Recipe For Disaster

It only took him a few minutes to open up the wall safe in his bedroom, take out the first padded envelope enclosed in a black cover and slip it into a smart document wallet so he was ready and waiting when Jerry knocked on the door.

‘Right, partner.’ Jerry smiled, casually leaning like a fashion model against the door frame. ‘So tell me again what is so very important that you feel the need to make your way in rush-hour traffic through the centre of London so you can deliver a package? We have an excellent postal system, you know. Perhaps you should try it?’

Fabio took a breath and exhaled very slowly.

Why was he acting as a delivery boy for his father’s law firm? Because he owed his family for giving him a second chance after his life had crashed and burned. Owed them big time.

‘Relax. This is definitely the last assignment for my grandfather’s last private client. This package had to be hand delivered by a Rossi family lawyer between six and eight p.m. today and he knew that I was going to be in London so I agreed to help him out. They needed someone they could trust to put it in the right hands and it saves the family firm the price of the air fare.’

‘Ah. I am beginning to understand. Your father gave you a job when you needed one and now it’s payback time. Am I right?’

Fabio looked at his business partner with pity laced with exasperation. ‘Have you not been paying attention to anything I’ve told you about my family in the last few months? I knew it was dangerous putting you in charge of recruiting office receptionists. Way too many distractions.’

Jerry smiled, displaying a set of stunning even white teeth, which highlighted his tan and pale blue fine cotton shirt. His azure-blue eyes focused on Fabio. ‘Ah. The delights of meeting lovely ladies who are so anxious to demonstrate their database skills. But do try and relax, Fabio, old chap. You’re starting to make me feel quite anxious.’

Fabio had to smile. He had known Jerry three years and in all that time he had never seen his business partner, and one of the smartest men in commercial law, raise a sweat.

‘Well, I would hate for that to happen. Here’s an idea. I have to finish this one last job, but as we have just spent most of the day setting up our new list of prospective clients, I think that might be worth a celebration. Don’t you?’

Jerry raised an eyebrow, then pushed back to full height and tugged down on the cuffs of his made-to-measure shirt. ‘Now you are talking my language. Forget the taxi. The Rossi and Frobisher courier service is on the case. Got the address handy?’

Chapter Two

‘Oh, you should have seen your face,’ Alex managed to get out as she wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘It was priceless.’

‘You,’ Bunty replied, her hand still pressed against her throat as she fought to bring down her heart rate, ‘are a menace. I could have had a heart attack. And think of the bad influence you are having on your baby sister. Shocking example.’

‘Were you really scared?’ Fran asked and flung her arms around Bunty’s neck and shoulders. ‘We thought it would be nice to give you a treat for once seeing as you cook for us nearly every day. I did the balloons and Alex made the hot chocolate just the way you like it.’

Bunty patted Fran’s arm and reassured her. ‘Not scared. Just taken by surprise.’

It was impossible to be annoyed with a girl who thought it was normal to wear a lime-green T-shirt with a scarlet red dragon logo and matching Chinese silk pants while vacuuming up dried pasta shells.

‘My own recipe, of course.’ Alex wafted a steaming beaker of chocolatey loveliness in front of Bunty’s nose and gestured for her to sit at the kitchen table. ‘And before you say it, yes, I know it’s my one and only recipe but not all of us are blessed with your culinary genius.’

‘Then it is a good thing that I adore your hot chocolate.’ Bunty smiled and lifted the beaker with both hands towards her nose. ‘Oh, that cinnamon smells so good.’

‘Don’t forget the vanilla extract and cream! Secret ingredients. Do you like the balloons?’

Bunty grinned up at the bunch of fluorescent-pink gas-filled balloons that Fran had tied to the back of her chair. They bobbed up and down in the air telling the world that she had not turned thirty at all. She was twenty-one with nine years’ added experience.

A feeling of overwhelming emotion bubbled up from the centre of her heart reserved for happy days, which had not seen much use of late.

‘They are the best balloons that I have ever seen in my entire life. Thanks, girls. You are the best. I…I don’t know what I would do without you.’ Suddenly her throat felt quite sore and words were a tad difficult.

‘Oh, Lord, she’s going.’ Alex waved frantically at her sister. ‘Fran. Quick. We need more hazelnut biscotti. Go, go, go.’

The second Fran jogged out into the deli, Alex scooted around the table and leant her head against Bunty’s shoulder.

‘Come on. Tell your aunty Alex. Why are you in the grumps? What’s going on?’

