Page 144 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8

‘Change of schedule,’ he told Antonia. ‘I need to be in Lucca tonight.’

CHAPTER ONE

SUSIEBILTON’SSMILEwas present and correct.

Her blonde hair was neatly pinned back. Her black dress was immaculate. And her black apron, with the elegantPearla’s logo spun in gold over one pocket, was neatly tied. She wore the requisite black tights and, because she would be on her feet for the next six hours, black rather sensible shoes.

The team were being briefed by Pedro, the head waiter. But her eyes drifted to the busy kitchen—to Cucou, the head chef, who was laughing as he twirled fresh pasta like a skipping rope.

‘Susie?’

‘Sorry,’ she said, and tore her gaze from the kitchen and back to Pedro.

Having been in Lucca for four weeks, working over Christmas and New Year and taking language courses during the week, Susie understood most of what Pedro said.

‘We have a birthday. The cake is a surprise, so don’t offer birthday wishes until then. And an engagement.’

He smiled, and so did the staff. The restaurant was on the walls of Lucca, and very elegant, and was often a chosen venue to celebrate precious times.

Pedro took them through the choices on the menu tonight. ‘Cucou has prepared a ricotta and spinach ravioli with a walnut sauce...’

Susie found her gaze again drifting to the kitchen, to the slight frenzy taking place as they prepared for a busy night. It was a noisy, busy kitchen, and there were often shouts and sometimes bursts of laughter. She would give anything to be a part of that team...

Maybe one day...

Though not at Pearla’s.

When she’d applied to work here, Susie had told the manager that her goal was to work in the kitchen, that she would do anything...

Anything.

Honestly, she’d be happy washing the dishes or peeling onions. Anything to be given a chance in the kitchen of this beautiful five-star restaurant. She didn’t understand how they would let her loose on the clients, but not in the kitchen.

Actually, she did understand...

It was the reason she was here.

The really good Italian restaurants, even in England, required you to be fluent in the language to work in the kitchen.

She’d tried learning Italian at home, but her ex had rolled his eyes at her attempts. He hadn’t understood how cooking wasn’t just work, it was her passion.

She couldn’t blame him for that. Not her parents, nor her sisters, and none of her friends understood the frustration she’d felt working as a cook in an Italian restaurant that was part of a large chain. Yes, she’d got to cook—but to a set menu. And it had involved a lot of heating up pre-prepared food, or adding the chain’s salad dressing to a standard version of salad. She’d wanted to create her own. But first of all she knew she had to learn...

That was why she was in Lucca, taking lessons each weekday morning at the language school, and to pay her way she was waitressing whenever she got a shift.

‘There’s also a reduced bar menu,’ Pedro was saying, and Susie felt tension in her jaw as the waiting staff were told the kitchen was short-staffed tonight.

Again.

It was common even at the most exclusive venues.

As the staff dispersed the first customers were starting to enter, but Susie held back.

‘Susie...?’ Pedro frowned.

‘I could help,’ she responded in Italian, but she saw the flicker of impatience on Pedro’s face. He really didn’t have time to listen to her stumble through her words, but surely her Italian had improved since she’d arrived?

‘You do help,’ he responded in English. ‘I know it is irregular, asking you to deliver meals...’ He gave a small shudder—food delivery was not usually an option, yet for certain guests exceptions were made! ‘Gio—I mean, Signor Casadio—hasn’t called yet, but if he does...’