She didn’t even have to think. Dani positioned her legs on either side of him. “I want you inside me.”
He thrust against her in answer. “I think I can handle that.”
Toni whipped his belt to the floor; at the same time Dani tore at his pant buttons. She ripped his pants down and she came out of her skin at the sight of him hard and throbbing in boxer briefs.
“Touch me,” he commanded low.
She cupped him, but it wasn’t enough. She reached inside the waistband and grasped him firmly, feeling how warm and ready he was to give her what she was almost begging for.
His head rolled back as she slowly stroked. “That’s good,” he breathed, his body a pillar of lean rigid muscle. Before he was too far gone, Toni gently cradled her face and pulled her up to meet his body. He nudged her knees apart and gazed down at her with heavy-lidded blue eyes. His fingertips ran down her slick folds, rubbing and sliding over her, making her moan and quiver.
“You are so beautiful. So sexy,” he breathed. Dani shuddered, her body ready for release.
“Now, Toni,” she panted. “Please.”
Toni reached past her and pulled a gold-foiled condom from atop the nightstand, quickly rolling the latex in place. Then all thoughts vanished when he palmed her thigh and slid deep inside her in one swift motion, thick, heavy and hard. Dani clawed at his shoulders as he pulled back slowly and drove home again, and again and again. She moaned as he continuously filled her, overwhelmed by his size and strength, but eager to take everything he was giving.
Dani undulated under him, coaxing rough grunts from him, nipping at his mouth with each thrust. Tremors wracked her, her legs falling open farther as he caged her with his body and slid in deeper. Dani felt her muscles clench around him and her heart started pounding out of her chest. She thrust up and held on to him as she came, vaguely aware of his lips on hers, and the sound of his rough cries against her mouth.
New York
One year later
“Service!” Dani screamed from behind the chef’s counter where she was meticulously preparing Andre’s special plate—veal shank with saffron infused risotto. The waitstaff within earshot paused at her shrill voice, then quickened their pace to grab the two entrées sitting idle under the heat lamp. She understood the confusion; technically she was “off,” allowing Michele, her sous-chef, a crucial step in his training—running a Friday night dinner service.
“Feel the rhythm of the kitchen, Michele. You’re behind, which makes them—” she pointed to the servers “—behind. Step it up.” The young man gave Dani a solemn nod and a “yes, Chef,” then barked his own orders.
Chef Andre Pierre may be the owner and famous face attached to the restaurant, but Dani had built the kitchen of Via L’Italy into a two-star Michelin rated powerhouse of culinary masterpieces, and wasn’t going to stop until she got a third star.
Of course, if she and Andre landed the TV show they pitched to the Food Network, she’d no longer be worrying about that star. The world would see her cooking beside Andre, instead of behind him. Ghost chef... Dani could barely stand the term. Andre was the great and powerful Oz of the culinary world, while she was the little guy behind the curtain making it all happen.
She had tried to leave and pursue her own restaurant once, but Andre increased her salary and made it worth her while to stay. When they got their first Michelin star, she got paid even more. On paper, she was successful. In real life, she felt like she was achieving none of her goals.
Dani no longer wanted to be a ghost chef in Andre’s kitchen, or in his bed. They’d become more public with their relationship, meaning some of the staff knew, but she still got the feeling Andre was fighting boyfriend status. Her schedule was more grueling than his and they never saw each other much outside of the restaurant. But they made sense together. Slowly but surely, Dani knew that Andre would one day see that they made a good team.
“Is that for Andre?” Michele said, his voice always turning a bit acid when he mentioned Andre’s name.
“Yes, I’m going to the office to cheer him up. He’s been sulking since he got back from the network. I’m nervous he got bad news.”
Dani slipped off her apron and ventured toward the dining room, skirting whizzing servers and bussers. All greeted her with a respectful “Chef.” Andre’s back office was empty. She passed by the storage alcove where the coats were lined and found a few had fallen from the rack. A muffled sound came from the closed storage door.
She moved forward, her hand on the knob when an audible moan was heard. He heart hammered, afraid to see what she knew was coming. Quietly she turned the knob. Andre was inside with Bette, their hostess. His back was to the door, pumping hard as she lay on the cluttered desk with her dress raised and her legs spread.
“You’re going to be a star, baby girl,” Andre gritted out in between thrusts.
The young hostess’s eyes were closed, and then they fluttered open and found Dani. The girl yelled in horror, which didn’t stop Andre’s furious thrusts until she hit at him and pushed away.
He was breathing heavily when he snapped his head around to gaze at Dani. The hostess shoved her dress down and scurried past Dani into the hallway. Andre’s shoulders slumped and he zipped up his pants. But what she saw in his eyes was not an apology. It was resignation. “I’m sorry you saw that. But what did you expect?”
Dani’s eyes narrowed. “I expected loyalty.”
“We never see each other. I can’t even remember when we kissed last.”
“We kissed this morning in bed.”
“That goodbye kiss you gave me at 4 a.m. when you went to the fish market?”
Dani took in a deep breath. “Your customers are loving the fish.”
“All you care about is the kitchen. Anywhere we go, anything we do, you end up at the kitchen.”
“This is a 24/7 job as you well know. And it’s not my kitchen, Andre, it’s your kitchen. I am doing this for us!”
“No, you’re not. Your focus, your drive...it’s for you, Dani. You have no insecurities in the kitchen.”
Insecurities? Dani’s hands perched on her full hips. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means all you think about is the kitchen. It’s where you have control.”
Dani rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to listen to psychobabble from a cheater and a liar. What she did need was to find out what happened at the network.
“And what about the show, Andre? Does that get thrown away along with our relationship too?”
“They want to do it—” he paused “—but they want someone else to cohost. Someone with a millennial appeal.” He had the decency to look apologetic.
“I’m thirty-three, Andre. I am a millennial.”
“They want someone...like...a model or something.”
“Ohhh, now I get it. I’m too fat to be on your show.”
He slowly shook his head. “It’s not my decision, Dani.”
She cut him off. “And who is going to cook for you? The model that... Wait a minute, is Bette going to be on the show?” If anyone wanted to be a star, it was that woman that ran out of the room with her skirt up.
Andre’s eyes hit the floor in answer.
“How long have you been screwing her?”
“Does