BACK TO WORK
The next day, I went back to work at the restaurant, and as previously discussed, Carla set up her little office at the back where I stored documents and receipts for tax purposes.
Sergio and a couple of other men were posted strategically around the restaurant. All dressed in suits to fit in with the people eating there, which were mainly corporate clientele or couples.
As the lunch rush hit its peak, I worked tirelessly alongside my sous chef, Twan, in the bustling kitchen. The sizzling sounds of searing meats, the aromatic blend of spices, and the clattering of pots and pans filled the air. It was a symphony of culinary artistry, the kind of harmonious chaos that I usually thrived in.
While my focus was dedicated to crafting exquisite dishes, my thoughts couldn't help but drift to Carla, tucked away in her makeshift office.
I would walk by whenever I could just so I could catch glimpses of her immersed in her work. With her hair tied up in a neat bun, her eyes fixed on the computer screen, and a determined expression gracing her face, she appeared to be in her element.
Her passion and dedication were things I always admired about her.
Despite the restaurant being abuzz with activity, I found myself checking on her way too often, my concern mingling with a growing infatuation.
After the rush hour cooled down a bit, I stopped by to bring her lunch. Sergio opened the door for me, and I leaned against the doorframe, watching her intently. As I took her in, I marveled at her ability to navigate the digital realm with such finesse, her fingers gliding effortlessly across the keyboard, crafting captivating posts and engaging content.
Sensing my presence, she looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face.
"I thought you planned on locking me in this room forever without food."
"It got busy, cariño. I made you a quinoa salmon salad with rucola and bell peppers."
"Sounds delish. Thank you," she said with excitement. "All this hard work has me hungry."
I placed the dish before her and pointed at her water bottle which was more than halfway full. "Drink your water. That should have been empty by now."
"Yes, yes, I'll drink more water."
I watched her carefully. "How's it going? I know this space isn't the office you're used to at home."
"It's fine." She mixed the salad on her plate and took a huge bite. "Hmm, so good. You won't believe which company contacted me to run a social media campaign for them."
"Tell me."
She paused for dramatic effect. "Dior Espanja."
"That's huge, babe. How big is this campaign supposed to be?"
"Huge," she said, making a half-circle motion with her hands. "They want everything. Post, videos, reels, TikTok, you name it."
I frowned. "You're a one-man marketing firm. You need to think about this. With everything going on, I don't want you to stretch yourself too thin."
"No, this is what I need right now, but you're right. I'm going to have to hire someone."
A knock sounded at the door and we both paused to look at each other.
"Yeah," I said.
The door opened and Twan poked his head. "A big group just came in. We got work to do."
"Of course, I'll be right there." The door fell shut behind Twan and I turned to face Carla. "Gonna have to continue this conversation later."
"Okay."
I dropped a kiss on her forehead and walked out into the once again bustling restaurant. After washing my hands, I studied the orders that had come in while I was gone, and then got to work.
My mind automatically went back to Carla. I knew she didn't like it here. She hadn't come out of that room all morning, not even when I offered to let her sit at the bar with her laptop.
Noticing my distracted state, Twan set down his knife and turned to face me. "Yo, Dante," he called out, his voice laced with concern. "Something on your mind, man? You seem a bit off today."
With a sigh, I leaned against the stainless steel counter, my hands gripping the edge.
"You caught me, Twan," I admitted, offering him a half-hearted smile. "My mind has been wandering a bit. It's just... Carla."
"What's going on? Why is she working at the back there? I thought she was feeling better after the coma thing."
"She is. I'm just worried she's going to get a seizure again and I won't be around to help." Although Twan had worked alongside me for years, I chose not to tell him the full truth.
"Man, I would do the same if I had a wife."
I knew Twan was half German, half Brazilian. Besides his parents, he never mentioned any significant other in his life. He was a loyal sous chef who never called in sick. I guess not having a girlfriend contributed a lot to his drive and work ethic because once a woman got involved, a man's priorities tended to shift.
"She's special to me," I said. "I can't help but be drawn to her, even when I'm supposed to be running this restaurant."
Twan nodded, his expression understanding. "Balancing work and personal relationships can be tricky. But she's worth it, and I believe you'll figure it out. Just remember to keep your focus here too."
Focus. Fuck. All I could think about was how good Carla's ass looked while getting dicked down from behind.
Twan's words resonated with me, reminding me of the delicate balance I needed to maintain. I straightened up, determined to push my distractions aside and refocus on the task at hand. "You're right. Let's get back to work. Let's show them what this kitchen is capable of."
With a renewed sense of purpose, I returned to the task at hand, letting the sizzling pans and the aroma of culinary creations envelop me. Twan followed suit, his reassuring presence by my side, reminding me that while matters of the heart may tug at my thoughts, I had a responsibility to uphold in the realm of gastronomy.
I channeled my energy into the unique blend of flavors and the detailed execution of each dish, aiming to deliver an unforgettable dining experience to every customer who walked through my restaurant's doors.
After the dinner rush, I asked Sergio to drop Carla home. I had told her that I was going to see my father and uncle, but in truth, Schipper had told me that according to a trustworthy source, Annabella always had dinner with our father on Fridays.
Now was a good time to confront her about the threats before she decided to do something stupid without warning us.
After going through the security checkpoint where Schipper and I were searched and our guns taken from us, he dropped me in front of the sprawling mansion where Annabella and I grew up.
I got out of the car and rolled up the sleeves of the thin beige sweater I had paired with black slacks and dress shoes.
The new housekeeper met me at the door. "Dante, right?"
I regarded her coolly. "Where's Annabella."
"Having dinner with your father and your uncle. Your aunt Elena is here as well."
