Chapter 10 Sophie
Sophie
When Rocco finally slouches into the restaurant, I don’t need to check the clock to know he’s late. He swaggers in like he owns the place, plucks a meatball from my carefully arranged plate, and slaps my ass so hard I drop my knife.
A tiny ball of rage explodes in my brain.
“Rocco!” I slam my palm on the counter, rattling the metal pans of prepped vegetables. “Do not touch me like that. Ever.”
I feel rather than see his smirk as he pivots to stand behind me. When he drapes himself around me and reaches for another meatball, I trap his hand against the counter with the flat of my knife.
“You’re pissed I didn’t want to go to that party with you last night, right?” His breath is damp on my neck. “Aww, babe, come on. You know we’re not dating. Just fucking, remember?”
He nuzzles into my neck, and everything in me recoils. Last night, Vin stood behind me in this exact position but with the exact opposite effect.
I shrug him off and whirl to face him, knife still in hand. “You’re half right. We are not dating. But we are also not fucking anymore either, Rocco. We hooked up twice in the past, and the past is done. If you want to keep working here, show up on time, do not touch me, and do your job.”
Rocco leans theatrically through the pass-through window, scanning the empty dining room. “Because we’re so busy, right? If I’m not here to do my job, what happens? That one lonely bastard out there has to wait an extra three minutes for his lasagna?”
He laughs in my face, and I set my jaw. “Rocco. Go home.”
A sneer immediately replaces his grin. “What the fuck did you just say to me.”
It’s not a question. It’s a threat. I straighten up to my full height and point at the back doorway leading to the staff break room, but when I open my mouth to speak he grabs my jaw and pushes his face into mine. “Think carefully before you speak.”
I wrench free from his grip, tasting coppery blood. “You’re right about one thing. We don’t need you. Especially if you’re not going to work. Go. Home.”
He grabs my face again, squeezes harder, menace in every fiber of his body, then slaps me. Hard. I gasp and hold my cheek.
“You think you’re better than me because you own this pile of shit?” Venom drips from every syllable. “This shitty restaurant is circling the drain, and when it goes under, you’ll be out on the street. We’ll see who’s on top then.”
From the other side of the pass-through window, my waitress Lisa clears her throat nervously. I don’t turn until Rocco is out of the kitchen. He slams the door to the staff room, and I sigh.
“What is it, Lisa?”
“There’s a customer. He’s, um, he’s not happy with the menu. He’s demanding to talk to you.” Her voice trembles. She’s only 19, sweet and gorgeous, but she always gets nervous around Rocco for some reason.
“A customer?” I glance at the clock then turn toward her, keeping Rocco in my peripheral. We’re not even open yet, and the one party we have scheduled isn’t due for another hour. “Is it Mr. Cavallari?”
She shakes her head, glossy black hair swinging. “No. I’ve never seen him before. Oh and….” She ducks her head, looking up at me through her lashes. “That big party today? They just called to cancel. I’m sorry, Chef.”
I toss the half-rolled meatballs back into the tray with more force than necessary when a man’s voice cuts in.
“Why isn’t the pesto from last night on the menu?”
FRIG! I almost jump out of my skin. Vin’s standing at the pass-through, filling the window with his broad shoulders, eyes locked on me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
“What are you doing here?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Wow, nice customer service. No wonder this place is empty.”
I scrunch my nose at him, turning slightly away from him in case my cheek is as red as it feels from Rocco’s slap. “I’m busy, Vin. Do you need something?”
“I have a better question,” Rocco interjects, coming to stand beside me and glaring at Vin through the pass-through. “What the fuck is he talking about ‘last night’? You told me you were going to a party, not serving pesto to random men.”
Vin puffs his chest and tilts his head at Rocco. “The fuck business is it of yours?”
Instead of answering, Rocco turns to me, his eye twitching. “Are you fucking him? Is that why you think you can act like—”
“Rocco!” Embarrassment floods through me, and I hold up a hand to stop him. “You were on your way out the last I checked. And Lisa, if the big party isn’t coming in, you can go home, too.”
Lisa glances nervously over her shoulder at Vin, who is tracking all of this with predatory precision. “What about—”
I wipe my hands on my apron and smile at her. “Vin is a friend, Lisa. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take it from here. Thank you so much.”
Relief washes over her face and she nods, already untying her apron as she hurries to the break room.
Rocco doesn’t move. He’s staring at me, Vin is staring at him, and I turn back to my meatballs like a stand-off isn’t happening right next to me.
Finally Rocco stalks toward the break room, slamming the door shut again.
As soon as he’s gone, Vin turns his laser focus on me. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”
I flick my gaze up to meet his but keep working on the meatballs. “I didn’t tell you I had a boyfriend because I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“But you’re fucking him.”
My hands still for a half second, but I don’t answer. “Vin, do you need something?”
He sucks in a breath and narrows his eyes at me. “I’m guessing you didn’t mention to him that I spent last night at your place.”
I toss the meatball into the pan and sigh, looking up at him. “Why would I? I told you he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Is he your brother? Related to you in any way?”
I shake my head.
“Then you’re fucking him. No man acts like that over a woman he’s not related to or fucking.”
“Vin! I’m not—”
“What’s wrong with your face?” His eyes narrow as he firmly tips my jaw toward him. “Your cheek is all red.”
My eyes widen for a moment as I realize I lost focus and forgot to shield my cheek from Vin. It must be as red as I thought it was.
