by Janice Sims
She was wearing a velvet Santa hat, a belted dress that skimmed her knees and stilettos. Her sexy, fitted outfit made his mouth water. She was comfortable in her skin, and it showed. All of the servers were wearing velvet hats and Christmas-themed outfits, but Elise was the only one who took his breath away.
Images of their first kiss played in his mind and his temperature rose about a hundred degrees. He remembered the softness of her lips, the delicious taste of her mouth, the smell of her floral fragrance and how she’d tenderly stroked his neck, her touch arousing him. For the past forty-eight hours, he’d thought of Elise and nothing else. But Giovanni was determined to put their kiss out of his head—at least during the Holiday Cocktail Party.
The hostess appeared, took his coat from his hands and disappeared into the crowd. The men were in designer suits, the women were in formal attire and several couples of Asian descent were wearing traditional clothing. Guests kissed under the mistletoe, danced cheek-to-cheek and snapped selfies in front of the towering Christmas tree.
Making his way through the lobby, Giovanni smiled at guests, shook hands and posed for pictures with friends and associates, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Elise. She sashayed around the lobby with a smile on her lips, a silver tray in her hands and a bounce in her step. He noticed several Hollywood actors checking out the curvy executive chef. And Giovanni didn’t blame them. Energetic, gregarious and lively, Elise was the life of the party. When she breezed by him, humming along with the upbeat Christmas song playing on the sound system, he felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her again, even though he knew Rosario would kill him on the spot. Elise had an attention-grabbing presence, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to pull her into his arms.
A loud, hearty laugh drowned out the music, drawing Giovanni’s eyes across the room. Fashionably dressed in a velvet burgundy suit, Jonas swaggered around the lobby, flirting with socialites and Instagram models. Wanting to know more about his favorite chef, Giovanni made a mental note to pull Jonas aside to ask him about Elise’s personal life.
Last night in bed, he’d checked out her social media pages. Her online profiles were filled with her favorite recipes, pictures of the entrées and desserts she’d recently made, and photographs of her parents. For several seconds, he’d peered at the screen. Elise was the same height and complexion as her father, but she was the spitting image of her mother. Questions had crowded his mind. Had Elise ever dated outside her race? Would her parents like him, or think he was a conceited athlete who didn’t deserve their daughter?
Giovanni shook his head to clear his thoughts. Glancing around the lobby, he realized his mother was standing in front of the Christmas tree with several family friends, and cringed. He was so busy ogling Elise, he hadn’t even noticed his mother was at the party, and felt guilty for overlooking her. Crossing the room, he licked his lips. The scent of spiced wine and dark chocolate sweetened the air; if Giovanni wasn’t following a strict healthy diet, he would have sampled every item at the food table.
“I was hoping you’d be here.” Flashing a smile, he hugged his mom and kissed her on each cheek. “Mom, you look incredible, and your haircut really suits you.”
“I know,” Constanza Castillo cooed, fervently nodding. “Everyone says my new hairstyle makes me look like the Argentine version of Marilyn Monroe, and I agree!”
Giovanni tried to restrain his laughter, but a chuckle shot out of his mouth like a blast from a gun. His mom was a petite, overweight housewife with a thick Spanish accent. The only thing she had in common with the iconic actress was her gender.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked, searching the lobby for Vincente.
“At home taking a nap. He’d planned to come, but once he had lunch and took his pain medication, he was out like a light. I didn’t have the heart to wake him up.”
His surprise must have showed on his face, because his mom wagged a finger at him.
“Your dad needs his rest,” she scolded, a note of frustration in her voice. “Vincente isn’t a young man anymore and he just doesn’t have the energy to keep on top of things like he used to. Contrary to what everyone thinks, he’s not Superman...”
A lump formed in his throat. He turned her words over in his mind, listening quietly to what his mother had to say. These days, all his family wanted to talk about was his father’s health, the ongoing struggles of Castillo Enterprises, and Giovanni’s responsibilities as the eldest child and only son. No one asked him what he wanted, and he didn’t feel comfortable confiding in his mother about his inner turmoil. Next Friday, he had another appointment with his neurologist and, if everything went according to plan, he’d be one step closer to leaving for Argentina and resuming his career.
