Читать книгу Passionate Chef, Ice Queen Boss / Rescued in a Wedding Dress: Passionate Chef, Ice Queen Boss / Rescued in a Wedding Dress - Cara Colter - Страница 9

‘YOU know there’ll be fallout for you once Lisa learns that you’ve moved yourself out of her villa.’ Isabella put the middle-sized suitcase of Scarlett’s set of three down in the centre of the small bedsit, and turned with raised brows to face her cousin. ‘And I’d have loved to have—’

‘I know. And…thanks. But I would have felt I was intruding.’ It was the next morning, early. Max had driven them here, helped them to unload Scarlett’s luggage, and had then disappeared with a promise to meet Isabella in the village later.

Or should Scarlett say the prince had driven the princess into town? The romance between his cousin and the reclusive prince was a little like a fairy tale. Scarlett stifled a small grin and wondered how she could be so cheerful when a part of her very much did not want to face another day at the restaurant with Lorenzo working under her nose, and making her feel uncomfortable and overly conscious of him by turns.

Not that he’d been trying to do that, to be fair. Being in contact with him had turned out to be more difficult than she had anticipated, that was all. Scarlett dumped her overnight bag and laptop case beside the suitcases. ‘It’s not up to Mum to decide where I stay while I’m working at Rosa.’ Lisa wasn’t in Monta Correnti just now anyway. ‘Though I do appreciate her inviting me to stay at her villa.’

Isabella raised her eyebrows. ‘You mean inviting you in a way you felt powerless to refuse.’

Her accompanying smile reminded Scarlett of girlhood days.

‘Maybe Mum did sort of coerce me into agreeing to stay there. But I found a way to get out of being under her scrutiny, even if it was only the second-hand scrutiny of her house staff.’ Scarlett had tugged on her ribbon before she thought about it. It was a gold and black polka-dot ribbon today, which she felt nicely offset her black and yellow A-line, knee-length linen dress.

‘And anyway, with no offence meant to anyone, I prefer to be here.’ Scarlett let her gaze rove over the room. It was small, simply furnished with a sofa that pulled out into a bed, a tiny dining table with two chairs, a kitchenette and a bathroom with a washing machine tucked behind a door at the far end.

Certainly Scarlett’s apartment back in Melbourne had been much roomier, and her mother’s villa heaps roomier again. Well, she’d sublet her apartment.

And this little bedsit tucked onto the end of a widow’s house was clean and neat and serviceable. It would meet Scarlett’s requirements for her stay in Italy. Most of all she could be private here at the end of the day. Scarlett wanted to reconnect with her family, but she needed some kind of bolt hole! ‘I need my own space sometimes, Izzie. Anyway, by the time Mum turns up again I could be halfway through my stay. What she doesn’t know…’

‘Won’t cause an outburst?’ Isabella shook her head. ‘Have you really forgotten that much of what it’s like to be part of a big family with all the related tensions and nosiness and everything else? I know you have your father and his relatives in Australia, but have you also forgotten what Lisa can be like when she unleashes her sharp tongue? Your mamma will hear about you moving out within days, if not sooner.’ A hint of annoyance leaked into Isabella’s tone.

It wasn’t directed at Scarlett, and Scarlett knew this. They were all less than happy with Lisa after the way she’d behaved towards her brother Luca recently.

‘I haven’t forgotten. Mamma hasn’t spoken with my father, even on the phone, since I turned eighteen, but I remember a few of the calls before then. Mum shouting and my father looking as though he’d like to tear his hair out by the end of it.’

Dad had made a good home for her when she decided at twelve that she wanted to go to him in Australia. It had taken time for Scarlett to let herself really love Brad Gibson. She’d been an unhappy, upset child at the time, but they’d got there. Her father was a good man.

Scarlett went on. ‘The bedsit is perfect, Izzie.’ She gestured about her. ‘It’s literally less than five minutes’ walk from Rosa.’ Scarlett walked to the opened door and glanced out. ‘In fact, you can see the restaurant from here, if you stand in the part that isn’t screened by the overhead lintel and all that flowering creeper. Anyway, shall we go? I need to get to work. I’ll unpack tonight.’

Scarlett reached once again for her laptop computer and purse. She perched a pair of sunglasses on her nose. With her eyes shielded from view she felt somewhat better.

‘I have an errand to run before I drop by the restaurant.’ Isabella gave a soft smile. ‘It’s just a little something I’m picking up. A photo of me that I had framed.’

‘To give to your prince when you meet up later?’ Scarlett asked teasingly, and smiled when Isabella blushed.