"Thank you."
I walked away and the aroma of a lavish dinner wafted through the air the closer I got to the kitchen. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, but I didn't stop.
The dimly lit room was filled with laughter and the clinking of silverware against fine china. The last thing I expected to hear was laughter, but I was glad to hear it.
My eyes scanned the opulent surroundings, taking in the intricate details that spoke of wealth and power. It had been a while since I last set foot in this place, and it held a mix of nostalgia and resentment for me.
A one-year-old child I didn't recognize sat in a rise high chair next to Aunt Elena. His chubby cheeks were smeared with an orange goo that resembled the potato and carrot puree my mother used to feed us as kids.
The sight of Aunt Elena, confined to a wheelchair, brought forth a wave of emotions. Her once vibrant and fierce spirit was now trapped within a frail body, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lurked within our world.
I approached her slowly, our eyes locking for a brief moment.
"Dante," she whispered, her voice fragile yet filled with affection. "It's been far too long."
I nodded, unable to find words that could encapsulate the emotions welling up inside me. Instead, I turned my attention to the rest of the room, searching for Annabella. Her absence was conspicuous, and a knot formed in my stomach. My gaze rested back on Elena when the person I came here for wasn't here.
"You look good, Aunt Elena."
"I've looked better, but thank you."
My father, Julio, and his twin brother, Mathias, were engrossed in conversation, their voices low and guarded. The air of authority and respect they commanded had diminished since their retirement from the clan, but their presence still held a formidable weight.
"Dante!" My father's voice boomed across the room, interrupting their conversation. "What a pleasant surprise. Come, join us."
"You had the guards take my gun? What the fuck?"
"That is Annabella's doing. It will be returned to you when you leave."
I took a seat next to Mathias, my gaze fixed on my father. "Where's Annabella?" I asked, my voice laced with an undertone of tension. "And who the hell is that?"
The kid, startled by my tone, started to cry. Elena immediately reached out to soothe him.
"That," my uncle said, "Is your nephew, Alonzo. Annabella's son."
"Bullshit. Who's the father?"
My father exchanged a knowing glance with Mathias before turning his attention back to me. "He's dead."
Well, damn. I had killed this baby's father. No wonder Annabella wanted Carla dead.
"Where's Annabella?" I demanded, my voice harder than I wanted it to be.
"She just left for the evening. She had important business with associates, you understand. You arrived just in time for dessert."
I clenched my fists under the table, struggling to maintain my composure. The betrayal ran deep, and the gravity of Annabella's actions gnawed at my resolve. "I need to speak with her. It's urgent."
Julio sighed, his gaze heavy with weariness. "Dante, can't this wait? We're trying to keep the peace here. You haven't visited in over a year. It's good to see you, my son. Where's your wife?"
I smiled coldly. "You ask for my wife and talk about peace when you damn well Annabella threatened her and poisoned her."
The room fell into a hushed silence, and Aunt Elena's eyes widened in surprise as the weight of my accusation sank in. The echoes of our criminal past reverberated within the walls, reminding us of the consequences we had all faced and the lengths we had gone to protect our family.
Julio leaned forward, his voice now steady but filled with warning. "Son, that's a big accusation. We've always made the hard decisions to protect our own, and your sister would never betray you like that. She understands why Alonzo's father had to go."
"Does she now?"
"Of course. She's the head of this clan, and my brother and I wouldn't have entrusted her with the position if we didn't believe she could run things from an objective standpoint."
I scoffed. "Have you ever known Annabella not to be emotional? She fell in love with that jerk, knowing he was involved in Mom's death."
Mathias cleared his throat. "She was mourning. You can't put that on her."
I sat there and for a second I regretted my refusal to accept the mantle of leadership. Doing that had fractured the unity within our family, leaving Annabella to ascend to power. A power that she wielded with ruthless intent at the cost of my family's safety.
"Mathias, you're the last person I expected to defend Anna's lack of ability to make clear decisions for this family," I spat.
"You mourned your mother in your own way. You abandoned the job you were raised to do and now spend your days cooking your mother's recipes. You moved away and married a woman who's incapable of living the clan life. Clearly, you weren't thinking when you made that decision."
Mathias's words stung, and I felt a surge of anger as he criticized my choices. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself, refusing to let his remarks undermine my resolve.
"Mathias, you've always been content to be in the shadows, blindly following the orders of those in power," I retorted, my voice laced with bitterness. "But I won't stand idly by while our family crumbles under the weight of Anna's betrayal."
Aunt Elena, who had been observing the tense exchange in silence, interrupted with a frail yet determined voice. "Enough, both of you." Her eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and determination. "Dante is right. We cannot turn a blind eye to the actions that threaten our very existence. If Anna can do that to his wife, what will she do to the rest of us?"
My father sighed deeply. "I understand your anger, Dante, but we must tread carefully. The consequences of turning against your own blood can be dire."
I met my father's gaze without wavering."We've all seen what unchecked power can do, and Annabella has shown her true colors. Check her or I will."
A tense silence enveloped the room as my words lingered in the air. When neither Mathias nor Julio answered, I made a decision.
"I will confront Annabella," I declared firmly, breaking the silence. "I will expose her actions and bring her to justice. No matter the cost."
Aunt Elena nodded. "Dante, my dear nephew, I may be paralyzed, but my mind is sharp. I will provide you with whatever information and support I can. Just know that you have put my husband and his brother in a difficult position. Might I suggest you talk to Annabella first before turning to drastic measures?"
I stood up. "Tell her to call me."
My father looked at me. "Turning against family is a perilous path. Mathias and I ran the clan for years without any bloodshed within our family. You and your sister are going to have to do the same."
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