Silver Fox Kingpin

3 Cece

Ipull the van into the long driveway, the engine sputtering a bit as we approach the sprawling mansion. This place is even bigger than I remember, as the house has been in Dominic’s family for generations. The last time I was here, I was barely tall enough to see over the countertops. I glance over at my father, who sits in the passenger seat, humming along to some old Italian song he loves.

“You remember the way?” he asks, grinning as if the sight of Dominic Fiore’s mansion still impresses him, despite how many times he’s been here throughout his life.

“Yeah, Papa, I think I can find the front door,” I joke, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

As the house comes into full view, I slow down, taking in the stone fa?ade, the towering windows, the manicured gardens surrounding the estate like something out of a dream. It’s a far cry from our small two-bedroom apartment above the bakery. This place screams old money, and lots of it. No wonder Dominic is known for his extravagant parties. When you’ve got this kind of house, it’s almost a requirement to host fancy events.

I park near the back entrance, right off of the industrial kitchen. Our van is loaded full of pastries that we need to quickly unload and start plating. Papa hops out, and I follow, hurrying to the back of the van and throwing open the doors. The mouth-watering smell hits me like a warm wave.

“This night could change everything for us, carina.” Papa beams, grabbing a couple of smaller boxes filled with éclairs and biscotti. He flashes me a wink. “Dominic’s guests won’t know what hit ’em.”

I laugh, grabbing a large tray of cannoli. “You sound like we’re planning a bank heist.”

“Just sweeter.” He chuckles before heading inside.

I set the tray I’m carrying down for a moment, surveying the rest of the pastries stacked neatly on the racks in the back of the van. My eyes land on one of the larger boxes, the one filled with the centerpiece cake. I groan inwardly as I scan the contents of the van, realizing we forgot to pack the cart. It’s going to be a pain in the neck hauling the cake inside without it.

With a sigh, I steel myself and grab the sides of the box, dragging it forward. The weight of it immediately strains my arms. It’s way heavier than I thought. My fingers slip slightly on the edge, and for a heart-stopping moment, I imagine the entire thing crashing to the ground, destroying the gorgeous five-tiered cake inside.

“Whoa, careful!” a deep voice calls out from behind me.

Before I can fully process what’s happening, the weight is lifted from my arms as a pair of strong hands grab the other side of the box. I blink in surprise, looking up—way up—at the man who’s suddenly appeared beside me. He’s tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome. If I could describe my perfect man to an artist, he would look like this. He’s so attractive, my brain short-circuits for a moment.

“Need a hand?” he asks, his voice smooth and kind. I meet his gaze and see the beginnings of a smile pulling at his lips.

I clear my throat, putting on a false bravado. Ridiculously, I want this man to think that I have things under control, like every aspect of my life is together. I want him to be impressed with me. “Uh, yeah, thanks. This thing’s heavier than it looks.”

We walk toward the house, and I sneak a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. I notice there’s no ring on his left hand. Interesting.

I can’t help it, I let myself flirt a little. It’s harmless, right? He’s just a handsome stranger. He’s probably on Dominic’s staff, and I’ll likely never see him again. Just for tonight, I have the chance to be whoever I want to be.

“So, do you work here?” I ask casually, keeping my voice light and bright, as if the answer doesn’t matter at all to me.

He shakes his head, his lips curving into a small smile that I can’t decipher. “Something like that,” he responds vaguely.

I’m intrigued by the mystery. Based on his coy expression, he’s probably the head of security or something.

“Well, I really appreciate the help! I’m Cece. My father and I are the caterers for the evening.” I offer him a quick grin, trying to play it cool, but immediately feel stupid. Of course I’m one of the caterers, why else would I be carrying a gigantic cake?

He looks down at me, his expression unreadable for a moment, then he nods.

“Hello Cece,” he responds casually.

I wonder why he doesn’t tell me his name, but I don’t dwell on it. I only really have the mental capacity to focus on carrying the cake. We make our way into the kitchen and gently place the large box on top of the pristine counter.

“Right, well.” He coughs, his smile fading slightly, like he’s distracted by something. “Sorry, I have to go. Enjoy the party.”

