Envy by Eve Marian

3

Natacha

Of course, Rossi had a gas stove with six burners. And not just one stove, there was a built-in oven in the cabinetry as well. Staring at the oven, I pressed the settings button and read the various functions the oven performed. Meat probe. What the hell was that? I shuddered at the thought.

Fortunately, the stove was similar to the one I’d practiced on at Luke’s house last night. We’d stayed up ‘til midnight chopping, dicing, mixing, and sauteing. I was by no means a top chef, but Luke said he was confident I wouldn’t poison anyone.

“Good morning, Ms. Benett.”

I turned my head and watched a medium-built, slender man wearing a full suit extend his hand toward me. A gold Rolex watch peeked from underneath his white shirt. “I’m Pete Sanders, Mr. Rossi’s Personal Assistant. How are you finding your work situation?”

Terrifying.

“Fine. It’s all great, thank you. Oh, and please call me Natacha.”

He smiled and gave me a swift nod. “All right. Well, you’ve come highly recommended by one of our staff, so let’s get straight to it, shall we?”

I wonder how much my father paid the employee to stick his neck out for me. It would have been a good sum if he’d given me a glowing recommendation without ever having tasted my food.

“Mr. Rossi has breakfast at seven-thirty sharp every morning and dinner at six. He often skips lunch or grabs something if he’s out. If he’s entertaining a guest, I will let you know as soon as I can. But I can’t guarantee you more than an hour’s notice.”

“I’ll make it work,” I said, having no idea how I would accomplish that. But I’d worry about it later.

“Good.” Looking around the room, he asked. “If there’s anything you need, you can find me in the office down the hall. First door to the left.”

He turned to leave but I touched his sleeve. “Pete. Um…” I looked around the kitchen, but I still couldn’t see it. “Can you tell me where the refrigerator is?”

He smiled. “Of course. I figured you would have opened every cabinet by now, making yourself at home.”

I laughed uncomfortably at his remark.

Is that what a cook would have done?

He opened a cabinet and a bright light flickered on. “Oh, it was enclosed in a cabinet. How clever,” I said, not thinking it clever at all, but annoying. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If there’s anything else…?” He waited, and for the first time, his eyes narrowed a bit.

“I’m good. I’ll catch you later.” I wiggled my fingers at him in a semblance of a wave. His eyes grew smaller. So, I smiled bigger.

With a firm nod, he turned and left.

Phew!

I blew out a breath and placed my hands on my hips, surveying the enormous room.

There were white cabinets spanning three of the four walls. They probably hid more appliances behind those doors. The eight-foot island had a second sink and a dishwasher.

Why would one need two sinks?

I opened the refrigerator and inventoried the items. Red meat, carrots, broccoli, and a multitude of sauces and dressings. All right, I could work with these.

Luke said I could find nearly any recipe online and he jotted down a few websites he recommended for their simplicity. I opened a browser on my phone and searched for one of my favorite dishes. Roast beef.

Luke said this would be one of the easiest recipes because I simply had to rub spices over the meat and cook it in the oven for the designated time. And voilà!

Pulling out some onions, celery, and carrots, I began chopping the vegetables.

I’d finished dicing a carrot when I felt as though someone was watching. I turned toward the kitchen’s entrance. But there was no one there.

There were several windows in the kitchen overlooking an expansive backyard, but I couldn’t see anything out of place.

Shaking my head, I reached for an onion and cut it in half. The potent smell stung my eyes. As I wiped a tear from my face, a figure appeared a few feet away from me.

“If you wash it first, it won’t make you cry so much.”

Startled, I dropped the knife.

“Mi scusi,” the woman said, holding up her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

As I waited for my heart to stop racing, I watched the older woman approach, not looking particularly sorry at all. Her white hair was cut short and cropped close at the back. She wore all black but the material was expensive, so it didn’t make her look drab. More like Chanel chic.

My eyes followed her as she walked in front of the island to face me. Her face held a smile, but her eyes assessed me from head to toe.

I squared my shoulders. “I don’t usually scare easily. Only when people sneak up on me.”

She smiled back, a bit more genuinely this time. “That’s good. I’m Angela Rossi. Giancarlo’s grandmother.”

“Very nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Natacha Benett. The new cook.”

“I know. I figured.”

Eyeing my bosom, she asked, “Did Giancarlo hire you himself?”

“No. I haven’t met him yet.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised. He usually hires the pretty ones himself.”

I wasn’t sure if this was a compliment, as I wasn’t exactly pretty. More pleasant, I’d say. So, I didn’t respond, waiting instead if she was going to add some sort of jab.

She pulled out a stool in front of the island and sat down. “So, what are you making?”

“Roast beef,” I said, taking hold of the knife again. I steadied my hand, wanting to look as professional as possible. Slowly, I cut across the onion. I waited for her to leave, but she didn’t. I made another cut, and juice squirted into my eye.

