Chapter 12
Olivier
It doesn’t get much better than this.
Danny, the team, me.
Saturday morning breakfast…
The aroma of fresh croissants and brewing coffee fills the restaurant's back room, a cozy space we reserve for staff breakfasts on Saturdays.
It's a tradition I've kept alive since opening—gathering the team post-Friday rush, before the weekend prep kicks in.
No uniforms, just casual clothes and easy chatter.
Plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit platters, and those flaky pastries I baked fresh this morning all along the long communal table.
Antonio's laughing at something one of the line cooks said, Lazlo's pouring mimosas with his usual flair, and the rest of the crew—servers, dishwashers, the new prep guy—are digging in, the clink of cutlery mixing with yawns and stories from last night's close.
It’s always been my favorite moment of the week. But with my boy here too, it’s simply the cherry on top of the cake. And now I’ve experienced it once, I don’t know how I’m ever going to accept it any other way.
Danny sits beside me, wide-eyed but smiling, forking into his eggs like he hasn't eaten in days. He’s big, works hard, and needs his calories—and I want to make sure that I’m the kind of Daddy who sees to his every need.
I'm proud too.
My boy getting a peek behind the curtain, seeing the heart of what I do. Not the polished front-of-house glamour, but the real deal… the family we've built here.
And damn if he doesn't fit right in.
He's chatting with Antonio about some Italian recipe his grandma used to make, the two bonding over food like old pals. Antonio's eyes light up, gesturing animatedly, a rare sight these days with his mind elsewhere.
Danny's natural charm shines through, even from a distance as I watch on. Even the usually reserved dishwasher cracks a joke about construction vs. kitchen work, and Danny rolls with it, self-deprecating and warm. I know Danny took a minute to settle and be himself with his work crew, but it’s like he’s hit the ground running with my team.
He might be a Little, but he’s not afraid.
And all I need to do is watch on and love every second of it.
Watching them, a thought nags… Antonio as a Little? I've suspected it for years—subtle signs, like how he lights up over simple comforts, his occasional shy demeanor amid the kitchen chaos. Oh, and the time I caught him checking out a table of Daddies that were in town for a big club night.
But I've kept it professional, boundaries firm.
The restaurant's future depends on stability. I can't risk complicating that. Still, if he is... maybe that's part of his restlessness. Maybe he needs space to explore, like I did back in the day when I was working things out.
Whatever. This isn’t the time to get overly deep. I’ve got a delicate little Pain au chocolate that needs devouring.
Before long, breakfast winds down, plates clearing. I catch Lazlo's eye, nodding toward the door. "Quick chat outside?"
Lazlo follows me out the back, into the alley where the morning sun fights through clouds, the air still crisp with last night's chill. Delivery trucks rumble nearby, powering out of town and back to the suppliers no doubt. But either way, it's quiet enough.
I lean against the brick wall, arms crossed.
"About Antonio. That New York offer…it's eating at him."
Lazlo sighs, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair.
"Yeah,” Lazlo says, exhaling. “He confided last night after close. He doesn't want to go, actually. Loves it here. The city, the team. He says he'd rather stay local, open his own spot someday. But he's scared you'll see it as disrespect, like he's abandoning ship or setting up as a rival"
I nod, processing.
"Come on, that’s bullshit,” I say. “But maybe I can see why he’d think like that. It’s not as if I’ve ever been shy in coming forward about my competition, is it? Ha. And Antonio…he's loyal to a fault."
"And there's the money," Lazlo adds. "No savings for startup, no investors lined up. Connections? Zilch outside our circle. He feels stuck. As much as a move to New York doesn’t appeal to him, it would give him that big budget without him needing to do any of the heavy lifting to get it. Or, for that matter, the risk involved.”
Suddenly, the pieces click.
Well, kind of.
If Antonio wants to stay... maybe I can help.
Fund a new venture? Partner on a sister restaurant? Keep him close, let him spread wings without leaving the nest entirely.
But it hinges on capital, time—and my own life.
With Danny in the picture, things are shifting.
I don’t know if I can persuade Danny to stay here and make a life with me.
He loves the Construction Boys life too much.
I can see that, and he’s literally told me himself that he never dreamt he would find a team that understood him so well, didn’t’ judge, and shared so much in common with him.
To ask him to leave that just so he can be close to me doesn’t seem right on so many levels.
Fuck.
It’s all going to take a bit more working out than I might have hoped.
But, hey, who said life was easy?
"Appreciate the insight," I say, clapping Lazlo's shoulder. "Let's keep an eye. If he opens up, steer him my way. The last thing I want is for him to feel like he can’t keep things real with me."
“Got it,” Lazlo says, a look of wisdom in his eyes. “And the same applies to you, my friend. If you need to talk to me, I’m always here.”
Back inside, the group's breaking up—staff heading to morning tasks or home. Danny's finishing his fresh-squeezed OJ, his adorable romper from yesterday peeking from his bag.
I slide back beside him, ruffling his hair. "Ready for an adventure, boy?"
Danny looks up, curious. "Always, Daddy."
"We're going to the Dancing Daisy. It’s a daytime play center for Daddies and Littles. I think you'll like it."
His eyes widen, excitement bubbling. "Really? Yay! Lexi's gonna love it!" He bounces a bit, grabbing his bag.
We say goodbyes—Antonio fist-bumps Danny, promising to share a recipe they were gossiping about—and head out.
The walk's short, the area awakening around us: cafes opening, joggers passing, the faint scent of bakeries wafting. It’s almost too wholesome to be real.