I swat his hand away, the words tumbling out fast. “I’m embarrassed! I’m blushing! You come into my place of work, grilling me over something that is none of your business. And what are you doing here anyway? I made a lunch for you.”
“I ate it already.”
“It wasn’t enough?” My heart almost explodes with happiness. I packed that lunch like I was feeding an army.
“No, it wasn’t.” His expression softens for a moment, and he holds my gaze.
A huge BANG comes from the break room. We both turn toward the sound in time to see the door shudder in its frame. Another BANG, and my blood turns to ice. Lisa is in there with Rocco. Is he taking out his rage on a 19-year-old girl because I rejected him?
I’m moving before I finish the thought, yanking the door open so hard it rebounds off the wall. What I see stops me cold.
Bent over the table, her pants just barely pulled down over her ass, her arms spread out wide is Lisa. Rocco is behind her, balls deep in her ass, grunting with each brutal thrust that slams the table into the metal lockers.
Neither notices me at first. Then Lisa turns her head and shrieks when she sees me, covering her face with both hands.
Terror spikes through me. “Lisa, are you okay? Do you need help?”
“Get the fuck out,” Rocco barks, not slowing down.
Behind me, Vin fills the doorway, bristling. “Does she need help or not?”
“Lisa!”
“I’m—okay. I’m—okay.” Every word is punctuated by a thrust and the metallic bang of the table against the lockers. “I’m—sorry—Chef!”
I back out and slam the door, shaking. I can’t meet Vin’s eyes.
What the fuck is Rocco thinking? Is this to punish me for ending things with him? For sending him home? For Vin? I’m a three-star Michelin rated chef. I cannot have a rogue sous chef in my establishment fucking my staff in the break room and defying me at every turn.
“You look upset, princess.” Vin is smirking at me, as I stare into the kitchen blindly, trying to figure out what the fuck is happening to my life. “You bothered that your girl is getting laid at work? Technically, she was off the clock.”
I don’t move or respond, my mind racing.
Vin’s voice sharpens. “Or is this about the guy? You’re fucking him, and you’re jealous.”
I whirl on him, scowling. “Vincenzo, this is a work issue. That’s it.”
Vin narrows his eyes at me, catching my chin, gentle but firm, and turns my face toward the light. “Still just blushing? Tell me why your face looks like that.”
I jerk away. “So you’re calling me a liar and ugly. Thanks so much.”
“No, princess.” His voice softens. “You’re beautiful. But one side of your face is red and swollen, and I want to know if you’re okay.”
Beautiful. Rolling my eyes, I scan the kitchen, looking for something heavy I can throw. Beautiful I am not. “Do not play with me right now, Vincenzo.”
“Play with you? I want to help.”
This is my freaking restaurant, my staff, my kitchen. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Rocco intimidate me. I start tossing through cooking utensils, pans, lids, throwing the heaviest ones onto a metal rolling cart.
“Oh yeah, Vin? You want to help me?” I grab my meat cleaver and toss it onto the cart with a clang. “How are you going to do that?”
“If you want, I could bend you over that counter and do to you what he’s doing to her. Even things up.”
I huff out a breath, shoving past him with the cart. “You want to help me, Vin? Get behind me.”
Vin grins. “That’s how it starts, princess.”
I whip the door open and hoist a heavy cast-iron skillet over my head. “Rocco! Get the frig off her and get out of my freaking restaurant. Right. Now.”
Rocco doesn’t even glance my way, just keeps pounding into Lisa.
I don’t hesitate. I throw the skillet, hitting him in the back of the head with a satisfying thunk.
He rears back, roaring, but I’m already reaching for the next pan.
This one catches him square between the shoulder blades.
Rocco rips away from Lisa, sweat on his brow and his dick out.
I snatch the cleaver off the cart and take a step toward him as he lunges.
Vin throws me backward, putting himself between us. “Fuck with someone your own size, fucker.”
“Vincenzo!” He half glances at me over his shoulder, and I lower my voice. “Behind me. This is my kitchen.”
Vin grumbles something under his breath and shifts to the side. He’s still in front of me but no longer blocking my line of sight.
I meet Rocco’s eyes. “Get out. We’re done here.”
“You don’t tell me what to do, bitch,” Rocco grinds out, fists clenched, knuckles white.
Vin growls and takes a step forward, but I cut him off.
“In my restaurant, yes, I do.” My voice is icy. “You and I will discuss the terms of your employment when you are ready to have a calm, respectful conversation. Until then, you are banned from the Arsenal.”
Rocco tucks himself back into his pants, eyes locked on Vin. “No conversation needed.”
As he moves toward the door and toward me, Vin blocks his path, silent and immovable. The two men face off, chests heaving, as Lisa scrambles to pull up her leggings and fix her hair behind Rocco.
“That’s enough. Rocco, go. Lisa, clean up and go home.”
When they’re gone, I head back to the kitchen, back to my station, where the meatballs are still unfinished. Vin leans against a counter, his hands in his pockets. He’s watching me, but I can’t look at him.
“Will I see you at the house later?” I ask.
“That’s the plan.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I’ve got some business right now, but is it okay if I come back and get lunch later. Those meatballs look good. Asking because it’s your restaurant.”
I stay focused on the meatballs, hoping he doesn’t see the smile I can’t stop from spreading across my face. “We open at noon.”