Chapter 33
RHETT
Iwas absolutely fucking livid. After walking Clem to her room, I went to mine. I should have been exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t believe they showed up like that.
How did they even know where to find me?
I paced like a caged animal with my phone in hand. The damn thing had been buzzing incessantly with notifications. Every few seconds, another tag, another post, another goddamn photo from tonight’s event.
I scrolled through Instagram with growing dread, watching the damage unfold in real time.
Amazing night at @ChefRhettVoss popup! Food was incredible but who were those mysterious guests?
OMG did anyone else see those Italian guys at the Rhett Voss event? They looked like they stepped out of Goodfellas!
Chef Rhett’s “family friends” made quite an impression tonight. Mamma mia!
Hundreds of posts. Thousands of views. And it was only getting worse.
“Fucking idiots,” I muttered, throwing my phone onto the bed. “Couldn’t just stay away for one goddamn night.”
My family was notorious. Never mind they weren’t actual mob.
Yeah, yeah, in the past there had been some unsavory characters and maybe some illegal activities, but we were over it.
Mostly. I had nothing to do with the family business.
Never had and never would. I kept all of them at arm’s length, except my mom.
And she wasn’t whacking anyone. People watched too many movies. My family wasn’t like the mobster movies.
Anymore.
It was only a big deal in Chicago right now, but once the New York news picked up on the story, it was going to be even bigger. My family was still something back home. Chicago people had very little idea about their history. But New York remembered.
And none of it was great. Of course there had been a lot of embellishments added to the stories. My family was blamed for missing people they never actually met. It was just easier to point the finger at easy targets.
Unfortunately, public perception meant a lot in my world. It felt like the last few weeks had gone up in smoke with one visit from my family. I didn’t blame them for the way people thought of them, but they knew what the rumors were. They knew why I had to distance myself.
And they showed up anyway.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I did not want to be the one responsible for bringing bad press to the tour. This whole thing was Desman’s baby. He was not going to be happy with my family’s past crimes overshadowing all the good he was trying to do.
I opened my laptop and pulled up my email, fingers flying over the keys as I typed out a message to Desman.
Heads up about tonight. Some unexpected family showed up at the event.
You’ll probably see it on social media and maybe news outlets tomorrow.
I’m sorry if this causes any issues for the soup kitchen opening.
These aren’t the kind of connections I want associated with our project. Will call you in the morning. - Rhett
I hit send and immediately regretted the formal tone. Desman had been nothing but supportive, and now I was potentially dragging his reputation through the mud because my family couldn’t resist making a scene.
The rain was coming down hard outside my window, matching my mood perfectly. I started unbuttoning my shirt, ready to call it the worst night of my life, when there was a soft knock at my door.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said under my breath, assuming it was hotel staff or maybe my family had somehow tracked down my room number. I would not put it past them to show up and want to take me out to the bar.
That was the last thing I was going to do. Damage had already been done. I didn’t need to add to it.
But when I opened the door, there was Clementine, holding a bottle of champagne and wearing the most ridiculous pajama set I’d ever seen.
The bright pink pants and top with cartoon tacos printed all over it could be used as a beacon to guide in lost ships off the Atlantic.
She had clearly washed off her makeup, but somehow she looked more beautiful than she had all evening.
I popped my head out into the hallway to see if anyone else was there to witness the scene. Did she really walk down the hall in full view of anyone that might be coming or going?
Yes, yes, she did.
“Can I come in?” she asked. “Just for like half an hour? To debrief and relax?”
Every rational part of my brain screamed that this was a terrible idea. The last thing I needed was to complicate things further. But there was something in her eyes—not pity, not curiosity, just genuine concern—that made me step aside.
She obviously had questions.
“Against my better judgment,” I said.
She smiled and walked past me into the room. “Your better judgment is overrated anyway. I think you would be much happier just doing what you want instead of overthinking everything.”
She wasn’t wrong but consequences tended to put a real damper on things.
“Oh, does this work?” Clementine asked.
I had a fireplace in my suite, one of those fancy hotel amenities that made a room just a little cozier. Chicago winters were no joke.
Clementine turned it on and cranked the heat. The storm outside was picking up, rain pelting against the windows. The whole scene felt impossibly intimate.
“So,” she said, working on the champagne cork. “Want to talk about tonight?”
“Not particularly.”
“Come on, Rhett.” The cork popped with a satisfying sound. “I won’t judge. I promise.”
I sat down across from her, accepting the champagne flute she offered. “You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
I took a long sip, buying time. How do you explain a lifetime of baggage to someone who sees the world through rose-colored glasses?
“Your family is rowdy, but they love you.”
I snorted. “I think there is something called too much.”
“You have a large family.”
“I do. Too large.”
She laughed. “There is no such thing.”
“Trust me, there is.”
“I can only imagine how loud your family gatherings are.”
I rolled my eyes. “You can’t imagine it. It’s pure chaos.”
“How big is your family?”
She was gently fishing for information. I didn’t blame her after what she had seen tonight. And it was all going to be in the news over the next couple of days. It was probably better to get ahead of it now.
