Love’s Influence by Tori Alvarez
Chapter 5
Dinner this eveningis in the main dining room, unlike yesterday’s pairing, which was held in a private conference room. The dining room is bustling with people milling about. It isn’t a packed house, but it seems to be steady. I wonder why Daré alla Lucé has influencers out here if they seem to be doing well.
The pre-dinner cocktail is a delicious peach spritzer. It really is a perfect Texas summer drink—light, fruity, and cold. The conversations around me are the same as usual. Follower counts, building business, and which paid partnerships they have or are trying to acquire. None, I repeat none, have discussed the experience thus far. I wonder if they even like what they have experienced or are hiding what they think for their own posts.
I miss talking with my friends about things and bouncing ideas off of them.
“What did y’all think of the shops in town?” I ask the table, unsure whether they will answer.
“There’s a few cute shops, but for the most part, eh…” Brenda states first. “It not a fashion-forward city, I’ll just put it that way.”
Wow… Did she think it would be?
“Fashion forward or not, I found a few cute pieces to mix and match. That’s what I like about fashion, you don’t have to follow the herd,” Tammi thankfully interjects.
“I liked the original items they had. Not only the clothes, but I love boutique shopping for gifts. I like getting loved ones gifts they don’t see the masses with.” I figured I could throw a bit of shade her way also.
“To each their own.” Brenda looks down at her nails shaking her head.
“So what did you do in town if you didn’t like the shops?” an influencer I have not met asks.
“I stopped at a couple of the tasting rooms. I need a buzz to be able to handle all this excitement.” She rolls her eyes, the sarcasm dripping. “I don’t know what I’m going to do for another day here. I wonder if I can cancel the reservation I booked for tomorrow night?”
I can’t wait for my extended time here, and she’s ready to leave. This just shows how different we are.
Just then Carson and Kevin walk up to our table, halting the conversation. I wonder if they heard her last statement.
“For our last meal on the property, you will be ordering like a guest. We want you to experience the two types of dining we offer, wine-pairing dinners and the full restaurant. The wine pairings are not nightly but will be done on a weekly or biweekly basis, depending on the demand. I hope you were able to go through all the information in the welcome packets that were passed out yesterday. Along with the itinerary, there was information on the spa treatments we could bring in for couples or girls trips, and the calendar of events for not only the hotel, but also places in town. We hoped to give you a taste of what you could experience on a longer, more relaxing trip.” Carson begins what seems like a good-bye, or more accurately, a good riddance. By his tone and stiff posture, I’m not sure he is sold on influencers.
“Also, we are not the only winery in the area. There are dozens upon dozens, but of course, we wanted to showcase ours. I do hope you stop in and visit one on your way back home tomorrow. I included the full list of wineries in the area.
“Tomorrow morning, for those who would like, we have partnered with a small bakery in town for coffee and muffins. The driver will be leaving the property at eight-thirty and the return time will be ten. This will still give you time in your room prior to check out at eleven. We will have staff available to walk with you on the property if anyone would like pictures in the vines. The staff will be available until noon. Thank you so much for joining us, and we hope you had a wonderful experience. We will leave you now to enjoy your meal.” Carson’s enthusiasm isn’t on display as it was yesterday.
He turns quickly and walks away into the kitchen.
“What is everyone going to eat? Wanna plan so we can get pics of each other’s plates?” Tammi asks the group.
When no one answers her, I chime in, “What were you thinking? I haven’t decided yet.”
“Why don’t I switch with you if y’all are going to partner up,” the woman to my right tells Tammi.
“That would be great. Thank you.” Tammi and the lady to my right stand and switch as everyone scans the menu.
This is going to be a long, boring dinner, I think to myself. Besides Tammi, the rest seem to fall in line with Brenda.
A waitress taps me on the shoulder, “Excuse me, Olivia, correct?”
“Yes.” My brows pull together in question.
She hands me a small slip of paper and continues to stand behind me. I open it, keeping it close, not wanting prying eyes on what’s inside.
Would you like to sit at the chef’s table? If so, please follow Emily.
