Chapter 3

For the next week, Alessandra found an excuse to visit Bam Bar nearly every day. Either she needed an afternoon pick-me-up when her editing work became tedious, or her regular breakfast cafe was overcrowded. Or her mind would simply drift to the sugary taste of strawberry and whipped cream on her tongue, and she’d be completely unable to resist the temptation.

The latter was the case on Friday afternoon after she’d finished editing a wedding video that was due that evening. Telling herself that she deserved a reward for completing the project, she grabbed her purse and headed towards Bam Bar.

She’d been retracing the same route for days, and muscle memory took over as she gazed at tiny souvenir shops, art galleries, and restaurants along the way. About a block from Bam Bar, Alessandra noticed the enticing aroma of tomatoes and cheese coming from a tiny corner shop to her left. She’d overlooked it for days, so intent on getting her next granita, but today the scent overwhelmed her and she stepped inside to investigate.

It was an Italian fast food shop serving slices of pizza and trays upon trays of steaming, golden-brown fried balls. They almost looked like mozzarella sticks, except they were round rather than long.

Noting Alessandra’s eyes fixed on the snack, the shop owner pointed to a tray and asked, “Arancini?”

“Si,” she nodded, holding up three fingers. The shop owner placed three of the balls into a small waxy bag and handed it to her. Stepping back out into the sunshine and settling down onto a bench, she picked up one of the balls between her fingers and blew on it to cool it off. Then she took a small bite and gasped. It was a fried ball of rice mixed with cheese, tomato sauce and eggplant. The cheese was thick and gooey and the sauce sweet and salty at once. It was heaven in a ball.

After finishing off the decadent snack, she continued along her way to Bam Bar. She was in an exceedingly good mood today—not only because of the delicious Italian food, but because that evening she was meeting Bella for dinner and tiramisu at Antico Ristorante. It had been almost a week since she’d had more than a fleeting interaction with anyone, and she was looking forward to chatting and laughing with Bella.

As she scooped the last few spoonfuls of granita out of her glass, her cell phone vibrated on the bistro table beside her. It was a text from Bella: Bad news: Antico Ristorante is closed today. Good news: I know another AMAZING spot near your apartment. See you at 8!


Her doorbell rang at exactly 8 o’clock, and she opened it to find Bella in a figure hugging baby blue dress that outlined her exaggerated curves flatteringly. She was clutching a bottle of red wine, which she placed on the kitchen table before giving Alessandra an enthusiastic hug.

“Hi!” Bella gushed excitedly. “I brought wine! Should we have an aperitivo before we go?”

Alessandra agreed, grabbing two wine glasses from her cabinet. She moved over to the pantry to retrieve a bag of potato chips, then paused, deliberating. She’d already eaten a ton today, including her afternoon snack of arancini and a granita. But she knew that “aperitivo” in Italy meant a drink with a snack, and she didn’t want to be a bad host. So she poured a heaping bowl of chips into a bowl, then sat down at the table across from Bella.

As Bella opened the bottle of wine, she said, “I’m so sorry—I should have checked online to see if Antico Ristorante would be open today.”

“Don’t worry about it!” Alessandra reassured her. “I don’t mind at all. Didn’t you say you found another spot?”

“Yes!” Bella answered, “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard that the food is incredible. And honestly, it may even end up being better than Antico Ristorante…”

“Why’s that?” Alessandra asked.

“Well, the head chef is a friend of a friend, and he’s HOT.”

Immediately, Alessandra’s mind flashed to the angry chef down the street.

“Oh no,” she groaned out loud, his handsome face popping into her head against her will. “What’s the name of the restaurant?”

“What’s wrong?” Bella asked, confused. “I think it’s called Nero.”

Not wanting to insult Bella’s acquaintance, Alessandra quickly tried to paint a neutral expression across her face. “No big deal, just wondering.”

“Oh no, spill!” Bella said emphatically.

“Fine, fine,” Alessandra replied, taking a big gulp of wine and crunching on a potato chip. “I think I’ve met the hot chef, and he wasn’t very nice.”

She recounted the entire story to Bella, finishing off her glass of wine as she did. Her hand reached into the bowl of chips, only to realize that it was empty.

Bella couldn’t stop giggling at the image of Alessandra surrounded by oysters and splattered tomatoes. Finally, calming down, she said, “Sorry, sorry, it’s kind of hilarious if you think about it. But it’s not cool that he was so rude to you.”