Isabella smiled, too, and while she was still smiling she said, ‘Speaking of photos, Jackie’s got heaps of her daughter now. You should—’

‘I don’t have time to look at photos.’ The rejection shot out of Scarlett’s mouth before she even realised how trapped Isabella’s suggestion had made her feel. Scarlett found it hard to think about the daughter her sister, Jackie, had given up for adoption.

Because she’d thought, and thought, and thought about it over the years and the more she did that, the deeper her guilt seemed to lodge itself. Scarlett had avoided contact with Izzie and Jackie for years because of this.

Now they were back in contact, and Scarlett did want to be closer.

But a part of her also wanted to demand to know if her cousin truly thought getting over something like that long separation and loss could be so simple for Jackie? So easy? That Scarlett’s sister would miraculously have forgotten all the years of feeling as if there’d been a hole left inside her just because now she had her lover back in her life, and some contact with her daughter, Kate? After all, Scarlett and, to a lesser degree, Isabella, had caused Jackie’s loss!

Before Scarlett could speak or do otherwise, the sound of a motorcycle echoed through the square.

‘I didn’t think he’d be in this early.’ How stupid, to get all breathless just from the sight of Lorenzo across the square. It must be because he’d made it necessary for her to assert her authority yesterday.

‘You recognise him from that distance?’ Isabella seemed surprised.

‘Who else would it be?’ Scarlett dodged having to explain that she and Lorenzo had known each other five years ago, and had more than simply known each other. They’d kept the relationship secret and Scarlett wasn’t about to reveal anything about it now. ‘I mean, he’s gone to the restaurant, it’s a man and he is reasonably recognisable even at this distance.’

‘I suppose so.’ Isabella followed Scarlett’s glance. ‘Lorenzo did well yesterday, didn’t he?’

Praise for the head chef wasn’t quite what Scarlett had been expecting. She said carefully, ‘The diners seemed happy enough with their meals.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they all would have been.’ Isabella waved a hand as though to dismiss this. ‘But I meant with that special order for lunch for twelve people. It was very last minute, but Lorenzo was sure he could pull it off. I wouldn’t have been able to. Not with the things on the menu.’

Oblivious to Scarlett’s surprise, Isabella went on. ‘The movie star was happy, though. One of the kitchen hands made the delivery and Lorenzo said at the prices he insisted on to do the catering, the restaurant will have cleaned up on it financially.’

A movie star?

A last-minute order for a special lunch for twelve people?

This was the reason why Lorenzo hadn’t come immediately to yesterday’s meeting?

Why hadn’t he said so? Scarlett stared at her cousin as yesterday’s impressions realigned themselves. ‘I wasn’t aware—’

‘I thought Lorenzo would have explained it to you. He’d just finished tempering the chocolate rolls when he asked me to take over while he had his meeting with you. I was a nervous wreck even in that short span of time. I can cope with our regular menu, but that?’ Isabella’s eyes glazed over as she started listing dishes.

‘Chocolate tart, limone mousse, a chocolate and hazelnut gateau, vanilla and raspberry chiffon cake, lime-custard-stuffed profiteroles, built into a profiterole tree if you please, and that was only one course of the menu.’ She drew a breath. ‘Even with the meeting with you in the middle of it, Lorenzo managed and got flawless results.’

‘Oh.’ Scarlett found herself in the rare position of feeling as though she hadn’t really behaved appropriately in relation to her work, that she’d perhaps brought personal issues into it and allowed those to colour her judgement. That she’d been hard on Lorenzo and hadn’t really given him a chance to explain things. That was bad management on her part, and, no matter what her personal feelings might be towards him, he’d shown dedication and commitment to Rosa.

‘Well, I’d better get going.’ Isabella gave her a quick hug again. ‘See you in a while.’ She walked off.

‘Yes. See you.’ Scarlett frowned and started towards the restaurant.

It appears I may have misjudged you yesterday, Lorenzo. Scarlett practised the words in her mind as she pushed open one of the kitchen’s swing doors. Lorenzo might have played her false five years ago, and Scarlett wasn’t about to forget that. But when Scarlett made a mistake in her work, she admitted it. Now she just had to find Lorenzo, and say those words to his face. Then she could get on with the real work of the day with her thoughts at peace.

It only took a second for Scarlett to realise that her hopes of catching Lorenzo alone were not to be. Two seconds later she comprehended that the conversation being conducted beyond a bank of open shelving was not a happy one.

