4 #2
It was his eyes that had drawn her attention.
They were so intense and steely blue. He was tall and obviously fit, and his exposed calves were toned and tanned.
Dani shifted in her seat, looking anywhere but at the jogger.
Then, in a feeble attempt to look casual, she let her eyes drift over to the restaurant and across towards where the car park was, hoping her peripheral vision would be able to focus on him.
To her horror, he was still staring at her and she felt herself blush.
Crap! How embarrassing! He was blowing out the smoke in a steady stream and his mouth twitched.
Dani hastily picked up the brown envelope with her CV in and stood up.
Shit, she’d have to go in, even if she was fifteen minutes early.
She dropped her half-full coffee cup in the dustbin next to the railings and walked towards the restaurant entrance.
She couldn’t get the image of his beautiful sculptured mouth out of her head as she walked steadily across the road.
That’s all she needed. She had already been nervous and now she was flustered.
What was even more disturbing was that she knew he was still watching her. She just hoped she wouldn’t trip up.
As Dani reached the door, her heart thumped against her chest. Calm down; she willed herself.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy glass door and stepped inside, pleased she was out of the jogger’s view.
She smirked to herself and shook her head, then pushed open the second glass door and walked into the entrance area of La Casa d’Italia.
The interior was a complete contrast to the grey stone exterior.
The walls were light and the floor was a beautiful cream granite.
There were light-coloured, leather high-backed chairs around a selection of round, square and rectangular beech wood tables.
In the entrance area were a marble desk and a cloakroom.
The restaurant opened up and the bar area was to the left, lit by a mixed selection of large, funky-shaped bulbs, all hanging at different heights.
The main body of the restaurant had the tables arranged so that each had enough distance to ensure privacy.
There were booths along the right side and further in.
At the rear, raised up by three steps, was what looked like a private dining area with a black delicate curtain made entirely of fine strands of cord.
In the centre was a large, planted lemon tree, which made an unusual focal point.
The kitchen was to the right and semi-exposed so that customers could see inside.
The whole feel of the restaurant was chic and intimate without being claustrophobic.
It was airy and the ceilings were high, paired with concealed lighting and beautiful modern chandeliers.
Dani loved it immediately. She’d expected the generic style of the Italian restaurants she’d previously been used to.
Green, red and white everywhere and Italian statues, even paintings of the Coliseum or the Leaning Tower of Pisa; but there was nothing of that here, except for the unmistakable sound of Puccini floating from the kitchen.
Dani could hear a deep baritone voice singing along and she grinned to herself.
The restaurant was thick with the aroma of a sweet vanilla smell, making Dani’s mouth water.
Dani stood awkwardly, unsure what she should do.
She squinted to see if she could see who was singing in the kitchen and then, deciding she really couldn’t loiter in the entrance for another fifteen minutes, she paced towards the kitchen.
Standing by the kitchen door, she took a deep breath and tentatively pushed it open and peeped inside.
She was greeted by the sight of the back of a man.
He was of medium height, dressed in full chef attire with a red bandana around his head, waving a slotted spoon in the air in time to Tosca as he belted out the familiar piece.
The smell of whatever pastries he was frying was deliciously overpowering.
Dani waited until he finished his duet with the iPod docking station and then quietly, so as not to startle him, she coughed. “Excuse me.”
The man shot around, clearly surprised. His eyes were wide with shock.
“I’m so sorry. I’m here for an interview.”
The man quickly recovered and his face changed from shock to a wide smile.
“Interview?” he repeated. Dani nodded. He quickly fished out the pastries he was frying, then put down his spoon and turned off the burner that housed a large deep frying pan.
Then, taking the remote control out of his pocket, he turned down the music.
Further into the kitchen, Dani could see a young woman and another man.
Both were dressed in whites with white bandanas.
They seemed to be preparing vegetables. They both glanced in her direction momentarily.
“Sorry, my name’s Daniella Knox.” She held out her hand and he took it, lifting it to his lips and planting a kiss on it. Dani grinned, embarrassed at his gesture.
“Matteo. Pleased to meet you, Daniella.” He had a thick Italian accent, which made him endearing. He openly appraised her, making Dani shift nervously.
“I’m supposed to see a Peter Becker.” Her voice made Matteo’s eyes dart back to her face.