“Yeah,” Alessandra shrugged, “but what can you do? I won’t let it ruin my night. Not when I have my first ever tiramisu to look forward to.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Bella, reaching across the table to give her a quick hug. “I doubt we’ll even see him. But if we do, I’ve got your back!”

Alessandra laughed and thanked her. “I’ll be ready to go in one sec,” she said. “Let me just do a quick mirror check and grab my coat.”

Getting ready had been a breeze for Alessandra. For the first time in months, her clothes seemed to fit just the way they should. Under them she wore lacy black lingerie, and her breasts filled up her bra cups perfectly. The bags under her eyes were almost completely gone. When she looked in the mirror and surveyed herself in a fitted black jumpsuit and black heels, she felt beautiful.

To Alessandra’s relief, there was no sign of the angry chef when they arrived at the restaurant. She found herself dazzled by the elegant, dimly lit interior and oohed over the crisp white tablecloths set with flickering candles. The first half of their evening passed quickly in a blur of mouth watering appetizers—fried zucchini blossoms, vegetable caponata, tuna tartare with pistachio powder—and glass after glass of exceptional red wine.

Alessandra filled Bella in on her life in Boston over an entree of seafood risotto, and Bella was just beginning to share her dream of becoming a graphic designer when her cell phone rang, startling them both.

“So sorry!” Bella exclaimed. “I need to take this—it’s my little sister. She usually only texts, so I want to make sure everything’s okay.” With that, she grabbed her phone and walked quickly to the bathroom.

While she waited, Alessandra savored the flavorful risotto and sipped on her wine contentedly. She was feeling extremely full after the day’s many indulgences, but she almost enjoyed the sensation. For months back in Boston she’d felt so empty. Now that she was living in Sicily, she felt full—both literally and figuratively—and she was grateful. Plus, she appreciated how her breasts were filling out and her subtle curves were returning, and reasoned that she’d eat less indulgently once she returned to her normal weight.

A moment later, Alessandra watched Bella exit the bathroom with a worried expression on her face. Concerned, she waited for her friend to return to the table with an update. But curiously, she saw Bella walk through a door near the back of the room. Two minutes later, she rejoined Alessandra at the table.
“Is everything okay?” Alessandra asked, worried.

“Ugh, Alessandra, I am SO sorry, but I’m going to have to bail on you. My younger sister is at a party and called because her friends are drunk and planning to drive to another house party. I need to go pick her up.”

Alessandra felt her stomach drop in disappointment, but she admired Bella’s protectiveness. “I totally understand!” she assured Bella. “Go! I’ll just get a box for this food and take care of the check; you can Venmo me later.”

Bella gave her a mischievous smile. “Nope, dinner’s on me—it’s already taken care of! Consider it a ‘welcome to Taormina’ gift. And there’s one more course coming, so you’ll have to stick around for a few more minutes.”

Alessandra smiled tipsily back at her. “Let me guess: tiramisu?”

Bella nodded, “Yep!” With that, she gave Alessandra a quick hug and rushed out of the restaurant.

Normally, Alessandra wouldn’t feel completely comfortable sitting alone at a restaurant, but tonight she was buzzed enough to go with it. She finished up her risotto, licked her lips, and wiped her hands on the napkin in her lap. As she looked down, she noticed how curvy her stomach was looking under her jumpsuit.
When she looked back up, she gasped in surprise. Someone was standing over her table, looking down at her with raised eyebrows. When her vision focused and she realized who it was, her face flushed bright red. The angry chef was standing at her table. And Bella was right; he was hot.

She took a deep, steadying breath. “Hi,” she said in a steely voice.

“Hi,” he replied in his seductive accent. “I come bearing tiramisu. Is it okay if I sit down?” He placed a dessert glass filled to the brim with whipped cream on the table and waited for her response.

She nodded dumbly on autopilot, wondering if he’d come to collect a payment for the spilled oysters.

“So, what’s up?” she asked curtly, glancing across the table at him and trying hard not to stare.

He pushed his dark, wavy hair out of her eyes and looked at her earnestly. “I’m sorry for being rude to you.”

Instantly, Alessandra suspected she knew where Bella had disappeared to after her phone call in the bathroom. “Are you saying that because you mean it, or because Bella asked you to?” she asked.

