Chapter 1 #2
“Will do.”
As I make my way to the private hallway, I can’t help mulling over Eli’s question.
Love is different for everyone. Flex took a bullet for Helena.
Dalton has loved Nadia since they were babies.
That’s not the norm. I love in my own way.
I enjoy taking care of Tessa. She’s sweet, kind, and obedient.
I’ve been thinking about our contract over the past few weeks, and I’m ready to take the next step.
I’m going to discuss a new year-long contract.
By the time I reach my room, I’m resolved to tell her how I feel. If I were honest with myself, I’ve loved her for a while but didn’t want to rock the boat. Saying those three words changes everything.
When I step inside, Tessa is in the position—on her knees, hands resting on the back of her head, and a delicate black blindfold over her eyes. She’s wearing a set of the lingerie I bought for her, showcasing her alabaster skin to perfection.
“Good evening, Tessa.”
“Good evening, Sir.”
“You look stunning, kneeling ready for me, but you shouldn’t have been in the bar. And you shouldn’t have interrupted my conversation. You’ll be punished for that.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Tell me, Tessa, do you enjoy it when I watch you pleasure yourself?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I stand before her, leaning down to take her hand in mine. “Let me walk you to the bed.” She does as she’s told, her trust in me absolute.
Guiding her to the bed, I command her to crawl up to the headboard, turn, and sit, her legs spread. I fucking love watching her. I’ll leave her on display until I know she’s desperate for release, and then I will let her slip her hand between her legs for me.
I’m a voyeur at heart, loving the thrill of watching a submissive get turned on by the simple act of being naked, waiting for a chance of release. She’s got a pretty little pussy.
Moving to the sound system in my room, I start my favorite playlist. A little mood music while I watch Tessa. I have a large wingback chair directly across the room from the bed. For me, it’s about the anticipation—hers and mine.
“Do you enjoy knowing my eyes are on you?” I sit back, my cock straining against my pants.
“Yes… Sir.” A sob escapes her.
“What’s wrong?” I’m out of my chair and at her side in seconds, loosening her blindfold, only to find her eyes welling with tears. She crawls into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“What? Talk to me, Tessa.” I brush my thumb over her cheeks, wiping away the tears. It hurts to see her upset.
“I’ve been seeing someone else.” I must be misunderstanding her.
“Say it again.”
“I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”
“You’ve been screwing another Dom while contracted to me?”
“Y… yes.” I move her off my lap and start pacing the room, my pulse racing. I didn’t see this coming. Not even close. I was going to offer to collar her, which is a big step.
“How long?”
“Two months.” You’ve got to be shitting me. I’ve never been so disrespected by a sub.
“Who?” Not that it matters.
“Master Daniel.”
“Get out.” He’s one of the approved partners for a threesome in my private room, but only when allowed by me and in my presence. I’m going to fucking kill him.
“Wait. Please, let me apologize. I didn’t want it to end this way.”
“Get. Out.”
“Sir.” I snap my gaze to hers, staring her down as my heart breaks.
“Don’t fucking call me that. You could’ve ended our contract the minute I wasn’t enough for you anymore. You’ve been stringing me along, letting me envisage a future for us, and you’ve been fucking a guy that I let fuck you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Get the fuck out of my playroom. I won’t tell you again.”
“I…”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”
Tonight, I’m taking back my kitchen. Since Dulip became the hottest restaurant in town, I’ve taken on a new chef, giving myself the time and dedication to the business side that is needed, but I’m fucking sick of it right now.
After the split with Tessa, I have way too much pent-up frustration to sit in the office and stew over it.
So, I’m going back to basics. I’m running my own kitchen, and the surge of satisfaction I get from the perfect plate of food has me coming up with all kinds of new ideas.
“Take these to table one. They asked for whatever I wanted to cook.” One of my best friends, Pierce, is here with his wife tonight and gave me carte blanche with their meal. As surgeons, they save lives every day, and I always want to prepare them an exceptional meal.
“I’m on it. I already served them drinks.” I love my staff. I interviewed and handpicked every hire. It’s imperative to have good, efficient workers out there representing my restaurant. If the food is great, but the servers are shit, you’re not going to succeed.
“Great. There are the appetizers, so keep an eye on when they’re done. I want the timing to be perfect for the main course.”
“These look amazing, boss.”
“Thanks, Rick. We should be ready to go with mains in about twenty minutes.”
“Perfect.” My head server conducts himself well in the restaurant and keeps this place running tight with the staff.
I’m making one of my favorite dishes. Nothing fancy, but it put my name on the map.
Chicken Scarpariello. I hand peel and fry up rosemary fries to go with it. A simple dish packed full of flavor, and something you could find at a restaurant in the hills of Tuscany.
I know everyone raves about French food, but Italian is where it’s at for me—simple ingredients, focusing on flavor over quantity.
We have a habit in this country of thinking we should add every ingredient in our kitchen to every dish.
I learned early on to pare it down and really put my heart into creating a perfect bite of food.
My grandmother—my nonna—was Italian, and my dad was always really proud of that. He owns a franchise of restaurants, but I would say his food is New York Italian, not Italian, Italian.
Some of my happiest moments have been made in the kitchen. It’s one of the things I love about food. A taste or a smell can take you back in time. Think how many of us have childhood memories of the dishes we would eat on the Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. Food is a time capsule.
Before my nonna died, she made sure I could make all of her dishes down to the last pinch of salt. I’m so glad she did. When I cook up a batch of her Napolitan sauce for the family, the atmosphere is close to what it was around her rustic dining table.
Rick appears with the empty plates from Pierce’s table right on time. I finish plating up their main course and hand them over. “You’re a legend, Rick.”
“Just be glad I love my job. If I didn’t, I would eat this right now. It smells fucking amazing.”
“I’ll make you one on your break. I’m feeling generous tonight, being back in here where the action’s at.”
“Sweet.”
He disappears with their food, and I go about filling orders.
On a Saturday night, we’re at one hundred percent capacity, booked out from opening to closing.
I couldn’t ask for anything more, but I’ve had to spend so much time on the business side, and VIPs want to talk to the owner.
I’d had enough last night, so I gave my head chef the night off, and I’m busting my balls back in the kitchen tonight.
It’s a fucking rush. Then, I’ll reward myself by losing myself in a willing sub for the night.
Pierce and Freya come back to give me props for their meal, especially my secret recipe dessert. “Fucking hell, Ry, that tiramisu is next level. Best I’ve ever had.”
“I would hope so. It’s my nonna’s family recipe. It’s easily a hundred and fifty years old.”
“Holy shit,” Freya exclaims.
Pierce looks to her. “You’ll pay for that cuss at the club tonight.”
“Promises, promises.” They only have eyes for each other. I’m chopped liver at this point.
“I’ll be swinging by Venom when I’m done.”
“Cool. We’ll leave you to it. Thanks again for such an incredible meal, Ry. It was nice to have a date night. We haven’t had the same night off in months.”
“Glad I could be of service. I’ll catch up with you at the club.”
“Good. Drinks are on me.”
“Deal.” I never charge my friends to eat at the restaurant. What’s the point in having success if you can’t share it with your friends and family? Hell, the guys at Venom are family now. We’ve all been through so much together.
The rest of my night goes by in a blur, and I love every second of it. By the time the last plates go out, I’ve worked up a thirst. I’ve always been such a hands-on person in all my endeavors, I really needed this.
The kitchen and waitstaff practically toss me out the door when I’m done, giving me a round of applause. I guess some of them weren’t around when I was running the kitchen every night. I’ll definitely be doing it more often now that I don’t have a sub to take care of.