Chapter Three
Lorena
I wake up to the sound of my alarm going off, and for a second, I forget where I am. It takes me a moment, but once I remember that I'm in the Vitale household and not in my small studio apartment in the city, my eyes snap open.
It’s still dark outside, and that is because I set my alarm for 5:30 am. The Vitale have breakfast at 7:00 am sharp, and I have to get everything ready before then.
I reach over and turn off the alarm clock that keeps blaring incessantly. Pulling myself out of bed, I drag myself into the bathroom so I can get ready. While I wash my face, I check my reflection in the mirror, and when I do, I notice that my cheeks are pink, and my eyes are bright. I smile a bit.
Despite what might have happened yesterday, I am excited to start my new job.
I brush my teeth and step into the shower, letting the warm water rinse the last remnants of sleep from my body. Ignoring every thought about Leonardo Vitale, I squirt a huge amount of my favorite vanilla-scented body wash onto my loofah, and I scrub until every inch feels raw and invigorated. I stand under the warm water again, letting it rinse all the soap from my body.
Emerging from the shower, I cocoon myself in fluffy towels, one wrapped snugly around my waist, another around my hair. A mere fifteen minutes have slipped away in the bathroom, leaving me scant time to dress before my presence is required in the kitchen by six.
As I get dressed, I realize how different my life will be from now on. When I lived alone, I never woke up before 8 am. Since I never worked for anyone, I had total control of my schedule.
After culinary school, I realized that the best way to make money and still live a private life was to become an anonymous online chef. It was easy. I had the perfect house setup, I had the skills, and I wasn’t required to show my face anywhere. I think that added to the thrill. The more videos I made, the more people were curious to see my face. That was when the followers and the brand deals began to roll in. I liked that life. It was comfortable and safe.
But it wasn’t what I really wanted. Even though I wanted to be away from my previous life, I didn’t want to hide forever. I realized I wanted a change. I wanted a challenge. When I came across the job opening for the position of live-in chef for the richest family in Sicily, I decided to apply.
So, heck yeah, I’m excited to be here. No sour-faced, grumpy man will steal my joy.
Slipping into one of the uniforms Nina gave me last night, I admire the tailored navy-blue dress, with a white collar, white sleeve cuffs, and white buttons running up the front. The dress stops just above my knee, and I pair the look with black stockings and black flats. I apply leave-in conditioner to my curly blond hair, brush the damp strands, and tie it into a bun, securing it with white ribbons I was also provided. After that, I opt for minimal makeup, grab my apron and chef hat, and stride out of the room.
Glancing at my wristwatch, I note the time: 5:58 am.
See, you’re already getting the hang of it , an upbeat inner voice says. Indeed, this is one of those rare mornings where I wake up in high spirits.
There is hushed chatter in the kitchen when I step in. Two young women who look to be in their mid to late twenties and a guy who looks to be about the same age turn to look at me.
“Hey! You must be Lorena, the new chef,” one of the women says with a big smile. “We went to the farmer’s market yesterday to get some groceries. We didn’t get to meet you.”
They all introduce themselves with smiles on their faces. When Nina said I would have assistants, I didn’t know that there would be three of them. Following the brief exchange, we dive into work.
Today's breakfast is a simple Italian delight: freshly baked cornetti served with jam and Nutella on the side, orange juice and, the most important part of any Italian breakfast: espresso . My culinary schooling left me well-versed in Italian and Sicilian recipes, making this task a breeze.
We gather the necessary ingredients and prepare our stations. Josie, one of the sous-chefs, stands beside me as we take charge of the cornetti.
“So, how are you seeing the job so far?” Josie asks me.
Before I can answer, Hilda, who is retrieving the pre-made dough from the refrigerator, looks at me and whispers, “I heard what happened with Don yesterday.”
Ah, so news of Leo's attempt to undermine me has already circulated throughout the household. Not surprising.
“Just so you know, he’s not always like that. Sure, he's strict, but he’s not always yelling,” Hilda offers.
Blanco, the guy, snorts.
“Yeah, he’s a man of few words. Just quick to ax anyone who fucks up.”
“Language,” Josie snaps, reaching out to slap Blanco’s shoulders.
“Ouch! Just because you’re holier than Mother Mary doesn’t mean I have to be,” Blanco mutters. I chuckle at their exchange.
“So,” Josie nudges me. “Is there anything you want to know about the Vitale family?” She asks. “I’m sure you must have heard some things, and trust me, most of them are lies.”
“Rich people are often subject to the public making up stories about them. It’s horrible,” Hilda adds, dropping the cold croissant dough on the counter before her.
I shrug. “I never really paid attention to them. I just see the family name appear in the news sometimes, and I know they’re the richest family in Sicily…”
“Not just Sicily,” Josie corrects. “The entirety of Italy.”
“Wow. That’s huge,” I say. I’m more interested in this story than I let on.
I'm intrigued by the Vitale family's story. What exactly catapulted them to such immense wealth? Their opulent estate, the retinue of servants, and the top-tier security all hint at a legacy of old money. But what exactly do they do?
“Yes, and what's even more astounding is that Leonardo manages everything,” Josie continues.
“But he seems so young,” I remark, unable to resist indulging in a little gossip.
Gossiping on duty might be one of the crimes that could get me fired, but I can’t help it. The Vitale family is interesting, and I want to satisfy my curiosity about them.
While we make the cornetti, I get ready for the story. The buttery aroma of the dough fills the air as we unroll the dough and cut it into triangular sections. Each triangle is then gently rolled into a crescent shape, ensuring that the layers are perfectly aligned for a tender texture. As we do this, Josie begins to squeeze some fresh oranges.