“I know you love traveling the world playing polo, but it’s time you step up and take your rightful place in the business,” she continued with a nod. “Son, we’re counting on you.”
But I’m not the heart and soul of the company! Rosario is, and she should be named CEO, not me. Getting through to his mom was an uphill battle Giovanni didn’t have the energy to fight. There’d be plenty of time to discuss his future plans, and what should be done to help his dad with the day-to-day operations of Castillo Enterprises, when Vincente decided to retire. Swallowing a yawn, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his neck. Anxious about his upcoming doctor’s appointment, he hadn’t slept well all week.
“Son, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me you’re fine, because it’s obvious you’re not.” Frowning, Constanza cupped his chin in her hand and studied him, as if he were a specimen under a microscope. “Tell Mama what’s wrong. I’m listening.”
“Mom, it’s nothing.” A server approached and Giovanni inspected the items on his silver tray. Forgetting his diet, he took a glass of wine and a plate topped with appetizers. “I’ve been binge-watching La Casa de Papel. That’s why I’m so tired.”
“Alone?” she prodded, raising an eyebrow. “Or with one of your many female fans?”
Pretending he didn’t hear the question, Giovanni tasted a garlic-Parmesan beignet. It melted in his mouth and he groaned in appreciation. Seasoned with bold spices that his taste buds enjoyed immensely, it whet his appetite and he finished everything on his plate in seconds. Helping himself to more, Giovanni marveled at the delicious pistachio cheeseballs. They were soft and succulent, and he wanted more. Elise wasn’t afraid to try new things or to experiment in the kitchen, and all of the appetizers he’d sampled were exceptional. He wanted to tell Elise how much he’d enjoyed her cooking, but she was deep in conversation with a music mogul and Giovanni didn’t want to interrupt them.
“Rosario introduced me to the new executive chef, Elise Jennings. Interesting choice, son.”
“Don’t look at me. I had nothing to do with it. Your daughter hired her, not me.”
“If you say so, but remember, this is a place of business and not your bachelor pad.”
Giovanni drank his wine. He was annoyed by his mom’s comment but didn’t respond. For the second time in minutes, his gaze strayed to his favorite chef. Elise garnered more attention than a presidential motorcade, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He’d hemmed and hawed about attending the Holiday Cocktail Party, but Giovanni was glad he’d showed up. Watching Elise in action, socializing, mingling and serving the club’s guests, was the highlight of his day. Elise needed her own reality TV show, and he wouldn’t be surprised if one of the network executives at the party offered her a deal on the spot.
“I believe in looking forward, and God knows I’m not one to dwell on the past, but need I remind you about how you met Marisol, and how your ill-fated union embarrassed our family?”
No, I’m well aware of what a screw-up I am in your eyes. He gestured to a server, put his empty glass and plate on her tray, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Hanging his head, his thoughts drifted back to three years earlier.
&n
bsp; He’d hooked up with his personal assistant, Marisol, and even though his friends and family thought the former beauty queen was the wrong woman for him, he’d pursued her relentlessly. Dating her had been a mistake, but not because she was his employee. She’d fooled him into believing she was a homebody who loved to cook, sew and garden, but after they eloped and moved into his villa in Buenos Aires, he’d seen another side to her—an ugly, vindictive side that he disliked.
His mom jabbed him in the arm with her elbow and Giovanni snapped to attention.
“Son, you’re older and wiser now, so I expect a lot more from you when it comes to how you interact with your female employees. You have to think with your brain and not your—”
“Mom, I have to go,” he said, interrupting her. “Since Dad’s not here, I have to ensure I socialize with our guests and explain what services and opportunities we offer here at the club.”
Constanza beamed. “That’s my boy! But remember what I said. Elise Jennings is an employee, not your office plaything, so treat her with respect or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Giovanni dodged his mother’s gaze. Shame burned his skin and the weight of his guilt felt heavier than an anchor around his neck. He had a terrible habit of living in the moment, of doing whatever he pleased, but if he wanted to make his parents proud—and avoid his mother’s wrath—he’d have to ignore his feelings for Elise. She’d caught his eye without even trying and, although he desired her more than anything, he was determined not to act on his impulses again.
