She huffed again, and he heard her say, “I should’ve listened to you, Brice. Vincent’s hopeless. He can’t even see.”
The line went dead. He looked at the phone and once again, no service. Got to love this place. You better be on vacation if you come here. I’m not sure if this is due to weather or location, but either way no one is getting any work done.
He quickly made his way downstairs and was about to enter the kitchen when he saw Renita approaching him with a young man. You’re going to be sorry the service came back briefly, because you’re about to see what an ass I can really be when I run a kitchen.
“Hi, Vincent. One of the sous-chefs made it in. I guess they are slowly opening up the roads again. That is both good and bad.”
“Why is it a bad thing?” To me, it means I can get the hell out of here anytime. I see no reason to stay for the party. They have my money, and I’m not about to kiss anyone at midnight, so there is no reason for me to stay.
“Means that more guests are going to be allowed to come, but if we don’t have the staff, we’re going to be in worse shape than we already are.”
He watched Renita closely, analyzing everything she said. We? I’m just a guest. Vincent didn’t respond to her and spoke to the guy with her. “How long have you been here?”
“Three years.”
“Any good?” Vincent asked as he stared him down. He wanted to know how confident this kid was.
“Chef Gallo would be the person to ask.”
I like that answer. I can work with that. He hated it when they were so cocky they wouldn’t take instructions. Normally those people didn’t last long in his restaurant. “Then let’s ask him. What’s your name?”
“Roberto.”
Vincent turned to Renita and said, “I can call or you can.”
“Are you really going to check with my father on whether or not his staff is qualified? Who are you to say if Roberto is good or not? I never even checked your credentials. For all I know you’re not actually a chef either. I can’t believe I let you into my kitchen!”
He thoroughly enjoyed watching her defend her father’s honor. She was fiery, and it wasn’t just evident in her tone either. Her eyes became so dark they were almost black. You’re either the best actress I’ve ever seen, or I’m misjudging you all together. Since I can’t tell yet, I’ll stick around a bit longer but only because you’ve piqued my interest. And that is not easily achieved.
“You expect me to believe that you don’t know who I am?”
“Of course, I know who you are. You said your name when you introduced yourself. Is that supposed to mean something to me? Because it doesn’t.” Renita snapped at him, and she was serious as she spoke.
Roberto seemed surprised by the exchange. “Signore, I apologize, for Ms. Gallo. She is under much stress. But she will be better now with me here. I shall take over for her in the kitchen until Chef Gallo returns.”
Vincent admired the kid for trying, but he knew there was no way he’d be able to handle everything himself. Hell, he could barely do it, and he was more than a sous-chef. He knew he was going to regret these words, but he said them anyway.
“I’ll be happy to have your help, Roberto. I just hope you are more skilled than Ms. Gallo. Otherwise, we’re going to have a lot of unhappy people shortly as time is running out, and I need to get in there and start the prep.”
“You cannot be serious. Vincent, there is someone qualified to cook here. If you want, I can allow you to assist him, but he’ll be the one giving directions, not you,” Renita said firmly with her hands on her hips.
“I take direction from no one. Not you, not Roberto, and not your father. Got it?”
“Vincent Moretti, you’re impossible!” Renita said and stomped her foot as though it would intimidate him. He would’ve laughed if Roberto hadn’t spoken up.
“Signore Moretti?” Roberto exclaimed.
Renita turned to him. “Yes, Vincent Moretti. He’s a guest here.”
“Signore. Your reputation . . . I’m honored to meet you.” His hand trembled as he reached out to shake Vincent’s hand.
Vincent watched as Renita went from perturbed to puzzled. “Do you know him?”
“Si. Un gran chef, a grand master chef. He owns molti grandi ristoranti. If, Chef Gallo only knew you were here he’d—” Roberto exclaimed, full of excitement.
Renita arched a brow then looked back at Vincent. “You’re not only a chef, but you own restaurants?”
Vincent laughed and used his best Italian accent, which was pathetic but he did it anyway. “Si, signora.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Does it matter to you that much? You questioned my qualifications, and I said I was a chef. If you’d have questioned further, I would’ve divulged the information.”
“Why are you here then?”
“I’m attending the event like everyone else.”
“But this is an exclusive group of individuals. They’re all—”
“People.” He knew exactly what she was about to say. Rich. Powerful. He wasn’t going to disagree with her on that, but he didn’t like to classify himself that way.
Vincent watched as she changed how she acted toward him. It was as though he was no longer Vincent, but now Chef Moretti. I don’t think I like that one bit. I only want to be Vincent to you.
“Chef Moretti, would you please be kind enough to assist one more time in the kitchen? With such short notice, I cannot pull this off with only myself and Roberto.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her if she called him Chef one more time, he would kiss her until she couldn’t remember her name, never mind his. Instead, he gave her a quick nod and said as he walked toward the kitchen, “Rule two, stay out of the way of the sous-chef as well. Let’s go, Roberto. We’ve got a lot to do.”
He left Renita standing there as he walked to the kitchen. It was going to be much easier with Roberto’s help, but he was going to miss his alone time with Renita. Maybe that’s a good thing. I can get through this and get back to my work.
Chapter Three
/> First Roberto showed up, then within an hour three more of the kitchen staff arrived unannounced. She wasn’t sure if Roberto had called them, but somehow their jackets were all pressed, and they each were as quiet as a mouse just awaiting direction from Vincent.
If Dad could only see you now. There wasn’t really anything for her to do with the staff all at Vincent’s beck and call. She’d only be in the way, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t keep an eye on things. Grabbing her cell phone, she stepped out of the kitchen to call her father.
“Hi, Dad. How are you feeling?”
“Almost back to myself since you sent that tisane. How did you know how to make it?”
“Glad it helped.” She wasn’t ready to tell him exactly how. He was a private man, and he’d never be happy knowing she had been talking about him being sick with the staff, never mind a guest.
“How are things at the resort? Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen cooking? Did something happen?” He spoke faster with each word.
“Everything is fine, Dad. Don’t worry about a thing.” She understood why he was concerned. Mr. Prescott had always been kind to her father, but this was a high-level event that if it went bad, they were all finished.
“What is on the menu?”
I should know this. Sadly I don’t. “Dad, I only have a minute and wanted to check on you, that’s all. Glad you’re no longer coughing, but I’ve got to get back inside.”
“Nita, I’m your father. I know when you’re keeping something from me. Unless you want me to get in my car and come there this instant, you will tell me the truth.” His tone demanded an answer.
“Dad, you know I’m not a good cook. Actually, I’m horrible. But there’s a guest here who’s been kind enough to . . . help me.”
“A guest is in my kitchen? I can’t believe you’ve let a stranger in there. What’s his name? I want to speak to him right now.”
She had thought it was crazy when Vincent mentioned how territorial chefs were, but she’d just heard her father confirm it. Maybe they’re all crazy from the heat of the ovens or something.
“Dad, he’s busy right now. Maybe we can call later?” Like after he leaves.