Lorenzo
My lips spreadas I fold the paper back in half. I turn around to face who I’m guessing is Emily, “Do I follow you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excuse me, ladies,” I announce to the table as I stand to follow Emily.
“Where are you going so happy?” Brenda, of course, is the first to ask, annoyance filling her words.
“I was invited to the chef’s table. Enjoy your dinner. Sorry we can’t share, Tammi.” I do feel bad leaving her on her own.
I begin following Emily as I hear Brenda state loudly, “I wonder how she managed that?” Her implication is not lost on me.
Through the kitchen doors I follow as Emily leads me to a stool placed next to a steel prep station with a place setting for one.
“Thank you.” I tell Emily as I place my purse and drink down on the cold surface.
“Can I get you anything while you wait for Chef?”
“I’m fine.” The excitement of this one-of-a-kind dinner is about to bubble over. The only thing missing is my camera. I watch as the sous chefs are busy, each one working in a different area with Lorenzo at the head, checking each dish before it leaves the kitchen. The pictures I could take in here would be amazing, but I could never capture the sounds and smell. Lorenzo calls another chef to head the kitchen before walking my way.
“Olivia. I’m so glad you said yes.”
“Are you kidding me? How could I pass this up?” I take a sip of my drink to calm the elation at the invitation.
A laugh escapes his lips at my enthusiasm. “What can I make you?”
“I’m not telling a chef what to cook. I’m willing to eat whatever you would like to serve me,” I answer, catching the innuendo after the statement left my mouth.
He bends down to look me in the eyes, “Your wish is my command.” Then he comes in closer, his breath tickling my neck as he whispers, “I won’t be serving the last course until much later tonight.” He places a quick kiss on my neck.
He winks at me before walking back towards the cooking area of the kitchen. Gah! Those winks are going to be the death of me. I watch him interact with his sous chefs as they gracefully move around each other, never seeming to be in each other’s way. I take out my phone, wanting to capture this behind-the-scenes experience.
Not moving out of the area of the prep table, I walk around the table, trying to get different angles, zooming in and out as much as the phone camera allows. I know the phone takes wonderful pictures, there’s just something about holding a real camera and rotating the lens. Maybe it’s a security blanket for me, a validation for my blog.
After taking several pictures, I sit down and have sip of the spritzer. I am captivated by all the motion and conversations in the kitchen. The wait staff in and out, sometimes taking small quick breaths, laughing and joking with each other. The camaraderie is evident.
“Olivia?” Carson’s voice startles me. I don’t know where he came from.
“Hello, Carson,” I answer smiling.
“What are you doing in the kitchen?” His lips purse.
“Uh…” I didn’t think about what Carson would think of this. Is he going to ask me to leave? “Lorenzo invited me to have dinner in here,” I answer honestly, hoping it doesn’t backfire.
“He did, did he?” One side of his lips pulls up a tad.
“I did,” Lorenzo answers, walking up behind Carson, carrying a plate. “She has a blog in addition to her social media account. She impressed me with the content.”
Lorenzo places the plate in front of me as Emily walks through the door with a wine glass and a mini carafe of white wine. She places both in front of me, quickly walking away.
Looking directly at me, he begins, “I know you have already tasted the oysters, but I thought I would serve it with a Sauvignon Blanc. Tell me what you think.” He then turns to Carson. “Have you checked out her blog? It’s in-depth and honest, and she covers diverse places.”
I’m surprised Lorenzo has looked into my blog. I didn’t think he would bother.
He pours a small amount of wine in my glass.
Lorenzo turns to me again, “Taste. Please.”
Both Lorenzo and Carson face me. It’s a bit unnerving having two men watch me take my first bite. The buttery goodness I remember hits along with the burst of the oyster. I pick up the wine glass, taking a sip. My eyes widen with the way the flavors transform. The two balance each out.
“You like?” Lorenzo asks.
I nod my head, still chewing.