Just like that, he disappears through the double doors of the kitchen before I can even say another word. I stand there for a second, feeling an odd mix of confusion and annoyance bubbling up inside me. What the hell? I appreciated the help, of course, but who just walks away mid-conversation like that?

I shake my head, trying to brush it off. Maybe he was in a hurry. Or maybe he’s just a jerk. Either way, I’m not going to dwell on it. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and my father’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.

By the time I finish lugging the rest of the trays and boxes inside, the kitchen is full of the catering staff. We all move around each other, prepping the serving trays for the evening, setting up platters of food that look more like art than anything edible, and trying to keep the place tidy as we go. I step out into the dining room to find my Papa in his element, chatting with the staff like they’re old friends, smiling as he begins plating our pastries onto the display that’s been built just for tonight.

“There she is,” he calls when he sees me. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Just wrangling the cakes,” I say, setting down the last box and wiping my hands on my apron. “But I’m here now.”

He nods, satisfied, then glances at his watch. “Good timing. The guests should start arriving soon. But before things get too crazy, come with me.”

“Dominic!” my Papa calls as we approach.

Dominic turns, his expression neutral at first, but when his eyes land on me, that unreadable expression I’d noticed earlier is once again plastered on his face.

Holy shit, how could I not have recognized him when he was helping me carry in the damn cake?

“Don’t be a freak,” I remind myself under my breath. “Just have a conversation like a normal, functioning adult.”

Thankfully, Papa either doesn’t hear me or chooses to ignore my diatribe, because he’s all smiles as he gestures between us. “This is my daughter, Cece. Can you believe how grown up she is? Last time you saw her, she was a little devil, running around the bakery and making a mess. We used to call her Hurricane Cece.”

Dominic’s eyes flick to mine, and for a split second, I think I see the corner of his mouth twitch. Is that amusement? Embarrassment? I can’t tell, but I suddenly wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dominic says smoothly, his voice steady, as if this isn’t the most awkward situation on the planet. “Good to see you again, Cece.”

I force a smile, feeling my face flush. “Uh, yeah. Good to see you, too. Thanks for helping with the cakes earlier.”

There’s a pause, just long enough to make me want to crawl into a hole, but then Dominic nods. “My pleasure.”

My Papa looks between the two of us, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air. Then again, maybe there isn’t any tension and it’s all in my head.

“It’s so good to see you again, amico,” Papa says to Dominic. “I’m sorry to rush off. I’ve got to check on the rest of the setup.”

Before I can protest, he’s gone, leaving me standing there with Dominic with nothing to say.

I clear my throat, trying to think of something, anything, to say that will make me seem somehow demure and classy. “So, are you excited for the party?”

Dominic smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. You could say that.”

I shift awkwardly on my feet, feeling like an idiot. Of course he’s looking forward to the party, he wouldn’t be throwing it if he weren’t.

“I’m really sorry about earlier,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “I didn’t realize who you were.”

Dominic raises an eyebrow, looking mildly amused. “Who did you think I was?”

“I don’t know,” I answer with a cringe. “I thought maybe you were one of the staff members. It’s not often that the party host helps us unload before the event.”

“I’m not like most people,” he says in what strikes me as a husky voice. Am I making that up out of my attraction to him? Possibly. But there’s something unnerving about the way he’s looking at me. “But seriously, no harm done. You haven’t seen me since you were a little girl. You shouldn’t feel bad for not recognizing me.”

I exhale, relieved that he’s not holding it against me. Still, I can’t shake the feeling of embarrassment gnawing at the back of my mind. I seriously flirted with my papa’s oldest friend. He’s got to be nearly two decades older than me, not that he looks it all. Everything about this situation is so weird and awkward, but he doesn’t look like a man who ever feels weird or awkward. He’s completely in control, so very buttoned up and stiff.

“I should probably go help my papa,” I say, gesturing toward the kitchen, unable to be in his presence for one more second. I’m terrified I’ll put my foot in my mouth again.

“I’ll come with you,” he says smoothly. “I have a few things I need to check on before the guests arrive.”

Great. Now there’s another opportunity for me to embarrass myself.