The Italian Billionaire's Lover

CHAPTER 6

Thankfully with the large order requiring her attention, Alina could focus on her task at hand and not need to return to the front.  She busied herself, methodically attending to each order and very soon her passion for preparing excellent food took over and she could temporarily forget the dark, haunting irresistible male in her restaurant.  With her assistants helping out, all her orders were timeously despatched.

That was an adrenalin rush of note.  For three hours solid, Alina and Rocco had their heads bent to the grindstone churning out, one mouth watering and delectable dish after another.  When coffee was served, Alina could breathe a sigh of relief. 

Finally.  She walked to her office and removed her chef’s jacket.  Feeling the tension in her neck, she lifted her head upwards, hunched her shoulders to ease the knots, slowing shifting her head from left to right.

‘Need some help,’ a seductive voice whispered from behind her, strong hands like electrical connectors were on her shoulders, fingers accurately pressing the pressure points.  Alina jumped, quickly stepping forward.

My office is off limits to customers!

‘Sorry if I frightened you.’

‘Is there something you needed?’  There were more than enough waiters on hand out in front to see to any of the needs or requirements of the patrons.

‘No,’ his tone sobered.  ‘I wanted to say thank you.  That was a superb meal.’

‘I’ll let my staff know,’ Alina put her spencer on, feeling undressed with only her skimpy top on.

Tomas’ eyes stayed on her face for a long moment before he dragged his eyes away.  ‘You’ve done an excellent job with the decor,’ he congratulated her. 

‘Thank you.’ 
He’d already issued that compliment earlier when she was at the main guest table.  She wondered how he knew she’d changed what had been there.  They just stared at each other, neither making any attempt to initiate any further conversation, until Alina’s common sense kicked it.

‘It’s late,’ she looked away.  ‘I have things to do.’  She didn’t know what else.  The dishes were all washed.  The kitchen was spick and span.  She’d dismissed all the kitchen staff.  Only Rocco was still somewhere.  He always insisted on locking up with Alina.

‘Really?’ Tomas cast a cursory glance around as if inviting her to elaborate.

‘Signor Casiraghi, is there something else you’d like the kitchen to prepare for you?’  She spelled out.

‘No---I wondered if you’ll have coffee with me tomorrow morning.’

‘No thank you,’ she replied too quickly before her devious body tempted her to accept.  ‘You’re not going to tell me, you did not enjoy our previous night together cara mia,’ his fingers brushed her throat, his warm breath caressed her cheek.  Involuntarily her eyes shut.  Just in time, an image of a smiling blonde looking up at Tomas pierced her conscience.

‘You should leave,’ she pushed his hand away. 

Tomas’ eyes widened. She heard his sharp intake of breath.  Clearly, this six foot hunk of testosterone was not used to being brushed off.  She bet women threw themselves at him and would sell their souls to be seen on his arm, well once bitten, twice shy.

His jaw set in an angry scowl.  ‘Good night Alina.  You will change your mind soon,’ he stormed out.
Never!

     Alina shivered as she waited for the fishermen to bring out their spoils.  It was freezing.  Not yet six in the morning and she mentally cursed for not bringing a flask of coffee.  Normally she was able to select her items, haggle prices and be out of there within thirty minutes, but the boat had come in late this morning.  She pulled her warm trench coat closer around her body and lifted the collars up.  Eventually, feeling vindicated with said stock in her hand at much lower prices than she had anticipated paying, Alina headed back home.  She called Rocco to inform him of her purchases, complaining of her one hour delay. He volunteered to go to the vegetable market.  Alina was pleased about that, at least  she could spend some extra time with Emily.