But as he watched Elise waltz with a silver-haired oil tycoon, Giovanni realized it was going to be impossible to resist the Southern beauty with the dazzling smile.
* * *
“We need more Swedish meatballs and coconut shrimp, pronto!” Elise yelled, entering the sweltering kitchen. “Come on, people. Let’s make it happen. We have a roomful of guests who paid big bucks to attend this cocktail party, and we can’t disappoint them.”
Working fast, Elise transferred the lemon-flavored biscotti from the metal baking sheets to the wooden cutting board, and chopped them into squares. She drizzled glazed sugar on top, along with a dash of cinnamon. Sweating profusely in her velvet outfit, Elise longed for an ice-cold drink, but there was no time for a break. She couldn’t think of anything worse than running out of food during the party, so she yanked open the fridge, grabbed the items she needed and whipped up another batch of bacon-wrapped apricot bites.
Hearing the distant sound of music and boisterous laughter brought a smile to Elise’s mouth as she worked. By all accounts, the event was a success. While serving the mayor and his wife drinks, he’d said the party was one of the best events he’d ever attended at the Hamptons Polo Club. Elise was so moved by his words, tears of joy had filled her eyes. From the time the party had started, her staff had been professional, polite and attentive to guests, and when the night was over, she planned to commend them on a job well done.
Grabbing silver trays off the counter, Elise filled them with peppermint fudge, tree-shaped brownies and chocolate-cranberry mini cakes. Instructing servers to grab a dessert tray and return to the party, she remembered there was peanut brittle cooling on top of the oven, and marched toward the stove. Retrieving the large baking sheets, Elise broke the candy into pieces, filled the decorative Christmas containers to the brim and asked a server to put them on the food tables.
“The meatballs are ready to serve!” Antoine called, mopping his brow with his palm.
“Thanks, Antoine! You’re a lifesaver!” Elise grabbed the tray off the stove and headed through the kitchen, pleased that her staff was working hard. For the past two hours, they’d been running back and forth, serving Christmas-themed drinks, appetizers and desserts, and Elise was thrilled about the compliments she’d received from the guests.
“Hurry back,” Antoine said, gesturing to the stove with a flick of his head. “The coconut shrimp and sausage-stuffed jalapeños will be finished in ten minutes, so don’t get carried away socializing. Remember, you’re the executive chef, not a waitress.”
Without breaking her stride, she continued into the lobby. Antoine was mad at her because she’d defied his orders, but Elise didn’t care. Wanting to make her presence known at the club, she’d offered to help the waitstaff serve guests during the cocktail party, but Antoine had refused, insisted her place was in the kitchen. Thankfully, Rosario had disagreed with him. All afternoon, she’d introduced her to members and celebrities, and Elise had enjoyed meeting the city’s wealthiest, most revered citizens—and watching Giovanni on the sly.
At the thought of him, Elise sucked in a breath. Forty-eight hours later, she was still reeling from their kiss and yearning for more. He’d arrived at the party fashionably late, and the moment she’d seen him, she’d lost her train of thought. It was hard to keep up her end of the conversation with the cast of the hit reality TV show Dating in the City and watch Giovanni at the same time. His designer ensemble made him look like a boss, like the kind of man used to calling the shots and having his way.
Giovanni can have his way with me any day of the week! quipped her inner voice.
Entering the lobby, Elise was swarmed by guests who hungrily licked their lips as she served them appetizers. She saw Sariah and Paige approach Giovanni, and narrowed her gaze. Why were her girlfriends talking to Giovanni? Deciding to find out, Elise adjusted her Santa hat and smoothed a hand over her wavy hair, hoping it didn’t look as lifeless as it felt.
Someone poked Elise’s shoulder and she turned around, wearing a bright smile.