“I thought you would. Now I’m off to make your next course. And Carson, you should talk to her about the blog. She has some great ideas.” He takes a couple of steps towards the cooking stations, turning back around and gracing me with a sinful smirk behind Carson’s back. Carson must suspect there is something going on with us if Lorenzo invited me to have dinner in the kitchen but left all the other influencers in the dining room.
“Olivia, please tell me about this blog Lorenzo is raving about.”
I take a sip of my wine. “It’s my personal blog. I’m not sure how you found me, but social media is not my sole way of promoting. It has actually become the quick-draw way to bring people to the blog. That is where I do my in-depth write-ups of places.”
“Hmm. Interesting.”
“Can I ask how you found the influencers you invited? Was there a rationale behind the invites?” I ask before my brain registers it may have come across a bit snotty.
“To be honest, I saw an article in an Austin magazine about up-and-coming local influencers and got the idea. I wish I could say I did a lot of planning, but I read the article and decided to send the invitation to those highlighted for an early June weekend. I was hoping y’all would drive some summer business. We have only been open three months.”
“I see.” I immediately understand why some of these influencers were invited. A couple of them are known for their fashion and partnerships, but not really food and travel. Everyone has their niche, and some didn’t quite fit the mold for this place.
“Go get your laptop, Carson, and you can see what I’m talking about. Olivia can share her ideas.” Lorenzo comes up to us again and places a caprese salad in front of me.
Carson looks at Lorenzo and walks away.
“I just bought us a quick moment. I didn’t think we were going to be disturbed.” He comes in close to whisper the last sentence, placing a kiss right below my ear. “And a little hint, if you’re agreeable, I’m planning on us being alone this evening, so drink at your own risk.” His voice drops an octave. He pulls back; our eyes connect, and his pupils dilate. My heart thumps hard and fast with nervous energy.
The clank of a stool breaks us apart. Carson has a stool in one hand and his laptop is tucked under his other arm.
“May I?” He places the stool down on the opposite side of me where Lorenzo is leaning against the prep table.
“Of course,” I answer quickly.
“Enjoy.” Lorenzo walks away again.
“Please eat. I’ll be right back.” Carson walks out the kitchen doors to the dining area.
With a few moments alone, I take a few bites and am in awe of the freshness of the mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil in each bite. Carson comes back in the kitchen holding a glass of red wine.
“What is the name of your blog? I would like to look it up.” Carson opens his laptop.
“All About SA. A couple of years ago I realized I wanted to write so much more than I could fit in the characters allowed in the picture captions on social media, so I began the blog. It was more of a personal travel journal for me in the beginning. All the cool restaurants and places I was able to visit and be a part of through my socials. But it evolved, and people began following me. Now I capture the audience with social media but drive them to my site, which is a more in-depth look at the places I visit.”
As I’m speaking, I watch Carson typing out his search for my site. I take another bite, wanting to enjoy everything Lorenzo prepares for me. I look towards Lorenzo again and notice his ease in the kitchen as he creates another masterpiece I will get to enjoy. A meal made by his hands.
“Please, tell me about your ideas Lorenzo mentioned.” He picks up his glass of wine, taking a sip and watching me.
How will I speak and try to eat at the same time? I guess it’s time to showcase what I have created.
“As you highlighted all the hotel, winery, and town had to offer, I decided this trip could not be shared in one blog post. I would have to break it up into different posts. I haven’t decided how I’ll break it up yet. I’m still trying to decide how to theme each post, but I’m excited by the thought of it.” I share quickly, wanting to finish up with Carson so I can focus on Lorenzo.
“Very interesting.” Carson listens intently. “Did you extend your stay? I know only a couple of the influencers did.”
“Yes. I took advantage of the price and will be staying until Friday morning.” I smile, looking forward to this time to write and spend time alone with Lorenzo, without the prying eyes of the influencers who I know want the gossip on him.
“Wonderful. Can we set up a formal meeting tomorrow? I would love to speak to you some more about your ideas. And since you would technically be working, I would like to comp your room for the remainder of your stay.” Carson surprises me with his last offer.
“Of course, I would love to meet tomorrow. I’m excited to share my ideas with you and learn more.”