Lorenzo and another male stood with their backs turned to her. They were unaware of her presence. They spoke in Italian in muted voices that seemed all the more intense for that fact. The young kitchen hand had a backpack dangling from his hand, and Lorenzo plunked two bottles of some kind of spirits down on a work surface before he turned back to the boy.

From the stiffness of Lorenzo’s back, and the guilt Scarlett could see written all over the boy even from this distance, it was clear Lorenzo had caught the young man trying to steal the bottles. What was the teenager’s name? Scarlett ran her mental list from yesterday’s ‘meet the staff’ moments. Dante…

Scarlett’s brows drew together. Was this where Rosa’s profits had gone? Taken by light fingers? She wanted to wade in, and yet something in Dante’s posture and expression, and the way Lorenzo was holding his emotions in, made her hesitate. And the boy was young. He couldn’t have worked here all that long. Certainly not long enough to sink Rosa financially through petty theft, even though this was a very serious thing to have happen.

As Scarlett stood there Lorenzo’s low words carried to her.

‘This stunt—’ He gestured towards the bottles. ‘I can’t believe you’d do such a thing. You’re not a bad boy, Dante. Not everyone on this team is here by my choice but you’re someone I’ve really wanted to keep. You try hard; you’re keen to learn. You’ve always made your shifts without any problems at all. You’ll take direction and you have a natural flair in the kitchen. You have it in you to become a good chef one day.’

‘I’m sorry. I know this was stupid. Mamma has this new boyfriend—’ The boy cut his words off abruptly and for a moment looked trapped. ‘I knew taking the bottles was wrong and I’ve never done it before. I promise you.’ The words were passionate. ‘Please, don’t fire me.’

‘You’re the only child at home, if I remember rightly?’ Lorenzo said the words as though they meant nothing, yet Scarlett could see enough from the view of his profile to understand that he wanted to know more.

‘Yes. I’m an only child.’ The boy confirmed this.

‘You took Luca’s hidden spare key yesterday and came in to steal the wine this morning.’ Lorenzo made the statement flatly. ‘Weren’t you worried I might catch you? Everyone knows I start earlier than my shifts and often work later, too.’

‘I don’t know.’ Dante shrugged skinny shoulders and then seemed to almost wince as he stopped the movement. ‘I guess I didn’t think about that.’

But Lorenzo was thinking about that.

And Scarlett thought about that.

Why would this boy, who seemed clever and capable and able to plan such a thing in the first place, plan it for this late in the morning?

If a part of Dante had hoped to be caught, then Scarlett was inclined to believe he hadn’t done this before and hadn’t really wanted to do it now. Was his behaviour a cry for help?

Even so, how to deal with such a thing? Should she step forward? Intervene? Before Scarlett could decide or announce her presence, Lorenzo spoke again.

‘Trouble in here is the last thing I need right now, Dante. The last thing any of us needs.’ He tugged his chef’s jacket into order. ‘Our new financial manager will want an accounting of every Euro that comes and goes in this kitchen. You couldn’t have picked a worse time to try to steal.’

The boy looked stricken. ‘If you speak with her—’

‘She may be just as cold about this as her mother would be. Scarlett Gibson is Lisa Firenzi’s daughter. Don’t think for a moment that Scarlett isn’t equally capable of the same level of business-minded lack of emotion.’ He drew a breath. ‘I don’t know if I can protect you from where Scarlett might want to take this.’

Until then the boy had still maintained a small amount of youthful expectation that the ‘real grown-up’—in this case, Lorenzo—would be able to fix this for him. That expectation faded to outright concern now.

In tandem with Dante’s reaction, anger inside Scarlett began to bubble up. So she was the ogre of the piece now? The one who could single-handedly destroy this boy, who clearly simply needed someone to help him get back on a straight path?

Scarlett would have Lorenzo know that she had…Never dealt with anything quite like this.

Scarlett drew a deep breath, but it still didn’t help her to dispense with the tight ache in the middle of her chest that had come from Lorenzo saying she was cold.

Could he really believe Scarlett could have no feelings for those around her?

Scarlett’s hand crept up to touch her ribbon, to let her fingers absorb its soft feel.

She wasn’t like that. Not really. Not deep down inside herself, and Lorenzo had known her well enough to know that. Scarlett hated that this man still had the power to cause her hurt. She’d healed from that. She’d moved on whether she now happened to be back in his actual realm of existence, or not.

‘You won’t get another warning.’ Lorenzo glared at the boy. ‘I won’t discuss this with Scarlett at this stage, but don’t break the rules here again. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes. We’re clear. I’m sorry.’