“The mocha-chocolate cupcakes are everything,” the brunette gushed, licking the icing off the dessert in her bejeweled hand. “They’re scrumptious and oh-so-divine!”
Elise enjoyed watching guests eat her cooking, got a kick out of seeing their eyes light up and the blissful expression on their faces as they savored each delicious morsel. “I’m glad you like them. It was my mother’s recipe and they’re one of my favorite desserts, too.”
“Do you cater? Name your price and I’ll pay.” Devouring the cupcake, the brunette grabbed another one from a waiter passing by with a tray of desserts and admired the candy decorations on top of it. “I’m hosting my sister’s bachelorette party at my East Hampton estate on February ninth, and I want you to prepare the food.”
“I have a better idea. Book one of the club’s private rooms and customize the menu.” Leaning forward, Elise shielded her mouth with her hands and spoke in a quiet voice. “I hate to brag, but my steak short ribs are out of this world, and have made grown men weep tears of joy!”
“Everything Elise makes is incredible, and I should know. She’s my favorite chef.”
Demi and Chase appeared, wearing broad smiles, and Elise hugged them.
“Girl, you look sensational,” Elise praised, admiring her friend’s stylish maternity dress. “Your skin is radiant and you’re positively glowing.”
“Thanks, Elise. Everyone says pregnancy agrees with me, but I beg to differ. My back hurts, my sides ache and, for some strange reason, my skin is itchy.”
Chase kissed her forehead. “Hang in there, baby. Only one more month to go.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one with swollen feet and nonstop heartburn.” Rubbing her baby bump, Demi sighed as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I swear, after our daughters are born and I get my push gift from Lamborghini, I’m closing up shop!”
Laughing, Elise discreetly checked her watch, realized it was time to return to the kitchen and excused herself from the conversation. But before she could leave, Rosario grabbed her arm and led her over to the Christmas tree.
Elise hated being put on the spot, and feared that Rosario was going to ask her to address the crowd. The kitchen was her refuge, her favorite place in the club, and Elise wished she could escape there now, before her nerves got the best of her and
she tripped over her tongue. To make matters worse, Giovanni strode over, rested a hand on the small of her back and stared at her in admiration. Goose bumps pricked her skin and her legs wobbled, but Elise returned his smile. She didn’t know what had gotten into him, but she liked it, and hoped he saw her as an ally now rather than a liability.
Oh, please, argued her inner voice. All you care about is seeing him naked!
“This has been an incredible evening, and I want to thank you all for attending The Hamptons Polo Club’s first annual Holiday Cocktail Party,” Rosario said, raising her voice to be heard over the chatter in the lobby.
“And,” Giovanni added, emphasizing the word, “we’d like to recognize and give special thanks to Ms. Elise Jennings, our dynamic new executive chef, and her talented team.”
Guests whistled and cheered as if they were watching a World Series game at Yankee Stadium, and Giovanni led the charge. Bowing her head in gratitude, Elise smiled at the crowd. Her gaze fell across Antoine, and her body tensed. His mouth was a hard line, and his arms were folded. No doubt, he was angry at her for not returning to the kitchen as instructed, and Elise owed him an apology.
“We want you to eat and drink and dance the night away,” Rosario announced. “This is your club, your home away from home, and we want you to party like there’s no tomorrow!”
Elise spotted a familiar face in the lobby and froze. It can’t be him, she thought, peering into the crowd to get a better look at the gentleman in the black pin-striped suit. Elise told herself she was being paranoid, that the stranger wasn’t the person who’d attacked her on the Fourth of July, but her fears intensified with each passing second. Resting a hand on her chest to calm her erratic heartbeat, Elise hightailed it out of the lobby as fast as her red-heeled stilettos could take her and dashed into the kitchen.
Chapter 11
Loosening the knot on his charcoal-gray tie, Giovanni staggered into his office, slammed the door shut and dropped onto the leather couch. He pressed his eyes shut. Swallowing hard to alleviate the lump in his throat, Giovanni wished the voices in his head would stop tormenting him. This isn’t real, he thought, fervently shaking his head. Haven’t I done enough? Lost enough? What more do I need to do to get my life back?