“I see. I’ll get him for you.” He walked over to an intercom placed on the wall. “You like Puccini?”
Dani furrowed her brow, a little puzzled at the question. “Yes.”
“Verdi?” he demanded.
“Yes.” She felt like it was a test.
He nodded and smiled, then pressed the intercom. A calm voice answered. “Yes?”
“Chef, there’s a Miss Daniella Knox to see you.”
“Oh, she’s early. Okay, I’ll be down in five minutes,” the calm voice answered.
“I’ll make her a coffee.”
“Okay.”
Matteo turned to her and smiled. “Coffee?”
“Um, yes, thank you.”
He nodded. “You like cannoli?”
Dani bit her lip nervously. “I don’t know, I’ve never had one. Is that what you’re making?” she asked bravely.
“Si. I get you one to try.“ He moved over to the other side of the kitchen and walked into what Dani presumed was a walk-in fridge.
Matteo emerged with a tray of around twenty long pastries, which had a creamy mixture piped in them, each end rimmed with chocolate and chopped pistachios.
He lifted one off with some tongs and placed it on a plate, then returned the tray to the fridge.
He motioned to Dani to leave the kitchen and he followed her out and led her to the bar.
“Sit down, Daniella. What coffee would you like?” he placed the plate in front of her and pulled out a thick paper napkin and fork and set them on the bar.
He was stout and middle aged – early fifties, Dani guessed – but he moved with grace and every gesture was done with a flourish.
His face was kind and he had a mischievous glint in his eye.
It made Dani smile. She sat up on a bar stool and placed her CV on the bar.
“Espresso, please.” Matteo beamed and set to work on the large, impressive coffee machine.
“Try the cannoli.” He eyed her as she picked up the fork. “It’s better if you eat it with your hands,” he suggested.
Oh! Dani set down the fork and picked up the pastry and took a bite.
Oh my! she thought as she chewed. It was delicious.
The flavour of the shell was crossed between vanilla, pancakes and a crispy ice cream cone.
The creamy centre had a hint of orange. It was a perfect combination of slightly bitter dark chocolate and sweet cream.
Dani moaned as she savoured it, closing her eyes in appreciation.
Matteo’s eyes widened as he placed her coffee down and then picked up his own.
“That’s absolutely delicious. You made this?”
Matteo nodded. “I’m the head chef. Usually my pastry chef prepares my recipes, but she’s off today.”
“This is your own recipe?”
Matteo nodded, clearly pleased with her reaction. “I make them smaller than usual, so they stay crispy,” he explained.
“No wonder my brother-in-law loves this place,” she muttered as she picked up the cannoli and took another bite.
“You like Italian cuisine?” he asked.
Dani grinned at his continuing inquisition. “I love it, Matteo!”
Matteo beamed, obviously delighted with her response. Dani put down her delicate pastry and sipped her coffee. It was seriously strong and exactly how she liked it. If she got this job, she’d need to enrol in a gym fast, purely so that she could keep sampling everything.
Her attention was distracted by some footsteps coming from the rear of the restaurant.
She turned to see who it was and was faced with a slim, well-groomed man in his late forties.
His hair was greying and cut short. He wore an immaculate charcoal grey suit with a crisp white shirt and pale blue tie, matching his eyes. His face lit up as he focused on Dani.
“Morning, Capo,” he said to Matteo.
Dani looked puzzled. Capo?
“Morning, Chef,” Matteo replied to the grey-haired man.
That’s funny. Thought Dani. I thought Matteo was the chef.
“This is Daniella Knox.”
Dani slid off her seat and extended her hand. The grey haired man took it and shook it firmly. His eyes twinkled as he smiled. “Peter Becker. Pleased to meet you. I hope Matteo has been looking after you.”
“Yes, thank you. I’ve sampled his divine cannoli.”
“Divine?” Peter’s eyebrows shot up at the description.
“Mmm, definitely.”
“Well, please finish it. Capo, do you think I could have an espresso?”
“Sure, Chef.”
Dani frowned again, then took her final bite of the cannoli. Closing her eyes as she chewed, she then licked some of the creamy filling she had on her index finger. Both men looked on, transfixed. Dani wiped her hands on the napkin and looked expectantly up at Peter.