“Perfect. Here’s my card. Call me in the morning, and we can set up a time to meet. I want to let you enjoy your meal that Lorenzo is taking the time to prepare himself.” Carson hands me a card he pulled out of his wallet.
If he has any thoughts about Lorenzo and I, he is keeping those thoughts to himself. His face is neutral, showing no hint of approval or displeasure. He closes his laptop, tucking it under his arm again and taking his glass of wine with him as he exits the kitchen.
I love talking about my blog, the excitement of others finding and enjoying the places I love, but tonight I’m glad it was cut short. Lorenzo’s teasing while making the dishes is causing a heightened sense of arousal that was being dampened by Carson’s presence.
I take one last bite of the caprese salad before waiting on the next course. I don’t want to be completely bloated from a multi-course dinner if I will be seeing him later.
He is standing in front of burners vigorously stirring something in a pot. His white chef’s coat sleeves are rolled up, displaying his strong forearm that is covered in tattoos. He brings the whisk up as he tests the consistency of the sauce he is working on. I pick up my phone to snap another picture; this one for myself. A keepsake from the best summer kickoff I’ve ever had.
This week will be one to remember and then back to reality next week. As attracted as I am to him, I’m mentally preparing myself for a sinfully fun week with no attachments. No telling how many other woman he has wooed with his charm, delectable lips, and cuisine. The old saying that the way to man’s heart is through his stomach can easily be flipped to women. A fine-ass man in the kitchen preparing my food is stuff dreams are made of.
He begins plating, his focus only on the food presentation in front of him. I can hardly sit still, nervous energy buzzing throughout my body, wanting the night to progress and wanting to slow it down to savor every moment. What happens when my meal is over and he still has a kitchen to run? Will he close the kitchen? What time will it be when I finally get to see him?
Dancing around our attraction has heightened the need. The focus and intensity he shows in the kitchen while he is working is admirable. Watching so many foodie channels, I expected the kitchen to be a bit… Louder. More chaotic. Frantic. But it is none of those things. Each cook works their station. The communication is rushed, but it’s unlike what I’ve seen on TV. It feels as if I’m a judge about to offer my critique on one of those cooking shows. The ones where they watch as their food is prepared in front of them.
A video! The idea pops in my head with the thought of the cooking show. Incorporating a video on the site and on IG would definitely boost traffic. Especially with the rich, sexy, elusive chef as the star. I pick up my phone, placing it on video mode, then hit record. Close ups are a must, but will he have an objection to me leaving the empty prep table area?
I take a few steps closer to where he is working, still keeping a distance, not wanting to be in anyone’s way. Zooming in, I get a close-up of his face as he is working, then pan down to the plate in progress and slowly zoom out again.
Lorenzo looks up smiling, cocking an eyebrow sexily. He picks up the plate, coming towards me. I hit the stop button and return to the stool.
“Pictures or video?” His voice teases as he places my meal down.
“Video,” I answer, nervously wondering if he will allow me to use the little footage I was able to record. “Do you mind?”
“Normally, I would have said no, but for you, yes. Yes, you may use the video.” He bends down, leaning on the table for a quick kiss, then pulls away slightly. “I can’t wait for this evening.”
The desire in his eyes has me clenching in anticipation. I pull the corner of my lower lip into my mouth, getting lost in his caramel eyes.
“Braised short ribs with parmesan polenta for the beautiful, sexy lady. Hope you enjoy,” he says before standing up.
“Thank you.” Should I take my first bite while he is watching?
I pick up the fork and knife to cut into the tender, falling-off-the-bone piece of meat. I arrange a small piece of beef and some polenta on the fork before bringing it up to my mouth. This has to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. The tender meat, the creamy, flavorful polenta all merge to create a perfect bite. A nod and a small smirk is all I’ll give him. He knows he’s a master in the kitchen. No reason to inflate his head, the one on his shoulders, any more than it already is.
“Well?” His brows pull in.
“I think you know.” I lick my lips, teasing him. “You’ll have to wait for my review just like all the others. When I post it on my blog.” I cock my head to the side, rubbing my neck.
