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Chapter Ten - Tears
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The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter Eleven - The Charming Bad Jokes
Declan had argued that going to Paris under the Tour Eiffel was the best place to reconcile. However, Milo and Shay had vehemently - repeatedly - said that no, it was not a good idea. The only reason Declan had ceded was because Milo eventually admitted that Amara hated trains, especially trips that took over an hour. They had all agreed on Parc de la Tête d'Or and its cafe on the back left corner. An open-air cafe.Amara was already stewing over a hardly-touched drink of some kind, deliberately keeping her eyes down and unaware of much else around her. Despite the somehow-perfect temperature, the slight evening breeze, the beautiful park. She glanced at her phone now and then, but that was all.With utmost caution, Declan approached her. When he was a foot away, he could feel the anger coming off her in scorching waves like the heat off a fresh mug of coffee. He gulped, loud enough for Amara to hear him.She paused, then looked up at him from her seat. Her expression was nearly unrea
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter Twelve - Repairs
Declan was really making progress repairing things; he'd even invited her to come to work with him. Even though he still hadn't given her a name to the place, or his employer, or coworkers. But she did want to work on trusting him more. And he worked at night, while she worked during the day; it was almost easier to set up that than a normal date. And now here they were, walking hand-in-hand down a street in the lamplight. Amara was both excited and nervous. Her tiredness from the day didn't really matter for the next few hours. She wasn't going to miss out on this."So, I get really snappy, critical, judgemental, and straight out cruel in my- the kitchen. It's stressful, hectic, rushing rushing rushing, and exhausting." Declan grinned and squeezed her hand. "It's also beautiful, spicy, serene, and the best place on earth. Sure you want to come? I am not at my best. The intensity is very heated."Amara nodded. "I- understand. Sometimes it can get like that in rehearLeylas, practice, a
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter thirteen - The Bag!
The knock on the door surprised her.Declan pulled away and went to the door, instantly grinning as he opened it. She could hear it in his voice. "Pelouche! Father! No Max?""No," said an older man's voice, "I'm helping this afternoon. Max is probably taking a well-earned nap."She wasn't sure if the voice she was hearing was Hugo or Msr. Pelouche, and for some reason just that alone brought her panic rising again. Chiding herself, she took another breath and calmed, fixed her hair a little, and went around into the entryway hall, putting a calming, welcoming smile on. It was like a performance, but no dancing to get her nerves out, and no space between her and the audience.Declan was laughing and hugging two older men, one looking in his 60s though the cane added on to that, and the other looking indeterminably older. Not much, but a bit. Hugo must be the one with the cane. Slight irritation with Declan surfaced and helped her focus again, and she pushed it away for the time as she
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter fourteen - Progressing in Steps
"What do you mean you don't know if it's serious?" Asher asked over the video screen, the image freezing for a moment when his face was close to the screen."I mean exactly that!" Amara said just as emphatically."You've been going out for months," he began listing. "You've had arguments and at least one big fight that you both came back from—"One actual fight—"You're both working and still managing to find time for each other on a weekly basis," he continued. "You've been to his work—""Once.""I'm sure he'd take you again if you asked," Asher said, undeterred. "And, you both are normalizing.""What? No we're not.""It's becoming normal to see each other more than not, isn't it?""Maybe. Doesn't mean it happens more," she said petulantly."Doesn't mean you don't want it to," he argued back."Relationships work like that!""Yeah, but you're also not super bummed and bothering him all the time when you don't get to see him!""Because I know he has a life!" she argued back. "He works
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter Fifteen - Intimate Stretches and Unspoken Words
Occasionally, Amara had days off when she didn't need to be at the studio because none of the numbers being practiced included her. At times, she still liked to watch, but lately, she welcomed the time off. However, she intended to stay in shape, and Declan had expressed interest in seeing her dance. So, she convinced him to join her in stretching and a little bit of dancing at a local studio she knew.When she first arrived in France, her aunt provided information about the studio. Amara initially disregarded it and didn't think about it for at least a year.But she missed the barre and studio floors. Although they were all different, they were better than dancing on club grounds or whatever happened to be available.So she visited the studio occasionally when there was an empty room or no classes were in session. She met one of the teachers, proved her skills, and obtained permission to use the space, even though she had dropped the class.Now she waited outside the door, dressed in
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter Sixteen - The king cook has spoken
They arrived at Declan's apartment and he closed the door behind them. "So, what do you want to eat?" he asked as he slipped his shoes off. Habit he'd acquired somewhere and it stuck with him. At least he'd had the sense to have his own apartment for that. Giovanni may pay him they money for it, but his name was on the lease. And it would stay that way, whether Giovanni was a mafia boss or not.Amara sighed as she slipped her own shoes off. "Hmm... something savory. Surprise me."Declan nodded, going through a list of possibilities in his head. "How do you feel about raw fish?"She raised her eyebrows, but didn't pull too much of a face. "Experimental. But up for it."Declan grinned. "Excellent. Now go take a shower or something; I'll cook." There were extra towels in the guest bedroom.Amara scoffed at him. "I'd have to get back into my dirty leotard if I showered!"Declan shook his head. "Guest room wardrobe."Amara raised her eyebrow."There's an outfit for you there."She switched
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter Seventeen - The Music Ends
Declan looked around carefully at his kitchen, pleased with how it had turned out. It was pristine and the food on the counter tops even more so. The best part, was the fact that each dish without exception had chocolate sauce. Declan had cooked for her. In his apartment, and had invited her over in... he glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. Well. She would be here in ten looked down at himself and grinned. Chocolate was all over his cooking shirt. No matter. Declan twirled out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, out of the dirty clothes, and into Amara's favorite shirt of his, favorite pants, fixed his hair then walked out after putting a touch of cologne on his neck. There. Understated paced around his apartment, watching his phone like, well, like a Declan, waiting for Amara to ring in below.Finally, she rang. A few minutes ahead, but it wasn't like he wasn't ready."Enter!" he called out, letting her inside the building with a buzz. Declan ran out to meet her, nearly slipping on t
The Dancer and the Mafia's Chef Chapter Eighteen - ransom in a metal cell
Declan woke up, eyes flashing open. His hands were free, legs free. He tried moving them but he was far, far too sore. He closed his eyes and groaned, leaning against a wall behind him. A bright light bounced off everywhere, making everything hurt to look at anyway. No point in opening them. [swear] what was wrong with him? Oh yes. He'd been electrified. Twice. Papa was going to be very proud. Declan winced. And Mal was either going to die or die trying to get him out. "Sorry Dad," Declan whispered in Arabic."Your Papa isn't here," Lucas replied from a chair in the farthest corner away.He opened his eyes again but made no other move. "We don't care about you so go away please. Oh, I do care about Amara. Where is she? Also, if I'm not home by curfew, my employer will murder someone. Or maybe a chicken. Mmm. If he threatens his bodyguard, I hope he lops that man's head off. That man is insufferable."Lucas laughed. "Amara is in an extra bedroom. She is a guest whereas you, my boy, ar
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