Chapter 28
NICK
The end of the year was approaching, so I wanted to gather the data from when we first opened the restaurant in June.
I stared at the numbers, ensuring they weren’t playing tricks on me.
Over the past couple of weeks, Melanie suggested posting on our Instagram page.
It was free, so I thought, why not? She revised our menu, removing all the American dishes, and suggested offering curbside delivery and pickup.
I agreed to try it out, but we would revert to the old menu if it didn’t improve sales.
She’s been posting content daily, sometimes up to four times a day.
Then, somehow, she convinced me to be in a video she recorded.
Shortly after, she suggested bringing my mom in on a couple of them.
In one of them, we recorded her making our homemade pasta, along with saying, ciao " and, arrivederci, at the end of each video.
The first video of me got over two hundred thousand views and thousands of likes.
The second video with my mom and me reached over half a million views.
The third one was of me talking about my passion for cooking, which got over a million views.
My phone pinged repeatedly, distracting me, and when I looked over at the notifications, it was comment after comment.
O.M.G. He is so hot!
Can I personally hire you to cook for me at my house? In nothing but tight boxers?
A man that can cook is so fucking sexy.
Are you married?
I want to have your babies!
Where is the restaurant located?
I never liked Italian food, but now I think I love it!
You and your mom are so adorable. Can you hire me as your personal server?
It turns out Mel was right–sex sells. She said I had movie-star good looks, and at first, I didn’t believe her, but the vitality of the videos is proving her right.
She also persuaded me to think that if I showed my love for my mom and cooking, it would make women swoon and want to come and eat at the restaurant just to see me.
I had to say, the girl wasn’t dumb when it came to this production stuff. She knew how to work magic with that phone of hers. It would explain why our sales are up twenty percent, and this month isn’t even over yet, but we’ve already exceeded every other month in revenue.
“Okay, I’m convinced Alexa is paying my customers to hate me. Why do I always get these tables who have like a million allergies or are so damn picky, I need a notebook to write down their order.” Melanie says as she places a plate on my desk.
“Here, apparently, the chicken with this pasta dish is too dry. Whatever the hell that means.”
“Did you tell LeRoy?”
“Yeah, he said he can’t do anything to fix it, so he’s making a new Pollo alla Marsala.”
Her Italian accent was improving the more she was around my mom and I, and for some reason it turned me the hell on.
“Well, he’s right, you can undercook something then cook it more, but you can’t redo the cooking that’s already been done.”
“Makes sense. So what are you looking at? You’ve been staring at those papers for hours?”
“Just crunching some numbers?” I say move the plate of food to the side.
“Oh? And what have you come up with?”
“That if you keep up the hard work with this marketing, then I’ll be able to afford to replace your position, and we can live the American dream of entrepreneurs and be at home while others run our business.”
“Really? The sales have gone up?” She says with a wide grin.
I nodded. “Almost a twenty-one percent increase this month.”
She twirls and takes a bow, her ponytail flinging to the ground. When she faces upright, she says, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Never said I did.”
“Oh, please, pretty sure when we first met, that’s all you did.”
“No, when we first met, I wanted to stick my dick in your mouth to teach that pretty-potty mouth of yours a lesson.”Perfect.
Her cheeks flush deep, and it hits me like a goddamn wrecking ball to the gut.
I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to pin her against the nearest wall and take her — not gently, not sweetly — but rough and brutal, like the animal she’s turned me into.
Sex was supposed to keep this clean. Simple.
But it’s only made it worse. Now everything between us hums, strung tight, every look a dare, every accidental brush of skin a fucking ignition.
I haven’t made love to her. I won’t. I can’t.
Because if I do, I’ll lose what’s left of my self-control.
I thought keeping it impersonal — no kissing, no soft shit — would keep my heart out of it. Keep me safe.
I was wrong.
The second my dick touched her, it rewired me. Now, the scent of her skin, the way she breathes when she looks at me — it’s killing me slowly.
“But, I was wrong about the princess name, I think sugar tits would suit you more now that—” My gaze drops, no shame, no apology, lingering at her chest. “I know how sweet you taste.”I wink, cocky, desperate to cover the way I’m unraveling.
She scoffs, pretending she doesn’t feel it too, but her cheeks are burning and her nipples are hard under that flimsy shirt.
“Would it kill you to admit I’m better at something than you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
My voice is casual, even, hiding the chaos raging inside me.
She rolls her eyes hard. “Did they forget to teach you manners at school in this backward town, a simple thank you would suffice, fuck face.”
“There’s that filthy mouth of yours.” I shove my chair back with a sharp scrape, the noise like a starting gun in my ears, and I stalk toward her, my body already in motion before my brain can catch up.
She steps back, step for step, like some part of her wants to be caught.
My cock aches, straining against the tightness of my boxers, the friction of every movement enough to make me grit my teeth.
When I reach her, I spin her fast, slamming her chest against the wall hard enough to make the pictures rattle.
My palms flatten over her hips, my mouth ghosting over the shell of her ear.
“The way I thank you is making you cum, princess.” My voice is shredded with lust and something darker, something that feels a lot like ownership.
I run my hands up her body, slow and rough, dragging the fabric with me.
I slip under her bra, fingers grazing the stiff peaks of her nipples.
She shudders in my hands, so fucking responsive, so mine.
Without a second thought, I wrench her around, greedier than I mean to be.
I yank her shirt up, shove the bra aside, and latch my mouth onto one tight nipple, sucking hard.
She gasps, the sound shooting straight to my cock like a lightning bolt.
My other hand grips her ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
“Please,” she whispers.
That one word shatters the last of my defenses.
I seize her mouth, devouring her, all tongue and teeth, no tenderness, no mercy.
My hands map her body roughly, memorizing every inch.
I grind my cock against her, desperate for more friction, more contact, more fucking everything.A low, desperate moan spills from her as I jam my hand into her pants, rubbing my knuckles against her soaked panties.
“Always so wet for me.”
“How do you know it’s for you? Maybe Johnny came to visit me?”
Jealousy flashes white-hot through my veins, and I shove two fingers inside her, hard enough to make her back arch.
“Open your mouth.”
She obeys instantly — sweet, dirty little thing — and I yank my wet fingers free, sliding them between her lips.
“Suck.”
She moans around my fingers, her lashes fluttering, her big blue eyes drowning in lust.
“Do you like tasting yourself?”
She nods, desperate, needy, mine.
I pull my fingers from her mouth and slam them back inside her pussy, harder, deeper.
“Would you like to feel my cum inside you?”
Her eyes go wide and fuck, the thought of filling her up, seeing my cum leak out of her, almost has me blowing my load right there.
“I want to see my cum oozing out of that tight pussy.”
I bite her bottom lip, hard, dragging it between my teeth, my fingers fucking into her with brutal precision, determined to make her fall apart.
“You’d think you like that, princess?”
She’s about to answer — her body already starting to shake in my hands — when the door slams open like a goddamn gunshot.
We break apart instantly, guilt and frustration slamming into me like a freight train.
“Mom, don’t you knock?”
“No, because this is an office, not a bedroom, Niccolo. But it’s nice to see you two working on that baby making.”
I could strangle her. I could scream. Instead, I force my face into something close to neutral, my cock still painfully hard, my balls aching.
“Mom, don’t start that now.”
“I’m just saying,” she says with a chirpy shrug, oblivious, “Colt and Abigail will be having a little one soon, and it will be nice to see my son follow suit like Nora’s.”
I groan, running a hand through my hair in frustration.
“Uh, I better get back and check on my tables.” Mel bolts, leaving me standing there, strung out, raging hard, and ready to snap.