He leans in again, “I’m sure I can get you to tell me before that.”
“Are you sure?” I lean closer to him, our breath mingling.
“Do you doubt?” His brows raise.
Shrugging my shoulders just slightly, I look away.
He places a hand casually on my upper thigh, which is bare thanks to the short sundress I’m wearing. That one touch has my heart racing as my breath hitches, and I find myself wondering what he will do next. As if he could read my mind, his fingers begin to curl in slightly, dragging oh-so-softly up my inner thigh. My gaze comes back to him, the busyness of the kitchen fades away. He slowly drags his hand up a few inches closer to my warm center. I squirm slightly spreading my legs, wanting his hand higher.
His hand swiftly moves up, grazing my panties, and just as quickly, it is gone. “To be continued later,” he says, his voice gravelly with want.
A breath I didn’t realize I was holding is released slowly as he walks away, stopping at a sink to quickly wash his hands. He turns around, giving me a wink. Him and those damn winks. My skin is tingling everywhere he touched. He falls seamlessly into the movement of the kitchen, back at the head of the kitchen inspecting the plates before they leave for the dining room.
With the fork still in hand, I load up another bite, figuring I’ll need sustenance to keep up with him.
Back in the room,I’m waiting for a message or call to come. I left the kitchen after only a couple of bites of the dessert. It was truly delicious, but the nerves that had taken up residence in my stomach overruled my tastebuds. A chaste kiss and a quick “good-bye until later” was all I got before I decided to come back to my room.
Would he be texting or knocking? I close my eyes, letting my mind wander back to his hand exploring where it probably shouldn’t in a kitchen full of employees. How can a few second memory cause such desperate want? My core is clenching in anticipation, ready for a release.
A knock on the door pulls me from the memory. Jumping up, I go to the door, opening it to Lorenzo freshly showered, in a snug T-shirt and jeans.
“I’m ready to find out what you thought of my short ribs.” His eyes are sparkling with mischief.
I lean on the open door, casually propping it open.
“How will you make me divulge?” I run my fingers along my collarbone.
He moves in closer, bending slightly and whispering in my ear, “I’m more of a man of action than words. I’ll have to show you.”
His nose grazes the curve of my ear, his breath warm on my neck sends shivers down the side of my body. He pulls back, cupping my face with his hands and bringing my gaze to his.
“Can I show you?” Desire is burning in his eyes.
“Please.” My breath is shallow.
His lips crash down on mine greedily as he guides me into the room, letting the door close. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. I can feel his hardness pressed against me.
He slows down, bringing his hands up to my face, peppering my lips with soft kisses. He places his forehead to mine, his breath slowing down.
“Are you sure you want this?” Lorenzo asks, his voice soft and low.
I nod my head, whispering, “Yes.”
His hands slide down my back, over the curve of my ass, and I feel his fingers through the soft fabric of the sundress. His fingers slide back and forth softly on my legs near the hem of my dress. Slowly his hands slide up with the dress. I bring my arms up, as he pulls it over my head.
He tosses it to the side, pulling his T-shirt over his head. His gaze travels up and down my body with lust-filled eyes.
My eyes glide down his bare chest. How is this man a chef? He resembles every girls’ bad-boy fantasy come to life. His chest and arm covered in tattoos. I didn’t realize the extent of tattoos until now. I let my hand graze the letters on his left pec that spell the name of his first restaurant. Is it cocky or cute to have the name of his restaurant branded on his body? Right now, I don’t care.
He closes the distance between us, kissing me slower this time. More controlled than the frenzied need just a second ago. His hands wrap around my back, undoing the bra hook. The strapless bra falls away, leaving no fabric to block the feel of him. I push myself into him, the skin-on-skin contact has my body tingling with want. I take a step back, pulling him with me towards the bed, but he pulls away.
“Slide your panties down.” He takes another step back watching me through hooded eyes.
I lazily place my hand on my breast letting it slide slowly down my stomach before hooking my fingers to the sides sliding them down my legs stepping out of them.
“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he commands, his voice deep and husky.
