Page 116 of Delicious (Delicious #1)
Chapter Five
Niccolò
I had probably lost my mind agreeing to a date with a younger man who had roasted my taste buds off my tongue like marshmallows over a campfire, but my curiosity had gotten the better of me. There was something about Adler that appealed to me, even if I didn’t understand my reaction to him.
His upscale house and luxurious kitchen that made me feel right at home surprised me. “I’m impressed.”
He grinned at me as he turned on his restaurant-grade oven to preheat. “Admit it. You were expecting me to have a shitty little studio apartment, not a fancy house with a kitchen worthy of your talents.”
I gestured around the space. “In my defense, most twenty-four-year-olds don’t live like this unless they’re staying with their parents.”
“Fair. I never expected to afford this kind of place on my own, but once the show took off and we started diversifying our offerings through branded hot sauces, crowdfunding, and paid advertising, I’ve done pretty well for myself.”
“I respect the hustle. That’s not easy.”
He washed his hands before taking out a pan and lining it with aluminum foil. “Thankfully, Roland has been a tremendous help. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. I couldn’t do it without him. He handles all the business side of things so I can focus on the desserts and being the face of the brand. We have a great system.”
“It’s good you have support. That’d be quite an undertaking alone.”
He snorted. “I never would have made it even half as far without his intelligence keeping me on the right path.” He opened the fridge, pulling out ingredients. “Any objection to pancetta-wrapped pesto pork tenderloin paired with truffle parmesan polenta with sage? Normally, I do risotto with it, but I’m not brave enough to try that in front of you.”
“That sounds great, actually.”
He lit up at the simple praise. It brought a boyish youthfulness to his face that made him look almost angelic. It was a joke when he was so devilish.
I watched as he placed the pancetta in the pan. My hands itched to get involved since being a passive observer in a kitchen was something I couldn’t stand. “For what it’s worth, I’m not nearly as harsh in real life as I am on TV.”
“You sure about that?” Adler asked with a grin as he prepared the pork tenderloin. “That tongue of yours is pretty sharp, sir.”
“I thought you liked that.”
“Oh, I definitely do. That wasn’t a complaint.” He used a mallet on the tenderloin, stopping to laugh. “Sorry, I just realized you’re watching me beat my meat.”
I joined him in snickering. “Indeed.”
“Guess I should put on a show.” He resumed pounding the meat to the right thickness with more vigor than was necessary.
“Besides, you act like you weren’t sending zingers back at me.”
“Because that’s the fun part.” He began placing the tenderloin in the center of the pancetta, perpendicular to the strips. “Making you flushed and sweaty was the other good thing.”
“It’s a shame. I was doing so well until that last one.”
“I assumed you’d be begging for mercy after the second dessert, so you did well.”
The notion was ridiculous. “I beg for nothing.”
He grinned at me. “Yeah, you strike me as the ‘I don’t ask, I take what I want’ type.”
“I didn’t get this far in my career by being passive. I’m a man who knows what he wants, so I’m not wasting time denying myself.”
“And how does one become something you want to take? Hypothetically speaking, of course.” His cheeky grin was irresistible.
“Be a temptation I can’t resist.” I watched as he seasoned the pork, then spread pesto over it, layering it with cheese and spinach. He moved with the confidence of a true chef, which further intrigued me.
“I don’t suppose you have a weakness for mouthy smart-asses who like to challenge your authority for the sheer fun of having you hold them down and have your way with them?”
His boldness astounded me. “You aren’t being even a little subtle.”
“Well, I recently heard it’s better to take what you want than beg, so I’m trying it.” His unrepentant grin made me want to do everything he was tempting me with, but I didn’t like being played. Then again, was he playing me when I had reacted to him while blindfolded?
I watched as he closed the tenderloin, then wrapped the pancetta around it. He tied it with kitchen string with a dexterity that suggested this was a meal he made all the time. He secured the ends with toothpicks and carried the tray over to the large stove to transfer the meat to a skillet. “Does this meet with your approval?”
“Looks great so far.”
“I’ll try not to fuck it up,” he replied with a laugh, turning on the burner to sear the meat on all sides. “While this is resting, I’ll do the polenta.”
I rested my hip against the counter as I watched him tend to it. “Tell me about yourself.”
He glanced at me in surprise. “You really want to know?”
“My gut tells me you know every detail of my Wikipedia page, so I’m at a distinct disadvantage knowing about you.”
“You mean things like the fact you once got kicked out of a five-star Parisian restaurant for yelling, ‘This soufflé is softer than your brain,’ at the chef?”
“Hardly a punishment,” I said with a disdainful sniff. “Pierre Delamandre is everything that’s wrong with fine dining. His soufflé was an insult to French cuisine.”
“And I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he said, ‘Your food is like a carnival ride—bright, loud, and guaranteed to make you nauseous if you have any taste at all.’”
I rolled my eyes at the old insult. “As I told him, it’s impossible to taste joy when his head is shoved so far up his ass.” I waved away the thought. “If you’re inclined to get revenge on my behalf, send him some of your Satan’s scrotum snickerdoodles or something.”
Adler howled with laughter, bringing tears to his eyes that he had to wipe away. “Oh, it would be my honor. Because if you think my desserts are war crimes? That man’s entire career is proof that not all villains wear capes—some wear aprons and make salmon foam.”
My interest in Adler spiked a little higher. “Exactly, you get me. Now, tell me about you.”
“Roland and I are competitive as hell and tend to take things too far sometimes. A few years ago, he dared me to eat a ghost pepper while he was filming me. My reaction went viral on social media, which was a shock.”
“Why am I not surprised it was a dare that started it all?”
“Probably because it’s a well-known fact I’m wildly competitive.” Adler chuckled as he continued browning the meat on each side. “Of course, I followed that up by making a ghost pepper caramel cake for his birthday, which I filmed him eating when he didn’t know it was secretly spicy. That went viral as well. I mostly did it as pranks on my friends in the beginning, but somehow, I lucked into Roland’s cousin’s neighbor’s wife’s sister’s best friend’s hairdresser knowing Kieran Aiello through his stylist.”
I raised my eyebrows at the long list of names and seven degrees of separation from the famous Hollywood actor. “It’s amazing you can remember everyone who was involved.”
“It’s easy when it was the best thing that could have happened. Nemia played him the video, and he thought it was the funniest shit he had ever seen. He reached out and asked if he could be in an episode with me. Once I realized it wasn’t Roland pranking me, I almost died of shock.”
“I’m not surprised. Kieran’s one of the rare, nice guys in Hollywood. My staff loves when he comes to my restaurants. He’s great about taking pictures with them, signing stuff, and talking to them. He always remembers the servers’ names.”
“That tracks with my experience with him. He was so genuinely enthusiastic, and it was his idea to do the spicy progression of desserts instead of just a single one, so I went all out for his video, which exploded my popularity. After that, his famous friends started asking to come on the channel, then their friends, and it sort of spiraled into the phenomenon that it turned into. I still have a hard time believing it’s real sometimes.”
“You’ve made something incredible. I feel bad for judging you without knowing much,” I admitted, which was rare for me to acknowledge I was in the wrong. “I’ve been in Michelin-star restaurants that have desserts that aren’t even half as good as yours.”
“Wow, I wish you had said that on camera,” he laughed, turning off the burner. He transferred the tenderloin back to the baking pan before putting it in the oven to finish roasting and set a timer. With that done, he turned his full attention to me, a sensual gleam in his eyes.
And damned if that didn’t make my dick harden with interest.