Damn.

I rubbed my eye with the back of my hand and continued to chop. By the time I was done, tears streamed down my cheeks.

“Holy shit, Nonna, what did you say to the new girl?” A young man wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt walked into the kitchen. He reached for an apple on the table. He had a shaved head and a smooth face and didn’t look a day older than twenty. I was sure I’d never met him before, but there was something about his face… something familiar.

“Nothing, Nicky. She didn’t listen to me, and now she’s a mess.”

I dropped the knife and washed my hands before patting some water on my cheeks to clean up my face.

Nicky walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed himself a bottle of green juice. “Is the boss down yet? I was told to be early because he wanted to meet with the mayor first thing.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Angela said, turning her body away from me. She lowered her voice. “Giancarlo was shot last night. He’s still in bed.”

Shot?! No one had told me that. I wondered why Pete hadn’t mentioned it to me.

“Is he all right?” asked Nicky.

“Yes. The bullet only grazed his side. He’ll be fine. But he’ll need a few days to recover.”

“Nicky!” A deep voice bellowed from the front of the house, and all three of us jumped. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Seems to me like he’s done recovering. See you later, Nonna. Bye, new girl.”

I raised my hand in salute, having not even spoken a word to him.

“Who was that?” I asked Angela.

“That’s Nicky, Giancarlo’s driver. He started working for us about a month ago. He’s a good kid.”

Hearing the front door click, I realized Giancarlo had left without his breakfast.

“Wait!” I called out and grabbed the mug of coffee. But when I reached the hallway, no one was there.

“Don’t worry about it. He’ll grab something when he meets with the mayor.”

I dropped my left hand on my hip while the right still held the coffee cup. I squeezed the handle, annoyed that I hadn’t been able to perform my job properly this morning. A whiff of the strong brew reached my nose and I looked over at Angela. I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip.

She laughed out loud and shook her finger at me. “I’m going to like you,” she said. Then she walked past me toward the front door. “I’ll be staying with Giancarlo until he feels better. So, I’ll see you later, bella.”

I saluted her with my mug and settled back into the kitchen to prepare for the evening’s meal.

Pulling the tenderloin from the fridge, I placed it gently on the counter. Although I loved roast beef, I’d never seen it raw like this. It looked kind of gross. I threw the onions into a roasting pan and dropped the meat on top.

Spices. Where would I find them? I decided not to ask Pete about it, in case he thought me completely useless. So, I opened the first cabinet on the left and continued across the kitchen. There were pull-out drawers with pots and pans inside, drawers that hid recycling, waste, and trash bins, and even a cabinet with a full bar behind it, but no pantry.

Finally, when I was nearly on the other side of the kitchen, I opened a large cabinet, assuming some more appliances were stored there, but what I saw surprised me even more. It wasn’t a cabinet at all. It was a door. Into another room.

I walked through the doorway and found myself inside another kitchen. There were more white cabinets in here and a countertop, but what really shocked me was the shiny new appliances. There was another refrigerator, stove, and dishwasher inside this room as well. It was another kitchen, next to the kitchen!

I circled the room and shook my head. I’d expected a walk-in pantry, sure. But another kitchen? No, this was another level. At least to me.

I started in on these cabinets as well.

Who knows what I’ll find? Maybe a white rabbit next.

After locating the spices, I rubbed them all over the meat as Luke had instructed. I stood in front of my roast and wiped my brow in satisfaction. I’d also watched three videos to prepare the roast, and although I had skipped some parts, it looked just like the ones I’d seen.

I set the oven to 350 degrees and slid the roasting pan inside.

Dusting off my hands, I turned to find Pete standing at the kitchen entrance.

“Giancarlo called. Vito will be joining him for dinner.”

“Who’s Vito?” I asked, trying to keep all the new names straight.

“He’s Giancarlo’s right-hand man. He often stays for dinner.”

I nodded. “No problem. The roast will be enough for two.”

*

Crap.

This roast was barely enough for one. It had shriveled down to the size of a large hamburger. I sawed the first piece.

That looks dry. Maybe the second piece will be better.

It was a little better, but there was hardly any juice. I researched how to make gravy from a roast, hoping this would save the meal.

Pete walked into the kitchen. “Is dinner ready, Natacha? Giancarlo and Vito are seated at the dining table.”

His eyebrows creased together when he saw my roast. “Is that it?”

“No. Not quite. Just making the gravy,” I said, mixing some flour and milk into the roasting pan. I whipped the liquid with a whisk but couldn’t quite get the lumps out.

“Just pour it on and get it out there. They have to leave in thirty minutes.”

“Fine.” I huffed and wiped my hands over my black pants.

I plated two pieces of meat onto two white plates and poured gravy on top. Three large clumps fell to the side. I grabbed a spoonful of carrots and dropped them onto the clump.