I obey, my pulse quickening. He steps closer, separating my legs and lowering himself to his knees. He places a single kiss to my lips, then sucks and kisses lower down my neck. He takes a breast in one hand, squeezing it before taking the other in his mouth. The feeling is so intense. He sucks and nips at my nipple before kissing further down, leaving a trail of energy. His lips continue moving toward my stomach. He’s avoiding the area where I want him the most, his tongue dancing just around my clit and the inside of my thigh.
“I need you now,” I blurt out.
“Patience.” He looks to me; his eyes gleam with mischief.
His hand brushes softly against my sex as he brings it up, squeezing my breast, licking my pebbled nipple then moving to the other one. He kisses around my nipple, licking and blowing. The warmth of his tongue and coolness of his breath make them extremely sensitive. He takes my hardened peak in his mouth and sucks firmly. Wetness pools between my legs.
He rubs his fingers between my legs, then brings them up to his mouth, sucking them. He brushes his tongue over my lips, and I open greedily, tasting myself.
“Delicious,” he rasps out.
He places his hands on each of my knees spreading me wider, kissing and licking his way down until I feel his tongue glide over my already swollen clit. A loud moan escapes immediately. I buck myself against his face, chasing the orgasm that has been building. Two fingers slide in as he continues the sensuous assault on my clit. I fall back onto the bed, riding his fingers. He pulls them out before pushing three back in, and a couple of seconds later I can feel my climax coming.
My breath is hard and fast, chest heaving with the ecstasy that has taken over. Lorenzo quickly stands, shedding his jeans and pulling out a condom.
“I’m not done with you yet.” His lust filled eyes scan my naked body as he kneels on the bed.
I sit up, grabbing the condom from his hands and stopping his approach. I palm his large cock. I’m in awe of the man in front of me. I lick the drops of precum off, his guttural moan exciting me. I tear the package open, sliding out the condom, slowly sheathing him.
“Lay down.” He has had his fun, and now it’s time for me to take control.
“Your wish is my command.” Lorenzo complies, although painstakingly slowly, while kissing and stroking my body.
He may be trying to play coy, but the hunger in his eyes is unmistakable. He tucks his left arm under his head, narrowing his eyes. I straddle him, lifting myself to slide him in. I take my time, adjusting to the feeling. It has been too long since I’ve been with anyone.
I roll my hips slightly, enjoying the delicious fullness. Lorenzo’s eyes raking my body emboldens me, a feeling of power surging. Rocking my hips, I savor the soft groans escaping his lips.
He pushes his hips up causing more friction, and too soon the rise to euphoria begins. He licks his thumb bringing it down, rubbing my clit while I speed up, riding him faster. A few seconds of this bliss and we both let go, enjoying our release.
I fall forward, chest to chest; our racing hearts are pounding against each other. Rolling to the side, I place my head on his chest, tucking myself into his side, and allow my hand to lazily run up and down his bare stomach. Long, deep breaths pass before either of us utter a word.
“You’re beautiful.” Lorenzo brushes his thumb across my lips softly, “I wanted to kiss these lips since I caught you taking pictures.”
“Did you.” A warmth travels through my body.
“I did. I knew the idea of influencers was a good idea, but I’ve had my fill of the groupie influencer types.” He begins rambling. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve invited some to my restaurants for different occasions, but now that I’m pretty established, I don’t need to anymore. They post about my places without me having to offer them anything.”
“Cocky much?” I call him out, giggling and lifting my head to look at him.
“Yeah, I guess so.” His lips spread, and he rolls his eyes. “But you know what I mean. You … you are different than them. You are doing it for the places, not for yourself.”
“Don’t make me out to be more altruistic than I really am. I want to give the places I visit their time to shine, all while enjoying the perks of free stays and meals. And I also want my blog to do well.”
“And you should. But you aren’t competing with the places you showcase. You truly showcase the place. That is different than the others, who place themselves front and center. The location is secondary.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure how I should respond. He has noticed what I’ve tried to do. How I try to do business. He has paid attention and understands my mission without my having to explain it.