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"Um...no. Just, uh..." I stumble over my words, distracted by his broad chest. "Just my purse, I guess. And maybe a jacket.”
"There are plenty of coats in the front closet."
He gestures towards the front entrance, and when I walk ahead of him, I feel his hand land on the back of my neck, warm and heavy, not grabbing or forcing, just resting there in an oddly comforting and possessive gesture. "Go on," he murmurs, following behind me. "Get your things and I'll meet you in the foyer."
I can't tell if this is the beginning of something...or if Dominic Falcone—a hot older, experienced, and dangerous mafia man—is just a naturally touchy person.
The former is what my heart wants, but the latter would be safer. But I can't help but hope as I feel Dominic's eyes burning into me while I bound up the stairs, feeling lighter and more free than I have in months.
4
DAISY
"Have you ever filled a cannoli before?"
I pause in tying the apron behind me, looking at the older woman with a self-conscious grin. "Ah...no. I don't think I've ever eaten one, either."
Marie, the pastry and dessert chef Dominic assigned me to work with, is an older Italian woman who is at least 2 inches shorter than me and a million times more intimidating. She puts her hands on her hips, glaring as she looks me up and down, before she sighs in defeat.
"Guess there's nothing to do about it. Mr. Falcone wants me to teach you, so I'll teach you. Come over here."
The drive to Il Fiore Raro was so fraught with tension between Dominic and me that I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. The sports car we took was only a two-seater, and Dominic is so huge that I felt like I was almost in his lap.
He drove like a maniac, speeding down the streets with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my leg, like he had to constantly touch me even if it was only a few inches away from my body. I could feel his warmth through his hand, and it was all I could focus on.
And then, of course, there were the looks.
Dominic took his eyes off the road several times to glance over at me, a heavy, heated look I couldn’t read, and it made my stomach squirm and twist, making me bite my lip.
It was a relief when we finally pulled up to the restaurant, even if being around him was still nerve-wracking.
"Pay attention." Marie's stern voice snaps me out of my thoughts and brings me back to the present moment. "Filling the cannoli isn't difficult, but if you mess it up, that's less for us to work with."
"Right."
"I'll show you how to do it, and then you try. We'll start with the regular cream, and if Mr. Falcone approves, we'll add chocolate next."
I watch closely as Maria shows me exactly how to fill the cannolis, and then gives me a piping bag full of cream, watching like a hawk as I begin to fill each one. My hands are shaking a bit, but after a few minutes, they still, and my movements become quick and efficient.
"Hm." Marie looks surprised. "You're not as hopeless as I expected."
I giggle a little, pausing before starting the next. "Not the compliment I usually receive, but thanks."
She chuckles, her stern demeanor thawing slightly. "No, not bad at all. If Mr. Falcone likes these, we'll make a pastry chef out of you."
I beam proudly. "Really?"
"I'll speak highly of you. Now hurry up, we have dozens more to fill."
"Yes, ma'am."
I finish the tray, and Marie adds them to the large commercial refrigerator, bringing out another one. "Let's see how you do with the chocolate."
After a few attempts, Dominic comes into the kitchen, and Marie and I both snap to attention.
"Sir," she greets him. "I'm showing Daisy how to fill cannolis. She's a quick learner, and the cream turned out well."
Dominic's lips twitch in a ghost of a smile, and his dark eyes glitter as he looks me up and down, taking in my hair that's now tied up into a ponytail, my flour-dusted apron, and my pink cheeks.