“Yes. Let me explain,” Josie starts. “Leo’s father had him first with another woman…”
“He is a bastard son,” Hilda whispers from across the counter, making Blanco nudge her with his elbow.
“The walls have ears, woman,” he hisses.
“I am a young lady, not a woman…” Hilda retorts.
“Can you two hush? I am trying to explain something here,” Josie interjects, clearly the leader of the trio. From the dynamic going on, she seems to be the oldest.
“As I was saying,” she turns to me when the other two remain quiet, “Their father, Ares, got married and had three other children: the twins, and the last one, Carmela. Ares died young. It is rumored he was murdered, but we don’t really know,” she speculates. “You know how it is with wealthy folks—enemies aplenty.”
“Leonardo had to come back and take over since the other children were still young. Carmela is still in high school. And Leo has done better than Ares ever did. I hear the family business is doing better now than ever, and Leo just came in a few years ago.”
“What exactly is the family business?” I ask.
“They are…”
“Investors,” Josie interrupts Hilda. I notice Blanco nudging her again.
“But the main source of income is the winery. The Vitale family are most known for owning and running the oldest winery in Sicily,” Josie finishes.
“That makes sense,” I whisper.
But the topic of wines reminds me of what I saw yesterday. Do. Not. Think. About. That.
The rolled cornetti is placed on a baking sheet, and then we brush each cornetto with a light egg wash before placing the tray in the oven.
“Yes. The younger Vitale children are, well… children. They like to travel and spend their daddy’s money. In fact, the twins are in Santorini, Greece, right now. Carmela couldn’t go because she has school,” Josie tells me.
Blanco says, “The twins are not that young,” at the same time Hilda says, “It serves Carmela right. That bitch…”
Josie gasps, turning to look at Hilda. “Why would you call a child the B-word?”
“She’s not that young. Isn’t she seventeen?” Hilda rolls her eyes.
Josie, who I’ve noticed is a very big gossip, gets reminded of something else to inform me.
“Yes. The twins are twenty, and Don is twenty-nine.”
“But hold on,” Blanco interjects. “Isn’t it shocking how you claim to be all holy and righteous, but you are the biggest gossip amongst the three of us?”
I bite my lip to stifle my chuckle. Hilda doesn’t bother to hide her laughter.
“I am not gossiping,” Josie says, her cheeks reddening. “I'm just keeping the new recruit informed...”
“About things no one else even bothers to think about. How the hell do you even know all their ages?” Blanco asks.
The smiles on Hilda’s and Blanco’s faces disappear immediately as I hear the sound of heels clicking against the floors.
“Isn’t it too early for your tittle-tattle?” Nina hisses in a cold voice as she walks into the kitchen. I have a feeling this is a regular occurrence.
The kitchen falls silent as Nina walks around, inspecting the food being made. Hilda seems very uncomfortable in Nina’s presence, which is why, after a few minutes, she says, “Blanco and I will go make the table.”
With that, they both scurry off.
Nina nods in approval as I begin to dish the food into bowls and trays.
“This looks delightful. The Don will appreciate it,” she says in her usual monotone voice.
Josie, the chatterbox, quietly pours the freshly squeezed orange juice into an elegant glass jug.
Finally, two more maids arrive to transport the food to the dining table as I start tidying up. My breath hitches when I hear the sound of Leo’s voice. Even though I despise his arrogant guts, he is still my boss, and I want him to like my cooking.
However, Nina walks into the kitchen some minutes later, with a small frown on her face.
“I don’t know what you’ve done, but Don is pissed…”
“What?” My heart sinks. What now?
“He summons you,” she says before briskly walking away.
Is this another one of his games to embarrass and frustrate me?
I clench my fists to contain my annoyance, before adjusting my apron and walking into the dining room.
My team, along with Nina and two other maids, all stand in a horizontal line across the table. I come to stand right next to Hilda before raising my head to look at Leo.
He’s more handsome today. His black hair is combed back, away from his face, revealing the sharp edges of his facial structure. But when the gorgeous man speaks, any type of attraction I have disappears into thin air.
“Were you sent to poison me?” he seethes. His voice is low, dark, and dangerous.
“What?” I manage, caught off guard by the accusation.
“Don’t reply to my questions with questions,” he says. I bite my cheek till it draws blood.
“Were you sent to poison me?” he asks again.
“That is a grievous accusation, Don,” I bite out. “Might I know why you would say that?” He chuckles bitterly like he could not believe me.
“The juice is too sugary. Weren’t you told I don’t take artificial sugar?”
“Shit,” I hear Josie mutter under her breath. Heck. This man made my Josie swear!
“I can assure you that the juice was made with just fresh oranges. I squeezed them myself,” I say. I know he won’t hesitate to fire Josie if he finds out she made the juice, just to prove some stupid point.
“And I’m supposed to believe you?” he growls. “Also, can you tell me why the cornetti is undercooked? It’s cornetti! That’s the basic thing every chef should know how to make…”
“You’re mistaken. They’re not undercooked.”
The moment I utter those words, I know I’ve made a grave mistake.
Hilda hisses beside me. “Don is always right,” she whispers through gritted teeth.
I see the anger blazing in Leonardo’s eyes as he drops his napkin harshly on the table. “Everyone, leave!” he growls, staring right at me.
The room empties in a flash, leaving me alone with Leo and a tense atmosphere. Even Nina herself seems ruffled. I turn to go, but his words stop me in my tracks.
“Not you, Lorena.” My body shivers with fear as I turn to face him, seeing him march towards me with anger evident on his face, as he closes the distance.
“Repeat what you just said,” he grits out, cornering me against the dining table. And I realize that it's the first time Leonardo is standing this close to me, and I have lost my ability to speak.