‘You’ve got a chance to straighten yourself out, Dante. Don’t mess it up, okay?’ Lorenzo reached out to lay his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

They’d both turned as they spoke, so Scarlett clearly saw the flinch, quickly disguised as a shrug when Lorenzo’s hand landed on the boy’s shoulder.

What—?

‘You’re bruised. What happened?’ Lorenzo’s brows drew down as his gaze examined Dante’s shoulder where his shirt had pulled open a little.

And Lorenzo’s expression was really odd. His face had paled. He looked sick. He had an expression in his eyes that Scarlett had…seen before? Why did that expression look like concern…and some kind of shame?

‘I went mountain cycling. I fell off.’ The boy uttered the words in a rapid stream as he tugged his shirt back into place. ‘On the weekend. I fell into a bush.’

The words were so clearly a lie. But…why?

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed before he hurriedly rearranged his face into a mask of agreement. ‘Injuries can happen in all sorts of ways.’

Like Lorenzo getting bruised and scratched falling from his motorcycle. He hadn’t owned it long when Scarlett met him, and he’d told her while they were seeing each other that he’d taken several spills.

But Dante—Dante was hiding some kind of physical damage that he didn’t want to tell the truth about, that hadn’t happened riding his bike in the mountains.

Dante was unhappy at home suddenly. Unhappy enough that he’d resorted to stealing with the intention of drinking his unhappiness away?

Was Lorenzo thinking what Scarlett was thinking? Was that why Lorenzo looked sick to his heart?

‘You’re growing up, Dante.’ Lorenzo said this with a careful air of mild interest. ‘Maybe you should think about moving out of home, spread your wings a little, eh?’ He forced a laugh. ‘You might meet a nice girl. You won’t want to have your mamma looking over your shoulder when you do that.’ He drew a breath. ‘In fact, I know of a woman who takes in boarders. If they’re willing to help her out around the place she’ll board them cheaply.’

‘I’d be interested, if I could afford it.’ The boy all but jumped on the suggestion. ‘If she didn’t want too much.’

Lorenzo shrugged as though he’d already lost most of his interest in the topic. ‘She’s always up early. You could see her now, before you have to come back for your shift later.’

Dante nodded. ‘Yes, that would be good, if I could see her now.’

‘I’ll write the name and address down for you.’ Lorenzo walked to the bench and took an order pad and stub of pencil and started to scribble on it.

Scarlett realised her presence would be noted very soon if she didn’t move. It was too late to disappear so her best bet was to pretend she was just arriving. She gave the door a push behind her and allowed it to bump against her back.

A couple of noisy steps forward and both their heads turned. Chirpiness was beyond her. Lorenzo’s hurtful words still echoed inside her, as did concern for Dante. Scarlett felt sick, too. If Dante was being abused, that was a terrible thing.

‘Lorenzo.’ She nodded towards Dante, too, but for his sake didn’t make any attempt at eye contact before she turned back to the head chef.

‘I just thought I’d let you know my plans for today. I want to observe, speak with employees as I see fit, and start my study of the account books.’ There would be times they would have to liaise, but Scarlett had made the decision in the past few minutes to ensure those times were kept to the absolute minimum.

Let Lorenzo think she was cold and emotionless and say ‘just like her mother’. Scarlett knew her heart. She wasn’t about to let Lorenzo stomp all over it, though! ‘Please ensure any receipts, requisitions forms and any other money-related paperwork you might have lying around is delivered to my office. Can you do that before noon?’

She’d intended to apologise for yesterday’s assumptions about his work commitments. A concession to his need for time was the closest he would now get.

Lorenzo’s gaze locked on her face and searched her eyes, her expression. Scarlett knew what he would see. She’d seen it enough times herself in a mirror. A somewhat different version of Lisa’s facial features in full chill-mode. How else could she protect herself?

Scarlett heaved a deep breath and slowly released it.

‘I’ll bring you everything I have.’ Lorenzo handed the written note to Dante, but his gaze didn’t leave Scarlett’s face. ‘Did you hear—?’

‘Thank you. I’ve only just arrived but I really need to get to work so I hope you’ll understand if I don’t hang about right now. Excuse me.’ She walked away before Lorenzo could do a thing about it. Not that she wanted to speak to the man now.

He might have helped Dante, and Scarlett was genuinely glad this had happened. By the sounds of it the boy needed all the help he could get.

But Lorenzo had also said some cutting things about Scarlett’s personality in the process.

She didn’t feel like dwelling on that, or discussing it, or anything else other than getting on with the job here and ignoring the existence of one Lorenzo Nesta and his capacity to upset her.

He shouldn’t even possess that capacity.

Not at all any more!