Mafia's Little Dove

saffron-infused broth-Sienna was in the heart of battle. Sweat gathered at the base of her neck, but s

n't fully here. It wa

ant, insuf

cc

and Vincenzo shoved that check into her hand like she was so

Mont

an who radiated power with every step,

stead, here she was, still fuming, still thinking about the way his sharp jaw tensed when she dared to touch him. The way his light brown

s, Sienn

ly and turned bac

ntically, their movements precise, their focus razor-sharp. The judges-some of the

porter, always effortlessly elegant, always in control. She was watching, sipping fro

efused t

r used to make. It was comforting, nostalgic, but elevated with her own modern twist-seared

oing perfectly.

jor

her finishing garnish. The next,

sh herb

d she misplaced them? No. They had bee

on settled in he

s-Elena, a cutthroat chef with something to prove. And in Elena's s

ut there was no time to a

, adjusting on the fly. Instead of the herbs, she grabbed a hint of smok

ed down. Three.

ike that,

Judg

r chest heaving as the

asted, murmuring a

thed as the woman's lips wrapped around the spoon. For a second, Lucinda said n

ice smooth as silk.

nt, their murmurs of approval maki

t win fir

on someth

before approaching her. She was graceful, controlled, ev

ted," Lucinda

nk you. That means a

udying her. "I mean it. Your kind

those words before Lucinda leane

e an opportu

ked. "An op

"I know someone looking for a personal chef. He's very particu

itched. Was this

trembling fingers, her heart h

mething

ess..." sh

arched

g to go there for an i

ng behind it. "Is that so? Well, consider yourself luc

ckened. She wanted

lready pulling her deeper into