“Go, go,” Pete said, waving me toward the dining room.

It felt like some sort of race, and everyone else had already sprinted away.

I walked into the dining room, nearly out of breath.

My gaze landed on the two men. One sat at the head of the large dining room table and another to the right of him. I could see the profile of the man on the right. He looked to be around my age, twenty-five years old. He had short, straight, black hair and was of stockier build than the man sitting next to him.

I couldn’t see Giancarlo’s face, but he had dark hair, a bit of a wave where it hit his white collar in the back. I glimpsed his right hand. There was a tattoo on it. I couldn’t decipher what it was, but the blue ink was circular in design.

He also wore several rings on both hands.

I slowly lowered the plates in front of the men.

Vito cleared his throat and covered his mouth with his fist. The edges crept up into a semblance of a smile.

“What’s this?” asked Giancarlo. His deep voice was gravelly, as though he’d just woken up even though it was already dark outside.

I swallowed. “It’s roast beef.”

“If you say so,” mumbled Vito and coughed. He was definitely hiding a laugh.

I walked out of the room and dropped my head into my hands. That was a disaster. I texted Luke.

Me: I think the roast beef didn’t come out right

Luke: Why?

Me: Because it looked like an old shoe when I cut into it.

Luke: What did the temperature read when you probed it?

Me: Probed it? What is that?”

Luke: You used a meat thermometer while cooking the roast, right?”

Shit. That’s what a meat probe was?

Me: No. I must have skipped that part of the video. It’s all right. I’ll get it right next time.

Luke: Send me a pic of what’s inside his fridge. I’ll come up with some menus for the week for you.

Me: You’re a lifesaver, thank you!!

“Natacha,” Pete sighed from the kitchen entrance. His face was pale and he loosened his tie.

“Yes?”

“Um… the roast… it…”

I smiled sheepishly. “I know. I’ll do better next time. The meat—”

He shook his head. “There won’t be a next time.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry. But Giancarlo just fired you.”

“He what?!”

My heart slammed against my chest. Humiliation burned my cheeks. I’d never been fired in my entire life. The heat creeping up my neck turned from shame to anger.

If he was firing me, he could have the decency to do so to my face. I stormed out of the kitchen, past a wide-eyed Pete, and into the dining room.

The men stood from the table, ready to leave, but I wouldn’t let that happen. Not only because he shouldn’t have fired me by proxy, but because I couldn’t let him do so. I hadn’t even started searching his home for clues leading to the night of Chase’s...

“Excuse me, Mr. Rossi,” I said. “I’d like to speak with you.”

Giancarlo turned around sharply, and his hand snapped to grab onto his side.

The quick movement distracted me. Is that where they shot him? Should he be twisting his body like that if it was?

He had a strong jaw covered in stubble, but I could visibly see his chiseled cheekbones and a scar underneath his left eyebrow. His eyes were black but they blazed fire at me.

“Well?” he said. His deep voice vibrated throughout the room.

The man certainly had an intimidating presence.

“Well, you can’t fire me,” I said and swallowed uncomfortably. My throat felt tight.

“You can’t cook. So, I can fire you. I should also fire the person who recommended you.” He eyed me up and down. “Though maybe he had ulterior motives.”

He turned to leave.

“I wasn’t used to that cut of meat. I hadn’t purchased it. First thing in the morning, I will go to the grocery store myself and pick out my items. I can’t cook with the wrong ingredients, as I’m sure you can’t do your job without the right tools.”

He didn’t move, so I continued. “Tomorrow’s meal will be better.” I cleared my throat. “It will be delicious.”

Vito stared at his boss, a smirk playing on his mouth. “I say you give her another chance.”

“I know why you’re saying that, Vito. But I need a cook, not eye candy.”

Eye candy!

“I’m just asking for one more meal. If you don’t like it, you can fire me after that. Hell, I’ll even quit.”

“Pete,” Giancarlo called, looking over my head.

His assistant popped his head into the room. “Yes, Mr. Rossi.”

“Who else do we have lined up for the cook position?”

“Um… Well…”

Giancarlo rubbed his face and looked up at the ceiling. “Start looking. I want at least two new candidates for tomorrow.”

My heart sank. “Mr. Rossi—” I began.

He pointed a finger at me. “You have one more chance. Then I go with someone else. Don’t fuck it up.”

I’d never been more pleased to hear someone swear at me.

“I won’t. I promise.”

I felt his eyes on me as I left the room. “The name’s Natacha, right?” his deep voice reached me before I could leave. I imagined that voice giving orders and brokering no argument.

“Yes,” I said, stopping to face him. Feeling my heart lift at the opportunity for a second chance, I relaxed my shoulders. “May I call you Giancarlo?”

He stared at me; his gaze never wavered.

“No.”

Then he turned and walked out of the room.