Page 22 of Indulging Temptation (Tempting the Heart #1)

Enraged at how he’s not only talking to me, but for how he’s disrespecting Tino, I decide to end this right fucking now.

“Fuck this.” I toss the cloth napkin on my lap onto the table as I go to scoot my chair back so I can leave when a squeal slips past my lips, as an intense vibration warps through my center.

Mortified, I place both hands over my mouth.

But it’s too late. The couple sitting at the table near us is looking at me, curious as to what had me squealing like that.

Owen shoots me a cold stare. “Sit the fuck down.” He brings the remote up to the table, caressing the button with his thumb. “You don’t want me to make this go full power and embarrass you anymore than I already have, would you?”

My eyes narrow at him. I knew he was an asshole, but the way he’s acting is next level.

I sit down, not to appease him, but because he’s toying with me.

He now has the next level of vibration on, and I already know the game he’s playing.

He will keep going until I do as he says.

Besides, Cielo + Cibo is Santino’s baby, I don’t want to be the cause of any negative attention or rumors brought to the restaurant that I’d then have to clean up.

“Good…”

I grab hold of the butter knife resting in front of me. Wishing it were sharper, I wave it towards him, to stop him from finishing his sentence. “Don’t you fucking dare ‘good girl’ me. You’re lucky I don’t stab you with this.”

“A butter knife? Ooh, I’m shaking.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Thankfully, he stops the vibration. Usually, I love using this thing, but not when the power dynamic is altered like this. Not at all.

“Can’t argue with you there. But you know what you are?”

I lower the knife. “Oh, this should be good. What am I?”

“A fucking liar.”

“Excuse me?” I look at him absolutely mystified as to what I could’ve lied to him about that would warrant him acting like such a fucking asshole to me right now.

“You never told me you knew the chef here.”

Unbelievable . I scoff. “First off, he’s the owner.

” I feel like I need to defend Tino and make that distinction.

“And second, how am I a liar? What, because I didn’t tell you that I know Tino?

It’s not like you volunteered the information as to why you really wanted to eat here tonight either.

Since it was to gloat and be an asshole for winning that bid. ”

Both his hands lift in phony defeat. “Oops. Must’ve slipped my mind when I was busy adding another thing he wants but can’t have on to my roster.”

My head is spinning. There is obvious bad blood between them. What sparked it, I have no idea. Tino isn’t exactly a stranger to scuffles with others. But Owen? Of all fucking people. Just my luck.

Trying to put my professional hat on and not act on emotion, I take a deep breath before navigating this landmine I’ve found myself trapped in.

“Did you purposely out bid him?”

“Yep,” he says, without hesitation or remorse.

“Why…” Is all I’m able to mutter when I’m interrupted by the server pouring water into our glasses. Owen asks for the most expensive bottle of wine they have, and once we’re alone again, he picks up where we left off.

“I’ll get to that in a minute. I apologize for being so on edge. I mean, after all, you did me a favor.”

“Cut the shit, I’ve had a long day, just get to it already.”

“I’m getting there. Calm down.”

“I am calm,” I say through gritted teeth.

“You don’t look calm, you look…nervous.”

“I’m not, so spit it out, Owen.”

“I always knew we’d never amount to anything, sadly. I knew that even when we were in high school, and you didn’t know I existed.”

My blood runs cold. High school? What the fuck is he talking about?

“Owen, what…”

He cuts me off. “Do you know that you touch yourself in your sleep?”

I damn near choke on my saliva.

As if on cue, the server comes back with the wine, and there’s no way he doesn’t notice the fact that my cheeks make the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that he is opening look pale in comparison.

Picking up on the tension, he quickly pours our glasses, opting to have neither one of us do a first sip taste, and leaves our table as quickly as he can.

“I thought it was hot at first. That was until I had to lay there and hear you moan his fucking name, as you were sleeping and touching yourself. Then it lost all its appeal.”

I did what?

“Stop,” I plead, but he doesn’t.

“No. You see, my father always told me that when something or someone tries to humiliate you, you do it right back.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? That’s not his fault.”

It’s my fault, for allowing Tino to hold such a space in my heart and mind. Breaking my own damn rules for someone who denied me. What a damn mess I’ve created.

“Yes, it is.” His fist tightens around the stem of the wine glass. “I don’t know what the fuck you see in him. He’s a fucking tool. Big whoop he knows his way around a kitchen. Anyone can cook. How fucking difficult can it be? I mean, he does it. So, I guess I answered my own question.”

“Yeah, well, not many can cook like Tino.” The continuous urge I have to defend Tino breaks through my embarrassment and horror at this situation.

“After tonight’s dinner, I’ll be the judge of that. I just wonder if he can cook as good as he can punch.” Owen rubs his cheek.

I tilt my head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Wow, you really are clueless, aren’t you? He fucking socked me in the face, same way he did Chef DeStefano – who, by the way, is an excellent cook. I’ve had the pleasure of dining at both his restaurants on multiple occasions, but I digress.”

“When did he punch you?”

“Years ago, at the park across from the high school, when he overheard me saying I wanted to ask you to prom. Jokes on him though, because now I win.” The level of bitterness coming from him is almost scaring me at this point.

“You can’t blame me for finding all of this a good enough reason to purposely get myself in a bidding war with him.

That now, thanks to you sparking the idea in my head, I am able to put an end to our beef.

And what better way to end the business victory and our situationship than to eat at his restaurant with you. ”

Owen doesn’t stop there. He continues his speech that seems rehearsed at this point. I even faintly hear him call me something under his breath as the server awkwardly brings over a basket of fresh focaccia, but I can’t focus on any of it.

My attention, as well as my senses become consumed by the mixture of vanilla, jasmine, and a hint of coconut wafting my way from the freshly lit candle in front of me. A custom candle from Judith Lynne’s.

As I breathe in the familiar scent; I immediately recognize the aroma to be a damn near exact replica of my go-to perfume. The perfume I’ve worn for years all because Tino commented one day how good I smelled, and I couldn’t find it in my heart not to wear it every day since.

Owen continues yapping as my gaze remains on the amber glass.

The label centered on the jar reads mi cielo, with a singular hibiscus flower in a pilon sketched beneath it.

My heart swells in my chest as I stare at it.

I’m in disbelief that I didn’t put two and two together when I saw it the first time as I walked into Cielo + Cibo.

Long before the design in front of me was the restaurant’s logo, it was a silly scribble that I drew years ago… for Tino.