Bunty took a sip of the hot chocolate and waited until the delicious warmth had eased away the tension in her stiff shoulders before replying. ‘Is it that obvious? Well, if you must know I had always imagined that I would have achieved a lot more in my career by the time I reached thirty and the more I think about it, the more I feel like a big fat failure.’

‘Well, that’s crazy. So what would it take to make you feel better? Besides my hot chocolate, of course.’

‘Besides that, funding to open another deli some time in the next six months would be nice. I have the orders and I know that I could make a go of it. But I’m not sure I want to go cap in hand to yet another bank. Not yet anyway.’

‘Why not? You will get the funding you need. I’m sure of it. I mean, look at you.’

Alex waved her arm around. ‘Gorgeous girl. Busy deli and ideas to open more like it. Plenty of pubs and bistros clamouring to serve your grub. There are loads of reasons why a bank would fall over itself to loan you the cash to fund an expansion. And I know you have a brilliant business plan because I helped you write it.’

‘Yes, you did. And it is brilliant. Except for one thing. Security. The last two banks I went to both wanted me to take a mortgage out on the deli as security for the loan. I can’t do it, Alex. Won’t do it. All I have to do is remember how much trouble my mum got into over the years and it scares me witless. I’ve only just stopped paying off all of the loans she took out to try and keep her dreams alive. I can’t take the risk of losing the deli. We sacrificed so much to keep it going. It’s the only thing that nobody can take away from me.’

Alex grabbed her hand, gave it a squeeze, then topped up their hot chocolate and nodded. ‘Keep the deli. Righty. Now we know what we need to do. Got it. What about the Brannigans?’

‘They would help if they could but the family are way too busy organising the latest Brannigan wedding for me to bother them with my problems. My uncle Pat sent me a lovely birthday card.’

Bunty narrowed her eyes. ‘And before you go there, I would eat my own feet before I asked the Carusos for a loan.’

Alex coughed and choked on a biscuit crumb and washed it down before answering. ‘Hey. It’s me. I would never say the C word in your presence. I suppose Luca has been begging you to write more cook books for him when your deal ends next week?’

Bunty lifted both of her hands high into the air in a dramatic flourish. ‘Begging and pleading. Emails coming in every week offering me an extension.’

Alex giggled and shuffled in her seat like an overexcited five-year-old high on sugar and artificial colours. ‘Did you make him grovel? Did you? Did you?’

‘Of course. Then I declined his offer in a polite and totally professional manner. It was a glorious moment. There are five more days left on my contract with Luca. Count them. Five. Then I shall finally be free. No more writing cook books for Luca. No more working for a pittance. Free to do what I want with my genius.’

Alex lifted her beaker in a toast. ‘Now that is something worth celebrating. Busy or not, it’s your thirtieth birthday. You are coming out to party this evening and enjoy yourself even if I have to drag you out. You know you want to. I can see you weakening.’

‘You are so bossy.’ Bunty paused, then lifted her chin and blinked a few times, then nodded. ‘And I hate it when you are so blindingly right. I should celebrate. These past few months have been tough but I survived the first Christmas without Mum. This is it, Alex. Tomorrow morning the new Bernadette will be in charge. No more messing about on the side lines. No more saying no to opportunities when they come along. This time next year I will be running, not one, but two Brannigans delis and my life will be back in control. No matter what. Deal?’

‘Deal. That’s why you love me.’ Alex looked up at the sound of rustling from the deli. ‘Now where is my lovely sister with the biscotti and…? Oh, my!’ Then her eyes widened with just enough of a sharp intake of breath to make Bunty swing around in her chair to see what all of the fuss was about.

‘Bunty.’ Fran giggled and pressed her fingers to her mouth. ‘You have a…visitor.’

Fran was right. She did have a visitor.

Because strolling into her kitchen was the same man she had just been looking at in a bookshop window.

Luca Caruso.

In the flesh.

Right down to the silk and cashmere midnight-blue suit and gleaming white shirt and a natural tan that told her more than she wanted to know about where he had spent the winter.

Luca was holding a bouquet of yellow rose buds in one hand and in the other one of the pastry cream cannoli from her chiller cabinet. He was calmly nibbling at it as though he walked into his cousin’s deli every day of the week.

The whole scene was so surreal Bunty blinked several times to make sure that she was not imagining it. He had stolen one of her cannoli and was eating it. In front of her! In her kitchen!