But what makes it so special is who I’m walking alongside.
Danny chatters about site stuff, the various Daddies he’s heard about from Taylor, Mikey, and Xander. Honestly, it’s so much fun to be in the presence of a boy like Danny. He’s got no agenda other than being himself, having fun, and looking at the world with a big, beating open heart.
And his hand in mine feels right, grounding and enriching in a way that I haven’t experienced before.
The food industry is a tough, uncompromising place.
You learn how to be fierce, ruthless at times.
There truly isn’t much space for holding hands or allowing your defenses to drop.
But with Danny, that’s all in the rearview mirror when it’s just the two of us.
And I love it. In fact, I think I might just love him.
The Dancing Daisy sits on a quiet side street, a quaint building with a cheerful daisy sign above the door. It’s discreet, but definitely obvious for anyone in the Daddy and Little world, that’s for sure.
Inside, it's a Little's paradise… the cafe area up front with kid-sized tables, sippy cups of juice, and animal-shaped sandwiches and fruit skewers.
Playrooms branch off— one with arts and crafts stations stocked with crayons, glitter, and stuffie-making kits. Another for quiet time with bean bags, books, and soft lighting.
The big open-plan rumpus area dominates the back…
colorful mats covering the floor, ball pits, climbing structures safe for big Littles, toy chests overflowing with blocks, trains, and dress-up clothes.
Murals of playful scenes—dragons, castles, space adventures—cover the walls, and soft music pipes in, upbeat and fun.
Daddies and Littles dot the space, all with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts. Some coloring, others building forts, laughter echoing without judgment. It's warm, welcoming, and all scented with vanilla and playdough.
“So, what do you think, baby boy?” I chuckle, keen to hear Danny’s first take on the Dancing Daisy.
Danny's jaw drops. "This is... awesome!" He clutches Lexi, eyes darting everywhere.
"The changing room's that way," I say, handing him his bag. "Burgundy romper time?"
“Of course, silly!” Danny squeals, evidently excited and ready to have some true Little playtime with me, his Daddy.
He nods eagerly, then disappears.
When Danny emerges—snug burgundy romper hugging his massive frame, looking utterly adorable with its snap crotch and playful pockets—I can't help grinning.
"My handsome dragon boy," I say, my eyes tracking over Danny’s strong thighs as they fill out his romper in a way that gets plenty of attention from the other Daddies in the room.
But Danny’s mine.
All mine.
And we’re here for some real fun.
We dive in, heading to the rumpus area.
"Let's be dragons!" Danny declares, Lexi as our sidekick.
I roar playfully, chasing him around mats as he flies with arms outstretched, giggling wildly. We build a cave from foam blocks, hoard treasure in the form of shiny toys, and breathe fire by blowing raspberries.
We must be having fun because soon enough other Littles join— a game of tag evolves, Daddies watching fondly.
Danny is in pure bliss, his face lit with joy, and my heart swelling with pride as I watch on.
This… him free, me guiding… is what I've craved for so long. And now I have it. It almost feels too good to be true. But even if it is, I’m going to indulge myself in the fantasy and enjoy every moment like it’s my last.
But as playtime winds down, the clock nears lunch.
"Time to go, boy,” I say, a smile on my face. “Restaurant calls."
Danny pouts, stacking one last block.
"Awww, but Daddy... five more minutes?"
" Now, Danny," I chuckle, but sensing that Danny might not quite be in the mood to listen to his Daddy right now.
Then, out of nowhere, Danny knocks the tower over dramatically.
"No fair!” Danny says as he stomps his feet. “We're having fun! Don’t be boring!"
"Watch the sass," I warn. “We’ve had a wonderful time. Don’t put a bad edge to it with that tone, boy.
To my shock, Danny sticks his tongue out.
"Make me," he says, and follows up with a raspberry.
The challenge hangs—the boy has pushed it too far, spilling into a defiance that needs correction.
I can sense the other Daddies watching on with interest. They can see how big and strong my boy is, and right now that very same boy seems to think he can forget all his manners and not expect anything back in return.
It’s time to show Danny that I didn’t earn my reputation as a rebellious chef by accident…
“Right, have it your way,” I say, my voice firm but under control. “Excuse me everyone, but this over excited boy needs his bottom heated up.”
To the sound of gasps from the watching Littles, I take Danny by the hand and march him over toward the large snuggle couch over by the play castle.
And with and swift unbuttoning of his romper, Danny’s naked bottom is fully on display and my hand is coming down on his deliciously full cheeks with the perfect disciplinary rhythm.
“Daddy! Daddy! Owwww!” Danny squeals. “Sorry! Sorry!”
I hold Danny in position and continue to redden his buttocks, the sound of Daddies clapping in approval ringing around the rumpus area.
“Naughty boys get their butts warmed,” I say, focusing for one moment on Danny’s left cheek with a swift triple spank, and then doing the same on his right cheek. “Now, tell me, have you learned your lesson?”
“Yes, Chef! Yes, Daddy!” Danny says, genuine remorse in his voice as I bring down the last spank. “I… I… I was just having so much fun. I didn’t want it to end.”
“Well, that’s understandable,” I say, taking Danny by the hand and walking him over to the changing area where my bag—and some much needed cooling gel—is residing. “But you sassed too hard. Manners are important, you know that.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Danny says, his voice quiet as he faces the wall and presents his sore butt for my cooling gel and soothing hands. “I… I just don’t ever want us to stop having fun. Not now. Not after my work here is done. You know?”
“I know,” I reply. “I know exactly what you mean my lovely big baby boy…”