“You’re right, Bella talked to me. But I was already feeling bad about it. I was angry about something else, and I took it out on you.”

He looked so sincere with his shining blue eyes and heartfelt expression that Alessandra couldn’t help but melt a little. “Thanks for apologizing. It’s no big deal,” she replied, looking down at the decadent tiramisu in front of her and then back at him.

“Try it,” he encouraged her firmly.

She scooped up a large bite with her spoon and moaned softly as she tasted the coffee and cream exploding on her tongue. She licked the spoon clean, then said, “My compliments to the chef.”

Alessandra expected him to smile, but instead he was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Was it lust? Or something else?

“Sorry, do I have cream on my face?” she asked self consciously.

He ignored her question and gazed into her eyes intently. “Watching you taste that…it was so sensual. Like you were sucking every last drop of flavor off the spoon.”

Okay, so it was lust. She felt her skin tingling and her underwear growing wet as he continued to gaze at her. She took another bite of the dessert, then licked her lips.

The chef placed his large palm over hers and said, “Dolcezza, regretfully I must return to the kitchen now. Continue to enjoy yourself.”

She watched, hypnotized, as his broad back retreated to the kitchen. His last words had sounded oddly like a command, but she wasn’t at all opposed to obeying. She picked up the spoon once again.

As the rich, velvety cream hit her tongue, she couldn’t help but imagine the chef’s tongue on her own. Then she shook her head unsteadily and thought, Get a grip, Alessandra. You don’t even know his name.

Nonetheless, visions of him removing his chef’s coat and exposing his muscled abs played through her mind, and by the time she’d savored the last bite of tiramisu and snapped out of her reverie, she realized that she was the only patron left in the restaurant.

Alessandra clicked on her phone screen and looked at the time in shock, dismayed by how long she’d been sitting there. Embarrassed, she left a hefty tip on the table, gathered up her purse and put on her coat, thanking Bella silently for covering the check. Despite the chef’s subtle advances, she didn’t want him thinking that she was being creepy by sticking around for so long.

Just as she pushed her chair in and began to walk towards the front door, she heard his voice behind her. “Dolcezza, wait.” Again, a command rather than a request.

She twirled around and saw him walking towards her. Embarrassment flooded her face again. “Oh no, I thought Bella paid already. I swear I wasn’t trying to dine and dash.” In a panic, she fumbled for her purse.

He looked at her in confusion. “Dine-and-dash? I’m afraid I don’t understand the meaning.” Then he saw her counting out bills, and gestured to her to stop.

“Relax, Dolcezza, it’s been paid for. I only came to ask how you liked the meal,” he said in amusement.

“Oh, thank God,” she mumbled under her breath. Taking a deep breath, she placed her wallet back into her purse. “The meal was fantastic. Amazing. Honestly one of the best I’ve ever had.”

He smiled but nodded, as though used to the praise. “I’m very glad you liked it.” Then he offered her a hand and said, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I’m Alessandra,” she replied, shaking his hand. As their skin touched, she felt a tingling sensation shoot through her. Somehow, even his firm, authoritative handshake was attractive. Moving to retract her hand, she found that he was still grasping onto it.

“There’s something about you, Alessandra,” he murmured softly. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

Unsure of what to say but incredibly turned on, she locked eyes with him and nodded, as though confirming she felt the same way.

“Once Tommaso goes home,” he gestured toward his sous chef who was putting on his coat in preparation to leave, “I’d love for you to join me in the kitchen. But there’s one thing you should know…” he hesitated.

“What’s that?” breathed Alessandra.

“I tend to be a bit…demanding…when I make love.”

Alessandra wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but at that moment she didn’t care. She was hypnotized by him.

It didn’t matter that she normally wasn’t a one-night-stand type of girl, it didn’t matter that he was the most intimidatingly handsome man she’d ever met, and it didn’t even matter that she’d eaten about three days worth of calories and was incredibly full. She was determined to see this through.

“That’s fine with me,” she answered seductively. “I can handle it.”

He bent down, grabbed her face in his hands, and gave her a deep, lingering kiss. “Good,” he said. “But just know that you can stop me at any moment if you don’t feel comfortable.” As Niccolo spoke, Tomasso walked over to them, wished his boss a good night, then slipped quietly out the front door.

Alessandra gave Niccolo a small smile and nodded in consent. He grabbed her hand and led her into the kitchen.