Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
“I don’t think he was staring at my feet. In fact, I think he finds my heels impractical. Suggested I wear…” She trails off as if she can’t finish the sentence. What is wrong with people tonight?
“Wear what?” Now I have to know.
“Crocs.” Bianca visibly shivers.
“I told you they’re in style now!” Bianca wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair of Crocs. She thinks they’re the most hideous things she’s ever seen. She doesn’t even consider them shoes.
“Sometimes I wonder how we’re even related.” Bianca shakes her head at me.
“Wait. When did he have a conversation with you?”
“Right before I brought him back here to meet you.” None of this makes sense. The door opens again, but this time, a short, blond man in khakis and a polo steps through.
“Staff only,” Gio calls out.
“He’s with the foot doctor.” Reggie fills my brother in.
“Foot doctor?” The blond man is as confused as I am. “Dr. Jason Ali? He’s a neuroscientist.”
“That’s the brain.” Bianca looks right at Enzo.
“I’m not that stupid. I know what a neuro, ah—”
“Scientist.” I toss Enzo a bone even if I can’t hold back my laughter as I do it.
“He’s one of the best in the world.” The blond stands up taller, ready to defend his friend.
“So, he isn’t a food critic?” I get to the real point here.
“You heard the man. He’s a head doc,” Enzo mutters. I can tell he’s disappointed the man isn’t a food critic.
“So what? Bianca is a host and works in marketing. Gio is an architect and runs a restaurant. He can be both.”
“That’s actually what I wanted to speak with you about. I’m Dr. Ali’s assistant, Calvin. He wants me to set up for you to come to his home to prepare his meals.”
“Not happening.” Gio responds before anyone else can.
“Hey, I can speak for myself,” I cut in. I still do private meals for a handful of clients that pay well.
“No fuckin’ way. Guy is probably a perv.”
“It would be for his mother too. She’s not well.”
“Okay, I can be dumb, but now I know you’re making shit up.” Enzo tries to worm his way back into the conversation.
“I bet a fancy neuroscientist, especially one of the best in the world, can get a lot of things. Bet he’s got some people clamoring for his attention.” I have no clue where my sister is going with this, but the woman always has something up her sleeve. You give me this and I’ll give you that. She and my father have always said It's not what you know but who you know.
“True,” the Calvin guy agrees. He and my sister are now speaking their own language. The rest of us are just waiting to see what the outcome is going to be.
“Is the mom thing true?” she asks next. Calvin's eyes soften, and I know before he says it that it is.
“Yes, she’s suffering from dementia.” The whole kitchen falls silent, and I know my siblings are all thinking about that happening to our own mom. “Dr. Ali isn’t a perv.” The man’s face scrunches. “I don’t think he even dates, honestly. His social skills aren’t always the best.”
“Think a head doc would know how to complete a sentence. Even I can do that.” Enzo puffs out his chest.
“Dr. Ali would like Chef Lucia to come and prepare meals a few days a week. Name your price.” He glances from me back to my sister. “Or demands.”
“I think we can come to some agreement,” Bianca responds with a smirk. I think I should really be a part of this conversation, but everyone in my family knows I go with the flow. Doesn’t mean I can’t throw a few jabs.
“What if my price is to see you in Crocs?” I toss out to Bianca.
“Even I’d pay to see that.” Reggie laughs. Bianca ignores us.
“Lucia is free this Sunday. As long as we can come to some agreement.” She guides Calvin back out of the kitchen. I want to tell her Monday, but I keep my mouth shut.
For a man that can’t form a full sentence, I think the doctor is still going to get whatever he wants.
CHAPTER 9
JASE
I can’t take my eyes off her. From my position on a stool at one of the two center islands in this kitchen, my gaze follows her. Watching Lucia cook is like watching a ballet or some other beautifully choreographed dance. Her hips sway, and her arms swing up and around to a rhythm only she can hear.
The spice of the meat dish and the fragrant herbs fill the kitchen, but underneath, there is her warm scent that invades my lungs and settles into my gut. I imagine her dancing, only this time it’s in my bedroom, and it’s my cock being tended to by her capable hands. My blood starts pumping, and I’m halfway off the kitchen stool before I realize what I’m doing.