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We’ve secured a building a few miles away from La Torrisi, and Viviana has agreed to manage my restaurant as well.
Every day I play around with Asian dishes, and I’m slowly putting together a menu so I’m ready for when the doors open.
Today I’m choosing my signature dish, and I’m torn between two.
Setting both meals down in front of Renzo, my tone is professional as I point at the plate on the left. “This isBanh xeo, a savory Vietnamese pancake filled with pork, shrimp, onions, and bean sprouts.” I gesture at the other plate. “And this isyukhaejang, a Korean spicy brisket soup.” My eyes meet Renzo’s. “Tell me which one you like most.”
He nods as he turns his attention to the dishes, and taking a bite of the first one, he focuses on the taste.
I push his glass of Italian Prosecco closer so he can use it as a palette cleanser.
When he takes a bite of the Korean soup, my heart beats faster and nerves spin in my stomach.
Sitting back, his eyes meet mine, and I swear the man is trying to torture me when he doesn’t immediately give me his feedback.
“The Korean spicy brisket is your signature dish,” he says. “You got nervous when I took a bite, which means it’s important to you.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “It doesn’t matter which one I like more.”
He’s right.
Tears fill my eyes, and before I can try to stop them, they spill down my cheeks.
I’ve just chosen my signature dish.
He stands up from the chair and wraps me in a tight hug.
This moment has been in the making since I started my career as a chef. I’m so overwhelmed because, after the accident, I never thought I’d get the chance to have my own signature dish.
“For the record,” Renzo murmurs. “The beef brisket soup is my favorite.”
I let out a chuckle, and pulling back, I look at him.
He wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs before pressing a kiss to my mouth. “Congratulations,amo.”
“Thank you.” I smile as I glance at the two dishes.
Thebanh xeois an excellent addition to the menu, but theyukhaejangis special because it was one of Dad’s favorites.
“I’ve decided on a name for the restaurant,” I say.
“What?”
“Yukhaejang.”
A smile spreads over Renzo’s face. “I should’ve guessed. I’ll get the sign made. Just write it down for me, or I’ll butcher it because I can’t pronounce that word for the life of me.”
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I stare up at him. “Thank you for being so amazing.”
He kisses my lips, then says, “You make me want to be amazing.”
His phone starts to ring, and I let go of him so he can take the call.
“Hey,” he answers.
He listens for a moment, then his eyes flick to me, and I watch as his features change from loving to cold and ruthless.
My stomach clenches, and my heartbeat speeds up because it’s a look I won’t ever get used to seeing. Honestly, his brutal side still scares the living hell out of me.
Renzo lifts his hand and wraps his fingers around the side of my neck as he mutters to whoever’s on the other end of the call, “I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes.”