“Very large. My father has eight brothers and sisters. They have all figured out the whole breeding thing. I honestly couldn’t give you a number.”
“Ballpark it,” she said. “How many people would you normally expect at your Thanksgiving?”
I laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it.
“Forty? Fifty? Maybe more depending on who’s out of prison that week.
And usually it starts with fifty, but by the end of the meal, it doubles.
It’s like a bat signal goes up. When someone hears there’s food, it sends out an alert and everyone just shows up.
They bring their cousins and it’s like a snowball rolling downhill. ”
Clementine’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t flinch. She just took another sip of champagne and waited for me to continue.
“My father’s side of the family is…” I paused, searching for the right words. “Complicated. They’re not bad people, Clem. They’re just loud and they have zero filter, and they come from a world where subtlety isn’t valued.”
“Where do you guys meet up?” she asked. “I mean, who has a house that big?”
“My parents,” I said. “I wouldn’t say it’s actually big enough, but we fit. My Uncle Sal has a pretty big house but not everyone wants to hang out there.”
“Why?”
“Too much heat.”
She paused with the glass halfway to her lips. “Heat. As in—”
“Yes, as in the Feds, police, and other people.”
She licked her lips. “So, can we just address the elephant in the room?”
“Do we have to?”
“No, but you can tell me. No judgment.”
“My father,” I started, then stopped. “Fuck, where do I even begin?”
“The beginning usually works.”
I looked into the fire, watching the flames dance. “My father was a mafia don.”
Clementine burst out laughing. “Oh, yeah right. A don? I might be naive but I’m not stupid, Rhett. This isn’t The Godfather.”
I just stared at her, letting the silence stretch until her laughter died away and her eyes widened.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
She set down her champagne with shaking hands. “But, I mean, didn’t you study culinary arts?”
“Didn’t you read anything about my history during all your research? I’m kind of famous.”
“I read that you came from a tough background,” she said slowly. “But I never really dug deeper. I don’t care where people come from, just where they are and where they’re trying to go.”
That hit me harder than I expected. Here was this incredible woman who’d taken me at face value, who’d never once googled my family name or tried to dig up dirt on my past. Her optimistic view of the world was both refreshing and terrifying.
“I like that about you,” I said. “But my past isn’t something I can just leave behind. It’s deeply ingrained in who I am.”
She shifted closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “Tell me.”
So I did. I told her about growing up in a family where violence was a regular occurrence and loyalty was worth more than money.
I told her about watching my uncles count stacks of cash at Sunday dinner while my grandmother served homemade pasta.
About learning to cook in a kitchen where the pantry doubled as a place to store illegal weapons.
Dinner conversation was all about who got pinched and who owed what.
“Drugs, weapons, closed-door deals with dirty cops were part of the operation. It was large and highly profitable. I’m the first male in the family to opt out of that life.”
“That must have been difficult.”
“It caused a lot of strife for my father. Training in Vegas saved me from most of the fallout. While I was away learning to be a chef, my childhood home was raided at three in the morning. Federal agents kicked down the door, scared my mother half to death. My father was arrested and charged with racketeering, among other things.”
Clementine’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Rhett.”
“The only times I see him now are during visitation hours at the federal prison in New York. Two hours a month, if I’m lucky. Or if he’s lucky.”
She looked heartbroken for me, and I couldn’t stand it. “Are you close? To your dad, I mean.”
I shrugged. “I don’t hate him. I never really approved of the family business.
It caused more than one argument. He thought I was embarrassed or that I thought I was better than the family business that had made all of them very wealthy.
It was a business that went back several generations.
I think he was embarrassed that the dynasty died with me. ”
“But what about your uncles?” she asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to. Are they still in it?
Probably. Nothing like what it used to be, but the businesses still run and sometimes shit has to get handled.
I don’t ask and they don’t tell. It’s a mutual respect.
I’m not running to the cops to blab about their business and they’re not telling me anything that could get me in trouble for knowing. ”
“Do you have rival families that come after you?”
I smiled. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s not the old school New York style of things anymore.”
She shook her head. “That’s wild. I’m sorry you have to carry around that kind of baggage.”
“Don’t pity me, Clem. I made my peace with it a long time ago. I chose the right path for myself and for my mother, who has completely clean hands and is living her own life now. A safe one. She talks to the family but she’s out of the business.”
“But family is still family,” she said softly. “Those men tonight, they all genuinely seemed to want to see you be successful.”
I nodded, surprised by her insight. “They’re proud of me. I did what none of them could do. I got out and saved myself from a life of constant violence and fear.”
Clementine inched closer to me on the couch. “You make so much more sense now,” she said.
“Damn,” I said, managing a smile. “I prefer to be dark and mysterious.”
She giggled. “I had no idea I was sparring with a mob boss’s son. I might have been a little more cautious.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You would spar with me if I was holding a butcher’s knife. Hell, you have poked at me while I’ve held a knife.”
She grinned.
Without thinking, I reached for her, dragging her close and pressing my lips to hers. She tasted like champagne, and for the first time all night, I felt like I could breathe again.