Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

It wasn't until we got to my house and they guided me to my bed that I broke down in sobs.

The bed he'd made love to me on.

Well, apparently the bed he'd fucked me on.

"Shh, it's okay sweetheart," Duke soothed, wrapping his arms around me and tucking me into his chest. "You’re going to be just fine."

"I love him," I whined.

His body stilled, before he ran a hand through my hair. "I know, honey. I know you do. He's such an idiot." I vaguely knew of Sadie's sniffles behind me, where she ran a hand up and down my back supportively.

"I can never go back to school," I protested, realizing everyone had seen my very public humiliation.

"You will march your ass into that school tomorrow with your head held high and pretend you do not give the first fuck about him.” I nodded in response, but we both knew it was bullshit. I wasn't Sadie. I wasn't strong enough to pretend something like that.

We lapsed into silence, my heart hardening with every tear that fell.

I would never be heartbroken again.

No man was worth this.

One

Ivory

With the tenderloin smeared in dijon mustard and wrapped in duxelle covered prosciutto cooling in the fridge, I set to laying out my puff pastry in preparation. I rolled it, needing that perfect quarter of an inch thickness so I wouldn't overcook my beef while I waited for the pastry to bake to golden perfection.

"You're insane, you know, that right?" Sadie asked.

"And why am I insane today, my darling?" I teased her, thanking the sweet baking gods that her sense of humor had never changed.

"Why are you making a Beef Wellington again? Your food isn't usually so pretentious, even with that fancy culinary degree of yours that didn't see much use." She raised her brows at me, as if daring me to contradict her.

I used my degree.

Just not in a restaurant or catering business.

"I'm doing a new series. Kind of a food bucket list, I guess. I'm torn between calling it Food to Eat Before you Kick It or Famous Last Meals. I had readers submit the best foods they've ever eaten and made my own recipes from what they submitted." I trimmed the edges of my pastry to what I knew I would need to wrap up my beef.

Contrary to what Duke might think, I cooked a recipe at least half a dozen times before it was ready for the blog. There was a reason that I was always happy to let him taste test, and by taste test I meant eat the entire thing once I had a feel for the flavor profile I'd created.

Eating the same thing over and over was exhausting.

No matter how amazing it tasted.

"Clever," Duke chuckled, always supportive of me and my passion. Though it wasn't surprising. Sadie was my kick ass and take names best friend who ran a boxing gym. Duke was a close second for the best friend status. The dreamer of our trio, he was a successful sculptor who had somehow defied the odds and made a real career for himself in an impossible industry.

In his head, if that was possible, well then so was my blog. And it had been, the whole thing grew faster than I could handle, and I found myself overwhelmed with trying to keep up with it. But whereas working in the restaurant and running a catering business had been purely exhausting, the blog was a good stress.

It distracted me from the fact that I wasn't getting any younger. Distracted me from the fact that I still hadn't fallen in love since my sophomore year of high school. I pulled the beef from the fridge, setting the plate down next to my puff pastry on my white marble counter. I'd bought the house just outside the city for a steal, knowing it was a dump. The affordable price left me with enough in my budget to fix it up slowly as I made money. Once I'd quit my job at the restaurant, money had been inconsistent and unreliable. Whether catering or with my blog, I could easily have a slow month anytime, so keeping my monthly expenses low was critical for me.

I paid cash for just about everything I did.

Slowly, my beloved house was coming together. I finished my kitchen and master bedroom, my sanctuaries in a house that was otherwise...shit.

It was otherwise shit.

But I loved my counters, and the natural lighting was perfection for photos for the blog. "It sounds interesting, I suppose," Sadie relented, and I smiled at her teasingly. It wasn't often that she relented her somewhat more assertive opinions. From Sadie, saying it was interesting meant the idea must have rocked.