“Well, I'm never going to hear from them again. Good riddance,luridi porci,” I muttered as I headed for the bus stop. “Filthy pigs!”
A group of tourists looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need Antonio’s. There were lots of opportunities for experience-less cooks like myself. My throat constricted just thinking the lie. I’d almost talked myself into believing I didn’t even want the job when Collin called the next day and shocked me to my core with an offer.
I probably should have turned him down.
CHAPTER THREE
Dominico
“SHE’S PERFECT,” I said, the minute Frank escorted the beautiful, fiery brunette out of the office.
Michael snorted. “Perfect for your bedroom, maybe.”
“No, perfect for the position,” I replied.
Michael shook his head. “If you weren’t so damn hung over you’d be able to see what a nightmare she’d be. Tell him, Mario.”
Michael’s words were way too loud. I winced and took another sip of water, hoping it would help. Last night’s rager had sent me stumbling home somewhere around four a.m. I’d completely forgotten about today’s interviews, and still wasn’t sure why I had to be a part of them. Mario, I could see being there, since his family owned a restaurant and he occasionally stuck his head in and pretended to manage it. But me? What did I know about hiring anyone? All I knew was Annetta Porro had a damn fine body, a cute face, and could cook. Checked off enough qualifications for me.
Mario snickered. “You always did like the feisty ones, Dom. She seems like trouble. And look at this résumé… no restaurant work history. This caliber of establishment can be very stressful. Especially during an event like your sister’s engagement party. What if she can’t hang and screws something up?”
“If the dinner’s not perfect, the De Luccas will see it as an insult, and we end up in a war with the Durante family without their support,” Michael said, his voice booming in my brain. “Is that worth some piece of ass to you, Dom?”
Only Italians would claim offense over a subpar meal. Still, the Durantes were the most powerful family in Vegas, and we needed the support of my sister’s future in-laws to take them out and dethrone their don, a sociopath by the name of Maurizio Durante.
“Because if you need to get laid that bad, I know plenty of broads who’ll—”
“I get it,” I said cutting Michael off. My head hurt far too much to enjoy the normal verbal sparring with my brother. Michael wasn’t a bad guy, but as the family heir he had a lot riding on his shoulders, and somewhere along the way his responsibilities had leeched away his sense of humor and turned him into the son our old man loved to brag about. As for me, I was just trying not to be too big of a disappointment.
Mario stood. “I’ll go let Frank know we’re ready for the next applicant.” He headed for the door.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of unimpressive applicants presenting mediocre dishes, none of which held a fork to the enchanting Annetta Porro and her delicious seafood pasta. Despite her lack of experience, the girl had confidence and personality, which convinced me she could handle the stress of the kitchen. Sure, other applicants had more experience, but Annetta clearly had instincts and fire. I kept reminding myself I shouldn’t care who got the job. I didn’t work at the restaurant. She’d be in the kitchen and I wouldn’t even see her at the dinner. In fact, I’d probably never see her again. But for some reason, I did care, and by the time Frank disappeared to let out the last applicant, I was more certain than ever that she was the chef for the job.
“We have to make a decision today,” Mario said, thumbing through the stack of résumés.
“You know how I feel about it,” I said, leaning back and throwing my hands in the air.
Michael frowned, “We’re not hiring someone just because you’re sprung on her. Think with your brain and put the family first for a second.”
“Whoa.” That rankled. I sat up and stared him down. “Yes, she’s hot and I would very much like to see what she looks like out of that uniform, but did you taste her dish? It was by far the best. Maybe you should put the family first, and stop blocking her just because I like her.”
Michael stiffened.
“Look, you and Father dragged me into this process for some reason, so that’s my opinion. We’re here to hire the best, and she’s it,” I said. “This is all about making an impression and showing the De Luccas how much we value their alliance. You honestly think any of those other dishes will impress them?”
He glared at me for a moment before turning to the restaurant manager. “What do you think?” he asked.
The manager—his name was Cain or Connor or something—looked from Michael to me, then down at the résumés. “I-I-I don’t want to step on any toes…”
Unsolicited, we were helping him interview chefs for the restaurant he managed, and I hadn’t even bothered to learn the guy’s name. And he didn’t want to step on our toes? Such was the power of my family.
“Then don’t,” Michael said. “Who would you choose if we weren’t here?”
“Um…” He swallowed and studied the résumé on the table in front of him. “Ms. Porro’s dish was exquisite, but you bring up a valid point about her work history. She has been working at the same place since high school, though, which does show work ethic and loyalty, but working in a kitchen is different.”
“The girl’s loyal, Mike,” I said. “What’s more important to the family than that?”
“Of course, I could be a little biased because Linguine di Mare is my favorite dish,” the manager continued, still waffling. “I’ve had it prepared by some of the finest chefs both here and abroad, but Ms. Porro’s version… exquisite, unique, and knowing she owns other such treasures intrigues me greatly. As a businessman and a food enthusiast, I’d love to get my hands on her recipes.”
