Christmas with the Boss (The Fiore Family 2)

“Nothing much, but here’s the plan.”

I listen while he explains. When he pauses, I ask, “That sounds great, but how will I get out of going with her? We spend every Christmas together.” It’s not like Isabelle to agree to it without feeling guilty.

“You can tell her you have a meeting with a client and so you can’t go on ahead, but you’ll meet her that night. I’ll pick you up after your meeting and bring you to the castle.” He takes a drink and then waits for me to respond. Can I handle being in a car with him for that long?

Nodding, I agree. “That sounds good. Do you think they’ll make it work?”

“I can only hope.” I see the sadness in his eyes. It’s there for a minute, and then something changes and he pales.

“Something wrong?” I follow his gaze and have my answer. His woman has arrived. For a moment, I almost forgot he wasn’t single.

“Oh, Fabio, there you are.” In walks the supermodel from that night. She hurries right up to the table, placing her hand—the one with a big rock on her finger—on his arm. Then she turns to me and glares.

“Malena,” Fabio growls. “What are…”

“Um…who are you, or wait…you’re the head chef. Well, if you could excuse us and get back in the kitchen.” She stares at me and Fabio growls something, but I don’t hear anything because I feel so sick.

I stand and calmly say, “I’ll send you the new look via email, and I’ll drive myself.” I storm off, knowing there’s nobody following me. As I steal a glance through the window, I see her arms around his neck.

Driving off, I let the tears fall, heart shattered. Unable to drive more than a few blocks when my tears fall like heavy rain and blur my vision, I park my car in a grocery store parking lot. It takes over an hour to calm down.

Sending his calls to voicemail five times, I get myself under control. My reaction was telling and pathetic. As soon as I get home, I rush to my bedroom and get to work. In two hours, I sent him four new mock-ups, some of the best work I’ve done. He needs to see that I’m not bothered.

An email pops up from him. There’s nothing going on between Malena and me. –Fabio

I respond back, knowing he’s lying. Not my business. –Anabelle

This time, he sends a text. We need to talk.

No, we don’t. Pick one of the designs. They’re awesome.

I’m still driving you down there. End of story.

Fuck off, I type. My hand hovers over the send button, but I chicken out and delete it, choosing not to respond at all. Instead, I power off my phone and let the weight of the night’s events wear me out until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

Chapter Four

Fabio

I’ve tried to be discreet, civil, but she doesn’t seem to get the hint. I yank her arms off me. Feeling filthy and like a total bastard, I let my temper get the better of me. “Enough,” I shout. Suddenly, eyes are on me.

Not wanting to cause a scene and definitely not wanting to be alone with this whack job, I walk her to the front of the restaurant as politely as I can. Several people take pictures, which means they will never be allowed in my restaurant again. Normally, I don’t mind, but the image could destroy any chance I have with Anabelle.

As soon as we’re on the sidewalk, I release my hand on her arm. “I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with you, Malena. I can’t fathom what makes you think that I’d change my mind.”

“Does this have to do with your chef? You’re fucking your staff,” she practically screeches, making sure everyone inside and passing by hears.

“Shut your mouth. That wasn’t my chef.”

“Bullshit, I’ve seen her before,” she says, pointing her finger into my chest. If she was a man, I would have broken it.

“No. That’s her sister, but that’s not your business either. Nothing in my life is any of your concern.”

“You couldn’t have the one, so you went after the other.”

“Bitch, I’ve had enough of you. You aren’t welcome in any of my restaurants. If I hear my name out of your mouth, in the press, or if I see you near me, I’ll make the world aware of the restraining order I have out on you.” I took it out after the whole engagement ring photo on Instagram. Fuck, I really hope Anabelle never saw that.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me. I’ve been more than fair because I don’t want my name in the dumps, but the one person whose good opinion I wanted, you ruined.”

“Why her? Why don’t you want me?” She pouts like a child, making her more repulsive to me. How can someone be so damned shallow that she needs everyone to fall in love with her. I’m not the only man. Any man who rejects her gets the whole psycho routine.