The Mafia Washes Dishes Now

For twenty million dollars, I signed a one-year contract to be Enzo's wife on paper and run his family's kitchen.

The morning after the wedding, Enzo moved his first love, Sloane, into the private estate, claiming she'd be his nutritionist.

I was about to pack my bags and make room for his true love when Sloane came bursting through the dining room doors, a bowl of soup in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

"Enzo, this slum girl you married is disgusting!"

"She's going to pretend she can't handle silver cutlery, cut her hand, and spill soup on your expensive suit pants just to get your attention..."

I hated anyone questioning my cooking or my professional integrity, so I jammed the solid gold table knife into the mahogany dining table.

"Playing for who?"

"I'm a Cordon Bleu chef with three Michelin stars. My contract pays me five million a year to run this family's dinners. Why would I spill soup on his pants?"

1

The solid gold knife sank three inches into the mahogany.

The handle was still trembling.

Sloane flinched, and the soup bowl slipped from her hand and shattered on the marble floor.

Creamy white soup splashed across her skirt.

She stumbled back three steps and dove straight into Enzo's arms.

"Enzo! Help me!"

"This crazy woman is threatening me with a knife!"

"Is she going to chop me up and make soup out of me?"

Sloane buried her face in Enzo's lapel, shoulders shaking with sobs.

My hand rested on the gold knife handle, my weight shifting forward.

If Enzo took her side even once, I'd yank out the knife, collect my contract penalty, and walk out.

Enzo grabbed Sloane by the shoulders and pulled her away from his chest.

"That's enough, Sloane! Stop making a scene!"

Sloane's sobbing cut off mid-breath, her mouth hanging open.

Enzo smoothed out his crumpled tie and pointed at the dishes on the table.

"Her dinner standards are approved by the whole family. The old Godfather only got his strength back to leave his bed after eating her food."

"Didn't you call yourself a nutritionist?"

"From today, you'll stay in the kitchen as her apprentice and help out!"

I raised an eyebrow and let go of the knife handle.

Sloane screamed, stomping her heels and pointing at the kitchen's glass doors.

Inside, a dozen burly cooks were working the stoves and chopping vegetables.

"I won't be an apprentice! Enzo, fire every one of those brutes!"

"They're wasting money just sitting around the estate!"

"I can cook for every hundred people on this estate by myself!"

I pressed a hand to my forehead, my chest tightening.

I pointed at the digital clock on the wall and gave her a crash course.

"Mafia dinners age their meat down to the second, and the sauce temperature can't drift more than one degree."

"A hundred plates have to come out together within fifteen minutes, and every plate has to pass a poison screen."

Sloane planted her hands on her hips and cut me off.

"Stop fooling people with your fancy jargon!"

"You're keeping that kitchen crew just to sideline me!"

"You want one-man rule in that kitchen so you can hog Enzo's attention!"

She lunged at him, clutching his sleeve and shaking it.

"Enzo, the kitchen smoke scares me, you know."

"Could you have my cooking station moved into your study?"

"I want to simmer soup for you while you go over the family papers!"

Enzo tugged at his sleeve, couldn't get free, and patted her hand for ten minutes straight.

In the end, Enzo set his jaw, called two bodyguards, and marched her back to the kitchen.

I spent two hours teaching her the basics of carrying a plate.

That evening, a representative from our allied family came to visit.

I only dared let Sloane run food from the dining room door.

My sous-chef came over carrying a century-old bottle that had just been decanted and handed it to Sloane.

"Careful, this is for the ally's boss."

Sloane rolled her eyes, and the moment she took the bottle, she flicked her wrist outward on purpose.

Crash!

The three-hundred-thousand-dollar wine shattered, and dark red liquid splashed all over the ally's representative.

Sloane clapped a hand over her mouth and pointed at my sous-chef.

"Oh my God, your hands are so slippery!"

"I hadn't even grabbed it firmly and you let go. You did that on purpose!"

The ally's representative slammed the table and leapt up. To calm his fury, Enzo gave an order on the spot.

"Get him out of here! This clumsy sous-chef scrubs toilets for a month!"