit, had diamond cuff links on his sleeves, and the woman he was with wore a very large emerald necklace around her neck. Not fake, that was for sure.

  He made a funny noise as he threw daggers at her. “A pastry chef. What a waste,” he said and walked away, stopping a moment as one of the guys whose table she just visited stopped him, saying something about talking to him in a few days. So these men were the ones Calvin met. That would have been her all dolled up and playing a role as the good girlfriend. Except Alessa had brains as well as a decent body. Well, maybe a bit thinner lately with all the stress, but still she was in great shape. She stared at the blonde flirting with the other guy, too. Never. Whatever. The jerk, and how sarcastic he sounded as he said pastry chef and chuckled. Asshole.

  Alessa felt the tears hit her eyes, and then the anger took over. She stuck her tongue out and flipped him the bird. When she turned around, she bumped into the customer she had just went to visit at the table moments before. The one who didn’t say a word but took a bite of the chocolate she created. Her jaw dropped, her face flushed, and he raised one of his eyebrows at her then chuckled.

  “I…uhm…” she stuttered.

  “He was an asshole,” he said to her, and she was shocked. He and his friends or associates had a business dinner with Calvin and the bimbo. Yikes. Why did she let him get to her? She laughed.

  “You have no idea, sir,” she said, and started to walk past him when he touched her hand. She froze in place. He held her gaze. The man was gorgeous, older, with a bit of gray by his ears, but had bold, blue eyes. Eyes that, right now, stared so intently at her that she shivered. He looked over her face, her lips, then back to her eyes again before squinting.

  “The dessert was exceptional, Ms. Preston.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate the compliment.”

  “Michelangelo said that you’re finished for the night. How about a drink?” he asked.

  She felt her cheeks warm. She lowered her eyes and he cleared his throat.

  “The night is young, and you look like you could use one.”

  “Oh really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows up at him.

  He chuckled. “Not that you look bad or anything, just annoyed with seeing Calvin. I know I had an additional drink as he spewed his bullshit,” he told her, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Not surprising,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as if to see if Calvin were still there. He made her feel sick, yet also not good enough.

  “I’ll meet you by the bar,” he stated, and narrowed his eyes at her, making her get the feeling that the man was important and expected people to do as he said. She didn’t really drink anymore and was so distrusting.

  “Is there a problem, Roberto?” Michelangelo asked, interrupting them. So the guy’s name was Roberto.

  “I don’t think there is, unless Ms. Preston declines my invite for a drink.”

  “Don’t be silly, of course she’ll stay and have a drink with you. Alessa,” Michelangelo said her name and raised both eyebrows at her as if in warning.

  She stared at him. “Let me just change and grab my things.”

  “Wonderful,” Roberto said, and smiled softly before walking away.

  Michelangelo walked with Alessa.

  “That’s Roberto Simi, a very wealthy, prominent business man. He also has investment in my restaurant, so please, Alessa, don’t piss him off. He can be extreme,” he told her, and then looked at her face for some sort of response in a strange way as she entered the kitchen.

  She felt uneasy, and she had been out of the whole having a drink with a guy thing. She was actually more concerned over a drink being made for her than talking to the good looking older man. Were his two friends going to be there, too? Now she felt nervous.

  As she gathered her things and reapplied some lip gloss, she checked out the very plain, white button down blouse she wore and the black hip hugger pants. The required dress code under the chef attire. She wasn’t wearing heels, just flat, good supporting shoes in black that she could wear walking here as well as working on her feet all night.

  She said goodnight to everyone, and then headed out to the bar with her backpack and other bag. Romando stopped her on her way, just as the three men caught her heading their way and watched.

  “Hey, got any plans Saturday night?” he asked her, surprising her.

  She chuckled. “Are you kidding me? You know the hours I work.”

  His gaze swept over her body then her face, and smiled softly. “You know what they say about all work and no play?” he asked.

  She smirked. “Yeah, except I live in the realities of life. Have fun, whatever you do,” she said, and he squinted at her like she insulted him, but it was better to let him off like that then lead the guy on. She knew he had a thing for her, but he was younger by a couple of years and studying to be some sort of musician or something.

  “My jazz band is playing at Oliva on Saturday night. You mentioned wanting to hear us, and I thought maybe you would stop by. I think some of the other staff are going after work.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll see if I have the energy for it. I’m always so tired.”

  “You work another job right?” he asked, and she looked past him.

  “Yes. I need to go over and have a drink with a customer.”

  Romando looked back that way. “The big shots who had some business meeting or something? Man, those guys were intense. The other guy with the blond
e was getting reamed out. They seem important and fierce. Be careful. They may be looking for some booty,” he teased and winked at her. As she started walking away he looked at her ass.

  “Nice.”

  She shook her head and dismissed his flirting like she did automatically now. When she looked up toward the bar, one of the men was standing, but all three looked pissed. She swallowed hard. As she approached she gave a smile and put her bags onto the empty chair.

  Roberto was staring at Romando, giving him a dirty mean expression as he pressed his hand to her back and offered her a seat at the bar. It was weird, like he was jealous or pissed that Romando was flirting.

  “I ordered wine, hope that is okay,” he said to her, and she looked at the glass, placing her hand over her belly. The thoughts of the night at the club and what she couldn’t remember hit her. A simple thing like a drink at the bar, a distraction and someone could put something in a woman’s drink and she wouldn’t know a thing.

  “Is something wrong? You don’t like wine?” he asked.

  She worried her bottom lip and then waved at the bartender, Paulo. He came over smiling. “Hi Alessa, what do you need?”

  “Can you pour me a glass of wine?” she asked and he looked at the glass squinted and then nodded as he smiled. Her co-workers and bosses knew she had been drugged. She missed a couple of days of work and should have taken more time off but she needed the money. He passed her the glass of wine and she thanked him and then smiled.

  Roberto looked at her strangely, but raised his glass, so did the other two men.

  “To dessert,” he said, and she laughed and then they clinked glasses.